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James ParkerFlashing back and forth between 1958 and the present, Adiós Hemingway is an elegantly turned meditation on the cold realities of age, the waning of strength and beauty and the production of literary myth. There is also — lest the theme should grow too weighty — some dexterous symbolic work with a pair of Ava Gardner's knickers. Thanks in part to John King's limpid, breezy translation, Adiós Hemingway reads cleanly and feels simple, but in his dreamy and dogged pursuit of Hemingway — this ''old, rather dirtybearded man with his large hands and feet'' — the former Inspector Conde is as psycholiterary a gumshoe as any Paul Auster fan could wish for.
— The New York Times