I've long known of Ernest Hemingway. I didn't study him in any of my English classes, and I couldn't have told you a single title of his, but I knew the name. My memorable introduction to him came from the American sit-com New Girl. Aspiring author Nick Miller concludes that he must be more like Hemingway in order to successfully write his book. He says, "I need real life adventure, like Ernest Hemingway had at my age. Man, I've gotta run with the bulls. I've gotta kill a man with my bare hands after making sweet love to him and then sleep in the warm belly of his horse. I've gotta eat my way out of a sandwich house!" to which another character responds, "How much you know about Hemingway?" It's a funny, slightly ridiculous scene, even for someone with no knowledge of the author. Upon reflection, Miller rather accurately hits on certain aspects of Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea (putting aside the sandwich house comment).
'I will show him what a man can do and what a man endures'
This novella was published ten years before Hemingway's suicide in 1952 and confronts the inevitable deterioration of old age. I initially chose to read The Old Man and the Sea because it was the only title of his I had heard of. Despite the renown, I did not like the story. A few months later, I reread it for the sake of this review. I went in the second time with space for redemption; some books take another go to really resonate, and I was willing to give this book that chance. Alas, the reread only solidified my lack of interest in the story.
There are many reasons for my low rating. The first, and most important, is that I simply couldn't bring myself to care about Santiago's battle with the marlin. Yes, he is an old man; yes, he has been branded as unlucky for his long streak of failure; yes, he is demoralised. But, while the concept is intriguing, the execution was disappointing.
The story starts off well enough. Before Santiago sets off on his hunt, I found myself wondering if he could succeed. His dynamic with a young boy, Manolin, who has moved to a “luckier” boat to please his father despite preferring to stay with Santiago, is endearing. Manolin himself acts as a symbol of youth and hope for the future— his admiration and love for Santiago showing how Santiago is not only a respected man and fisherman, but that his valuable knowledge will live on in Manolin. The boy’s presence is one of the redeeming qualities of this book, with Santiago’s longing for him while alone in the sea adding a tender note to his character.
Once Manolin has left the scene, however, the story quickly dries up. I am not demanding a swashbuckling tale of adventure—I am as easily contented with a slow-paced story as a fast-paced one—but this took a step beyond slow-paced into the realm of boring. Things do happen, of course: Santiago observes a bird diving for fish and suspects that it will soon be eaten by a hawk, a comment on the natural cycle of life the world runs on. The old man sleeps, dreams of lions, reminisces on a fight from his youth, eats some tuna, catches a dolphin and eats it. He hooks the marlin and struggles to keep ahold of the line which cuts into the palms of his hand and draws blood, a true battle of the flesh. Sharks arrive and feast on the marlin – a much more strenuous battle, stabbing at the sharks to defend his marlin yet ultimately failing to prevent the inevitable. Though the events of this fable are laden with meaning, there is so much dullness and repetitiveness surrounding them that the act of reading was a struggle and only became more of a struggle the further in I got.
The understated style which Hemingway is known for only succeeded in making this already slow story feel glacial. The mere 97 pages still felt too long and left me begging Santiago to cut the damn line and be done with it. I often relish the payoff of a good buildup, but my here patience was surpassed, and I had no interest in witnessing Santiago prove himself. If there was a point where I pitied him - for he is an old man who was once respected as one of the most experienced in his craft and the knowledge that you will never be as good as you once were is undoubtedly difficult to accept – it was lost in my exasperation at the endless towing and determination to prove himself.
‘“Fish,” he said, “I love you and respect you very much. But I will kill you dead before this day ends.”’
If Santiago merely wanted to prove himself still capable of the thing he loves so much, I might have forgiven his persistence. But his pride was rooted in his pride of masculinity as much as his profession. He claimed that “pain does not matter to a man”, accused his left hand of being a “traitor” and that he “did not trust it” because it cramped up. He even stated that, “you did not kill the fish only to keep alive… you killed him for pride”. Despite returning to shore with only a carcass, mentally depleted and physically exhausted, he still succeeded in the eyes of the town, who admired the size of the marlin’s remains and the ability of Santiago to have caught it. Yet, all I could wonder is if it was worth it. Is that what Hemingway deemed the purpose of men? To suffer and suffer until you are utterly wrecked for the sake of pride? Drive and determination are admirable, but surely knowing when to concede, choosing to protect yourself over your pride, are more important values to have.
In short, this story did not resonate with me. I won’t deny that there were parts where I was teetering on the edge of being invested and phrases that I lingered on with interest, but overall I would not choose to read this a third time. Maybe, possibly, in thirty or forty years, I might pick it up again and connect with it–love it, even. I am not, after all, an old man. Maybe it failed to resonate with me because I cannot relate to it, though I doubt that was the issue here. For now, I maintain that it was dry and frustrating, and found no pleasure, entertainment, or satisfaction from the famous tale.
