The Snows of Kilimanjaro

The Snows of Kilimanjaro Summary | Detailed Summary

Author's Preface: Hemingway explains that Kilimanjaro is snow-covered, the highest mountain in Africa. He tells the story of the unexplained frozen carcass of a leopard that wandered near the western summit.

This Hemingway short story opens with dialogue between a man and another person; we learn in a few paragraphs that the other person is a woman, and that the man believes he will die soon. They sit under a mimosa tree as they watch vultures fly in circles overhead. He wonders aloud whether they have come because they see he is helpless or if they can smell his leg, which is rotting with gangrene.

He observes that he has been watching the large, ugly birds since the day they were stranded, and today is the first day the birds have landed on the ground. He thinks it is ironic that he had been observing them in case he wanted to write about them later. Here we learn the man is a writer.

His companion, the woman, is quite nervous. She feels helpless stranded with him injured out there in the wilderness, and his desire to talk makes her uncomfortable. He insists he is dying, and she refuses to believe him. They bicker, and he grows quiet, noticing the scenery and the native animals, including zebras.

Again, she asks him if he would like her to read to him. Again, he refuses. They begin to argue again, and we learn the man's name is Harry. She is preoccupied with being rescued, and he is preoccupied with getting a whiskey-soda. Molo, the servant, obliges him.

Harry begins a long series of reflections about life and death. Since his leg became gangrenous, he has felt no physical pain, and the fear he once had about death is gone. He reflects about the things that he had always wanted to write about but never written, not knowing enough about them.

The woman begins to complain about coming to Africa in the first place. She says he would have never gotten gangrene in Paris, or Hungary, or anywhere else. She says she hates Africa, and asks what they did to have that happen to them. He explains it by saying he did not take proper care of the wound, or the fact that they did not have a good mechanic, or the fact that she left her "Saratoga, Palm Beach people" to be with him.

Harry retreats into his own memories in the next passages, which are italicized. In his mind, he visits faraway places, long-ago times. The details of these encounters do not really matter as much as the general impressions: he remembers many winters spent in the Alps; he remembers helping people in need, remembers the horror of war and the cheer of Christmas. He recalls good friends, sweet smells and accordion music, and he has never written any of it down.

Coming to for a minute, he asks the woman where they stayed in Paris, and then he compares love to a pile of dung, and himself to a proud cock standing on it to crow. She asks if he has to "burn your saddle and your armour," why he has to destroy all her memories. Yes, he says, your money was my armor.

Harry continues to verbally spar with her, prodding her weak spots, trying deliberately to hurt her, saying " [t]he only thing I ever really liked to do with you I can't do now." She begins to cry, and Harry apologizes, saying that he does not know why he is acting this way, and lies to her, saying he's never loved anyone else the way he loves her. In the next sentence, he calls her a bitch. When she asks why he has to be this way, he says he does not want to leave anything behind.

That evening, after Harry wakens from a nap, the woman has gone out to hunt for some food. He ruminates that it is a shame that she became involved with him when he was "already over." He has spent years telling lies to different people with money, living off the luxury they could provide. Harry had told himself that he would leave them and write about them later, but he has gotten more and more comfortable until finally, he has stopped writing altogether. To him, the trip to Africa has been a way to get back in shape again.

Harry berates himself for turning his venom on her, and he berates himself for allowing himself for losing his talent. He has ruined his ability through alcoholism, through lack of practice, through social bias and through sheer laziness. He realizes his talent has been wasted, and he has made his living by loving increasingly wealthy women. This one out hunting truly does love him, yet all he can give her are lies.

Harry spends the next several paragraphs describing the character of the woman: she is attractive, with a nice body, and she is also an alcoholic. She has tried to fill her life with lovers, with books, with alcohol, but to no avail. The woman has come to be with Harry through a combination of several different circumstances, one of which being a need to escape her old life after one of her grown children dies in a plane crash. Harry thinks that now the life they have made together is ending because he forgot to use iodine two weeks ago when a thorn scratched his knee.

The woman returns to camp, reporting that she has shot a Tommy ram and will make stew for dinner. He tells her he is feeling better and they are pleasant to each other. She talks about plans to send out another smoke signal tomorrow. They relax and drink whiskey-sodas together, and the first feeling of the emptiness of death rushes over him.

Harry collapses into another long, silent reverie about his first mistress who had left him, about the loneliness he had felt and how the drink and the lovemaking with prostitutes could not quench his desire to be with her. He recalls the letter he had written her, asking her to write him at the office, and he remembers how his wife (whom he also loved) found out about the whole thing. Harry has always wanted to write about these women, but he did not because he did not want to hurt their feelings. It was his responsibility to write about those times, he thought, but now he could not.

The woman returns, offering broth; he refuses, saying he wants to write, and she says he needs to eat. He insists he is going to die, but takes the broth anyway. He feels death coming again, in a "puff," and decides he will not quarrel with her any more. Asking if she can take dictation, he falls into another memory that has never been written down.

This time, he returns to his grandfather's log house in the forest, where he had picked blackberries, and thinks about his grandfather's guns, which were melted down. He remembers the trout stream in the Black Forest and the innkeeper in Triberg. Harry thinks that he could dictate some things, but he could not dictate the sound and the smell of the Place Contrescarpe, the drunkards, the sportifs, the dirty streets or any of the other places and people he had loved in Paris.

She returns, offering more broth, and he refuses, asking for another whiskey-soda. He decides to sleep some more, looking for death, but it is still not there, and he realizes that not only has he never written about Paris, but also he has never written about so much else in his life. He recalls life on the ranch and recalls a story about a mentally retarded chore boy who murdered a man, and how Harry had had to turn him in to the authorities. Harry thinks that he knew at least twenty worthwhile stories from that place, and why had he never written one?

In his delirium, he asks the woman to tell them why, and she does not know what he is talking about. He decides that if he is to live, he will not write about the woman or any of the other rich people, for they are boring. He muses about death, thinking that it cannot hurt him if he chooses not to care about it. He is glad that the pain he was feeling is bearable for the time being.

Harry remembers a scene from the war in which an officer had been hit by a bomb. The officer was in horrible pain, his entrails spilling out of his body, and he begged Harry to shoot him; instead, Harry gave him all his morphine tablets.

Harry decides that dying is a boring process, has a few pleasant words with the woman and then he feels death come by again. He tells her the only thing he has lost is his curiosity; she disagrees. Suddenly, he notices that death is at the foot of his cot and he can smell its breath. Then it sits upon his chest, rendering him unable to do anything. He hears the woman say that he has fallen asleep. When his cot is lifted, the weight of death is gone.

It is morning; he hears the rescue plane coming, and greets his friend Compton, who tells him he is flying a small plane and there is only going to be room for one. Harry describes the scene as he watches the beasts of the plain get smaller while the plane soars into the heavens. The plane takes a different path until finally coming to the brilliant white top of Kilimanjaro. Harry knows this is where he is going.

The woman hears the hyena's cry in the night and wakes up, startled. She shines her flashlight over to Harry, calls to him and realizes that he is dead.