It is, of course, a great, gritty, utterly unheroic depiction of war, with deaths, horrible injuries, and what some have called emergency sex. The Frederick Henry's struggle then shifts to his relationship with Catherine Barkley. You know that it is doomed from the start, because it's that kind of book, but I was still startled by the bleak suddenness of the ending. It's a sparse, clear picture of people thrown together by conflict, and how lives end in that situation, as ever told in Hemingway's crystal prose.
I am becoming a Hemingway addict, something I never quite expected.