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215 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 1895
It was not well to drive men into final corners; at those moments they could all develop teeth and claws.I read (well, was assigned to read) the complete Stephen Crane library for a project in high school. But that was over 30 years ago. My main memory of Crane’s works is that they can be divided generally into two categories: man struggling in the face of an indifferent universe, and man struggling in the face of a hostile universe.
Tolstoi made the writing of Stephen Crane on the Civil War seem like the brilliant imagining of a sick boy who had never seen war but had only read the battles and chronicles and seen the Brandy photographs that I had read and seen at my grandparents� house.
—Ernest Hemingway
Once the line encountered the body of a dead soldier. He lay upon his back staring at the sky. He was dressed in an awkward suit of yellowish brown. The youth could see that the soles of his shoes were worn to the thinness of writing paper, and from a great rent in one of the dead foot projected piteously. And it was as if fate had betrayed the soldier. In death it exposed to his enemies that poverty which in life he had perhaps concealed from his friends.
Regarding death thus out the corner of his eye, he conceived it to be nothing but rest, and he was filled with a momentary astonishment that he should have made an extraordinary commotion over the mere matter of getting killed. He would die; he would go to some place where he would be understood.