Dropping this memoir, at least for now, as of page 107. The writing isn't at all bad but the book simply hasn't engaged me. It's all events, descriptions of places and animal behavior... but remarkably short on people: personalities, relationships, emotions. Perhaps this is why some suspect the book was ghostwritten by a man, a ridiculously sexist assumption; Beryl Markham was clearly far from a typical woman, so why would her writing seem feminine? But I wasn't getting a great sense of who she was either. If I had, the lack of development of everyone else might not have mattered.
Oh well, I can see why Hemingway was such a fan of this book, but it wasn't doing anything for me.