Author Archives: F. E. Guerra-Pujol
Why not probabilistic interpretation?
A new article in the Columbia Law Review titled “Reasons for Interpretation” by Francisco J. Urbina (see here) brought to my mind my 2016 paper “Probabilistic Interpretation“. For his part, Professor Urbina presents a “systematic analysis of the different kinds … Continue reading
Hemingway in Istanbul: a postscript
Note: this is the last installment (for now) of my series of blog posts on “Hemingway in Istanbul” Over a decade after his visit to Constantinople in 1922, Hemingway wrote a piece of fiction titled “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” (Hemingway … Continue reading
Buyak Londra
We clattered up a steep street, past shop windows, banks, restaurants, saloons with their signs printed in four languages, scraped by jangling tramcars, were honked at by motorcars filled with British officers, were nearly run down by motors filled with … Continue reading
The Old Galata Bridge
“We drove in a mass of traffic onto a long bridge. White pants [Hemingway’s hired guide] gave the Turkish gendarme a dirty, crumpled note, and we crossed a tangle of shipping on both sides. You can only see patches of the … Continue reading
Sunday song: Guantanamera
I will resume my series on “Hemingway in Istanbul” on Monday; in the meantime, below is the Cuban folk song Guantanamera, one of my father’s favorite songs. This version features 75 musicians on the Island and in exile. May our … Continue reading
In memory of my father, Don Francisco
(Today, 2 Nov., is Día de los Muertos.)
November 1st: All Saints’ Day
I will resume my series on “Hemingway in Istanbul” in the next day or two; in the meantime, check out this short but informative video by Jared Dees a/k/a “The Religion Teacher” explaining the meaning of All Saints’ Day:
Müşir Ahmet Paşa Station (Sirkeci garı)
“In the station are a jam of porters, hotel runners, and Anglo-Levantine gentlemen in slightly soiled collars, badly soiled white trousers, garlicized breaths and hopeful manners who hope to be hired as interpreters…. I called a porter, gave him my … Continue reading
Hemingway in Istanbul, part 1
The train passes the old, reddish Byzantine wall and goes into a culvert again. It comes out and you get flashes of squatting, mushroom-like mosques always with their dirty-white minarets rising from the corners. Everything white in Constantinople is dirty … Continue reading
Twitter Tuesday: what is knowledge?
The replies to Professor McKenna’s timeless query (see below) are worth perusing!

