You’ve probably been there. Sitting across from someone you’re supposed to love, but the air feels like lead. Every word is a landmine. You’re talking about "the thing," but you aren’t actually saying the thing.
This is the exact vibe of Ernest Hemingway’s Hills Like White Elephants.
Published in 1927, this short story is basically the gold standard for saying a lot by saying almost nothing. It’s a tiny masterpiece of tension. Honestly, if you read it for the first time without a heads-up, you might think it's just about two people having a couple of beers in a dusty Spanish train station. But look closer. It’s actually a brutal, quiet war over a pregnancy and a looming abortion.
The Iceberg Theory in Action
Hemingway had this thing called the "Iceberg Theory." He believed that if a writer knows their subject well enough, they can omit big chunks of the story, and the reader will still feel the weight of what’s missing.
In Hills Like White Elephants, the word "abortion" is never used. Not once.
Instead, we get the American man calling it an "awfully simple operation." He tells the girl, whom he calls Jig, that it’s "just to let the air in." It’s cold. It’s clinical. He’s trying to gaslight her into thinking it’s no big deal so they can go back to their life of traveling and "trying new drinks."
But Jig isn't buying it. She knows that once they go through with it, they can't "have everything" anymore. The world they had is already broken.
Why the Hills Matter
The title itself, Hills Like White Elephants, comes from a comment Jig makes while looking at the landscape. "They look like white elephants," she says.
The man, being a literal-minded buzzkill, says he’s never seen one.
Historically, a "white elephant" was a gift that was sacred but incredibly expensive and useless to keep—a burden you couldn't get rid of. To the man, the unborn child is exactly that: a white elephant. It’s an unwanted burden that’s ruining his fun.
But for Jig, the hills also look like the curves of a pregnant body. She’s looking at the fertile side of the valley, with its fields of grain and trees, while they sit on the side that is "brown and dry." It’s a visual representation of her choice: life or barrenness.
The Power Struggle at the Table
The dialogue in this story is fast. Snippy. It’s the kind of bickering that happens when a relationship is already on its last legs.
- The American's Manipulation: He keeps saying he doesn't want her to do it if she doesn't want to. But then he follows it up with, "But I know it's perfectly simple." It's classic "I'm not forcing you, but I'm definitely forcing you" energy.
- Jig's Sarcasm: She’s smarter than him. She knows he’s full of it. When she asks, "And we could have all this?" she’s pointing out that their carefree lifestyle is an illusion.
- The Language Barrier: Jig doesn't speak Spanish. She has to rely on the man to talk to the waitress. This shows how dependent she is on him in this foreign place, which makes his pressure even more suffocating.
At one point, Jig gets so fed up she asks him to "please please please please please please please stop talking." Seven pleases. She’s hit a wall.
What Really Happens at the End?
The ending of Hills Like White Elephants is famously ambiguous. The train is coming in five minutes. The man carries the bags to the other side of the tracks. He has a drink by himself at the bar, watching the other people "waiting reasonably" for the train.
When he comes back, Jig smiles at him. "I feel fine," she says. "There’s nothing wrong with me. I feel fine."
Does she go through with it? Some critics think her smile means she’s given in. Others think it’s the smile of someone who has finally decided to leave him. Honestly, the most haunting interpretation is that she knows the relationship is dead regardless of the "operation."
Actionable Insights for Readers
If you're reading this for a class or just for fun, here is how to actually "get" the story:
- Watch the Drinks: They start with beer, then move to Anis del Toro. Anis tastes like licorice. Jig says it "tastes like liquorice... everything tastes like liquorice. Especially all the things you’ve waited so long for." It’s a metaphor for disappointment.
- Look at the Bags: The luggage is covered with labels from all the hotels where they’ve spent nights. They are nomads. They have no home, no roots. That’s why the man is so scared of a baby—it forces him to stop moving.
- The Shadow of the Cloud: Hemingway mentions a shadow of a cloud moving across the field of grain. It’s a tiny detail, but it signals that their "fertile" future is being eclipsed.
To truly understand Hills Like White Elephants, you have to read between the lines. It’s not a story about an operation; it’s a story about the moment a woman realizes the man she’s with doesn't actually see her as a person, but as an obstacle to his own freedom.
👉 See also: Why Battle Royale the Novel is Way Darker Than the Movies You've Seen
To dive deeper into Hemingway's world, try reading his other short story "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place" next. It deals with similar themes of existential emptiness and "nothingness" (or nada) but through the lens of age rather than a relationship. Or, compare Jig's situation to the protagonist in "Cat in the Rain" to see how Hemingway often portrayed women trapped in unsatisfying relationships with emotionally distant men.