A feminist alternative to Fetterley's critique of A Farewell to Arms After finishing A Farewell to Arms, I found it difficult to reconcile the feminist attack of Judith Fetterley's novel with my personal opinions. I agree that Hemingway kicks women to the curb in his portrayal of Catherine, but my reasons for attributing this crime to Hemingway are different than his. Although he means well, Fetterley makes the ridiculous claim that by describing Catherine as an "angelic, loving woman to end all women", Hemingway is masking misogynistic attitudes and a deep-seated hatred of the XX chromosome. This claim is not supported by the text. If we look at Hemingway through the lens of his own words, we find that his misogyny arises not from a "too good to be true" portrayal of Catherine, but rather from his tendency to cast her into the dirt: Catherine is a dependent, baby-producing trap who suffocates Lieutenant Henry: "Poor, poor dear Cat. And this was the price you paid for sleeping together. This was the end of the trap" (320). It is his penchant for sex and his need for feminine comfort that drives Henry to return to Catherine, not some notion of "love" or true connection. This is Hemingway's misogyny, however unintentional, exposed. But to get a true sense of this "anti-Fetterley" feminist vision of the novel, it is important to also look at the details of Hemingway's construction of Catherine: facts that are in direct opposition to Fetterley's overt attacks. First of all, Catherine is not Fetterley's unique, unattainable goddess: she is an object in Henry's universe, a feast of sensation but nothing more. It is similar to good food and good drink: "'I was made to eat. My God, yes. Eat, drink and sleep with Catherine'" (233). Indeed, Henry's thoughts about Catherine, both when he is in the front row and at her side, are mixed with a desire for good wine and reflections on sumptuous meals. In Henry's world, a good Capri would be nice, a nice piece of cheese would be great, and sleeping with Catherine would be sublime. All these things equate to the satisfaction of basic human needs. From time to time, Henry feels a rumbling in his loins, a periodic hunger for the "cheese" between Catherine's legs. Hemingway dissolves Catherine into the lowest common denominator: the object, devoid of meaning or real importance (when Henry is not hungry).