Hemingway is interesting in the sense that often he puts bits of meaning and true literary beauty in the middle of a dense description of something that seems relatively inconsequential, and that's the tricky part. At his best he's insightful and beautiful in a nostalgic way, and at other times I'm falling asleep lost in description. I think that this book left more of an impression on me for the descriptions of Africa, but I want to read authentic African authors in order to develop a more nuanced perspective on African literature. This was a good jaunt into the space, but high on my to-read is now Achebe and some other authors who don't hinge their appreciation for Africa around hunting (and by extension perhaps just a desire to take without giving).