I ended up doubling back to write this a month or so after I read it because the story resonated with me more over time. I read many short stories and since this I've dipped into Shirley Jackson, Pynchon, some of Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes, Poe (who's one of my very favorite writers), Lovecraft (who's very much not one of my favorite writers), etc. And still this one seems to occupy a growing amount of brain real estate.
The characters are what most stuck with me. Each of the three main characters has their own voice and their own motivations and the titular Francis Macomber makes a drastic change in a story that involves a lot of introspection on his part. There is great difficulty in being confronted with our own faults. We're either crushed by them or evolve to overcome them, and that's what the story is about for Francis.
The more Hemingway I read, the more easily I'm able to turn aside criticisms of his focus on masculinity as dampening the quality of his work. In stories like this I find Hemingway to be intensely aware of his own weakness rather than thumping his chest and celebrating himself as a pillar of masculine vigor. In turning the spotlight on Francis's cowardice, Hemingway seems to be examining his own. I found it a deeply insecure and personal story for the writer.
The other two characters are equally intriguing. I didn't hate Margot and was surprised to see that other readers did. On the contrary, when considering her situation I actually grew somewhat sympathetic to her. She is certainly not a sympathetic character, but neither did I find her to be shallowly evil. Her marriage with Francis is not a happy one and the two are left in a martial power struggle because of their inability to end their involvement. Margot uses the weapons at her disposal to wound Francis in this martial cold war, and Francis does the same to Margot. I didn't find her to be a shoddily written women-are-evil type character that reviewers seem keen to toss Hemingway under the bus for, and, frankly, I find that critique to be as shallow and dishonest as it paints Margot. There's more here than that.
The only character I couldn't find much sympathy for was Wilson, who himself can't seem to find much sympathy for anyone in the story aside from the lion. Wilson shows little humanity and rationalizes his disinterest and near-sociopathy in childlike ways. He also provides an interesting foil to Macomber and Margot: two people who seem to care too much.
Wilson is the archetypal man's man in this story—the brave and capable hunter—and he's also the least likable fellow of the bunch. I believe Hemingway was aware of this and intended it. I don't think this is a story which says to us that Wilson is the ideal, and that Francis's weakness and cowardice is what dooms him. I believe it's a story that says to us that all men are weak and cowardly, and that examining this weakness, knowing it, coming to terms with, and overcoming it, is what true masculinity—or even humanity—is all about. Wilson is "strong" because he doesn't care. He's a man alone with no family or friends. Francis becomes strong because he does.
But perhaps I'm just projecting all of this onto the story because I enjoyed reading it. Perhaps it was intended to say the exact opposite of the message I took from it and I'm a total nincompoop. Either way, I quite enjoyed The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber. I enjoyed the characters, their power dynamic, and I greatly enjoyed the ending, which I found profound. Hemingway definitely has some stinkers, but this short story isn't one of them. It serves as a great companion for the introspective, cerebral, and more well-known The Snows of Kilimanjaro.
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