Bill versus Jake: Ironical Reality versus Passive Escape in Ernest Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises

Jake Barnes is essentially a good guy, and the supposed hero of Ernest Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises. In spite of his war wounds, he continually rescues the Lady Brett Ashley from her romantic debacles and agreeably fulfills the whims of his many friends. Superficially, he appears to accept his accident and strives to maintain all semblances of the high life. Yet in his attempts to blend so seamlessly with his peers he loses touch with his own self. Jake puts forth such effort into a façade that he can no longer distinguish his actual emotions from that of his apathetically amicable front. Bill Gorton becomes the antithesis of Jake with his knack for truthful assessments. Whereas Jake tends to avoid conflicts and tension, Bill is blunt, oftentimes to the point of rudeness. Bill faces the reality of disaster, and unlike Jake, he does not believe that escaping is a viable solution.

Jake feels as if he must struggle that much harder to prove himself in spite of his accident. He seeks constantly to assert himself, and he wakes early to dig worms "carefully" (117), as opposed to Bill who is a "lazy bum" (118). Yet, Jake's actions are not motivated by a strong desire for early bait, but rather, Bill aligns this deed with "burying [Jake's] money," a clear reference to Jake's dependence on financial masculinity (118). Bill mocks Jake's inability to come to terms with reality and tells him that "they're mad about [Irony and Pity] in New York," ironically calling this a fad while maintaining that Jake himself "do[esn't] understand irony" and that he "ha[s] no pity" (119). Instead of learning to cope with his issues, Bill accuses Jake of escaping into another world as he calls him "an expatriate" who has been "ruined" by "fake European standards" (120). While irony and pity are the craze in New York, Jake's European values are just another façade. Bill admits that Jake is a "hell of a good guy," but his use of the word good actually seems to cast Jake into a somewhat negative light (121). Good is akin to Jake, and encompasses that generic amiability with which he is identified. Jake refuses to give others insightful answers and responds to Bill's "aren't you interested" with a bland comment about food (118). Even as Bill continues to provoke Jake, humming to the tune of "'The Bells are Ringing for Me and my Gal,'" Jake placidly reads his paper (119). As he wallows in self sorrow he continues to live in denial, claiming earlier that he "never thinks about [the accident]" (34), all the while "want[ing] to start [Bill] again" (120) on his impotence. Jake pretends to ignore his problem, in spite of his ceaseless private misery. As Bill identifies Jake's flaws, he points to the necessity for acceptance.

Jake is not necessarily a particularly dull person, but rather, in his incessant attempts to be normal, he ceases to know his own self. Instead of embracing his disabilities, or at least attempting to incorporate this into a new lifestyle, he struggles to pretend that it has never happened. Bill emphasizes that Jake is missing the "irony and pity" necessary to appreciate both the bitter humor and misery of his situation (118). Jake is so introverted that the text begins to reflect his generic façade, and is spiced only with the witty remarks of such people as Bill. Bill's cynicism becomes a tool through which the text can begin to reveal Jake's true emotions.