At so many colliding moments, Jake Barnes was such an anti-hero. He was not cruel; he was not spiteful. But he was so unbelievably "lost,"" an expatriate who had lost his "touch with the soil."" There was no depth to what he did. Like a Bohemian, he imbibed alcohol and caroused his nights away. Jake, poor man, was impotent, and his lifestyle, full of inane chatter on war and women, full of crowded dances and bars and ritually stunning fiestas, reflected this.
But despite this, despite his being a half-man living a half-life, he endeavored to live gracefully. He held together his "grace under pressure."" For was Jake's life not a continually suffocating existence? Brett, his one love, was fish who tested warmer waters. He would forever be devoid of the physical intimacy on which Brett thrived, and for that reason, she resolved not to enter a romantic relationship with him. Jake, like the Hemingway hero that he is, did not mope about or pity himself. Instead, he was Brett's most dependable companion. .
There's no doubt that Jake was a flawed character. But what elevated himself above the other characters in the book, especially Romero, was the fact that, despite being so indelibly mangled, Jake strove for dignity in a world that simply does not care. He hated Cohn because he represented all of the old-fashioned facets "romance and love at-fist-sight expressions born out of The Purple Land. Mike was a "bad drunk- who spoke too freely, was sloppy with his emotions, and overall was far too indelicate. These characters, these "swell friends,"" were emphasized purely for the elevation of Jake. These characters were the failed specimens. .
But Jake was not, because by the end of the novel, he finally realized that reality is reality. It is a thing with which to cope. It is an everlasting acceptance that, like his relationship with Brett, could have been a "damned good time.
