Though this is easy to lose sight of amidst the frenzy of Parisian nights and the Spanish fiesta, bear in mind that the novel's central characters are both veterans: Jake Barnes flew an airplane in the Great War, while Brett Ashley served in a wartime hospital. In fact, one of the novel's primary dichotomies is between those characters who are war veterans (Jake; Brett; Brett's fiancé, Mike Campbell; Count Mippipopolous) and those, like Robert Cohn, who are not. (Bill Gorton's status is unclear; perhaps he was a war correspondent.) Nearly everything that goes on in The Sun Also Rises is a reaction to the trauma of the war, both physical and psychic, from the almost unbelievable consumption of alcohol by the veterans and their compulsive traveling from place to place, to Brett's sexual promiscuity and the healing fishing trip taken by Jake and Bill. If the Great War hadn't happened, we are meant to understand, these characters would be doing very different things.
Which brings us to The Sun Also Rises as a love story. Even the most casual reader recognizes that Jake Barnes and Brett Ashley share a profound mutual attraction. They love one another deeply, and their carnal desire for each other is fierce. The problem: Jake has been wounded in the war in such a way that sexual intercourse is now impossible for him. Significantly, the particular nature of his wound has not ruled out desire, just its satisfaction. (It seems that he has lost his penis but not his testicles.) Therefore, being near Brett is agony for Jake. He could probably satisfy her sexually, and he may have done so during the period referred to when they attempted a relationship. But Jake himself exists in a kind of erotic limbo, like Greek mythology's Tantalus, who keeps bending over to drink the water he stands in, only to have it drain away immediately.
