Chomping on Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea (1952)

From the genius who taught us to write one true sentence. Reflecting on a riveting classic while it’s fresh, like fish.

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

~ Ernest Hemingway

As a writer, I can attest to the above, and I know many of my counterparts will agree. I have one dear colleague who commiserates with me on the awe-full-ness of our work. One must write, and one can find sweet relief through publication, but the guts of the process aren’t pretty. Much like cleaning a fish.

In keeping with my theme of devouring classic literature like highest quality food (see my recent examination of Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath), I simply have to dive in and urge you to (a) read Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man And the Sea (1952) if you haven’t yet or (b) revisit it if you’ve not done so since high school.

What a whopper.

Original edition, 1952

While reading this short novella, I gasped aloud - jaws agape. The reading time takes only two or three hours, but it’s best savored slowly, just as one stews a bouillabaisse or cioppino. The imagery, the potency captured in such a tiny stretch of time in a man’s seafaring life, is so rich that one misses the goodies if devoured too quickly.

Hemingway took almost twenty years to craft this piece. It simmered within, until he finally settled into a period where he could bring it all to life, hook by hook, bait by bait. The tale (and I won’t give you a spoiler here – I hate spoilers) is simple:

An old Cuban man wrestles with a giant fish in the Gulf Stream.

How basic of a plot can you get?

And yet! The nourishment offered goes in with every nibble. This is due to an unsurpassed level of detail stemming from Hem’s care of the true sentence alongside his own passion for deep sea fishing. One can feel Ernest enacting every turn of the Old Man in his mind’s eye while hammering the typewriter. One can feel Hem pacing the floor, nursing another scotch and soda, while he nibbles on the next line. The enormous level of thoughtfulness exerted is almost as painful as the feat found within the tale, the Old Man wrestling with the impossible.

“Santiago” by Raymond Sheppard, Illustrator.

“Courage is grace under pressure.” ~ Ernest Hemingway

In addition to the sheer force in Hem’s writing, the beauty of Old Man to me lies in the sense that the process of writing the tale mirrors the plot.

Commitment. Endurance. Faith. The Inevitable. Two decades after gaining the original inspiration, Hemingway’s most acclaimed novella earned him the Pulitzer (1953) then sealed the deal on his worthy receipt of the Nobel Prize for Literature (1954).

In addition to an incomparable honoring of the Wild within and without, Hem’s Old Man gifted me with a number of gorgeous gems such as:

• The art of doing difficult things

• The need for complete concentration and whole-mindedness

• The call for taking one minute action at a time

• The effectiveness of complete presence

• The role of neutrality and doing the needful without judgment

• The pleasure of the magnificence in the ordinary

• The total acceptance of one’s destiny

• The courage to wrestle with the impossible

Literature is food for the body-mind-soul. Like spending time in Nature, or with great art and music, we can fill our well quickly and cleanly through devouring classics. It keeps the mind fresh, the critical thinking skills alive. We continue to learn, not from what’s being spoon-fed, but through a slow drip of good vitamins and healthy fats. Bonus: reading books makes one a better writer, speaker, communicator – and that makes for clearer sailing in any weather.

I’d love to hear if you remember this book in a special way, or if you take it upon yourself to tackle it.

See you in the comments.

With love and good reading,

Erin

Hemingway in Cuba, 1953

I used to love this song “Calypso” (1975) as a child. John Denver wrote the song to honor his friend, the oceanographer Jacques Cousteau. Calypso was the name of Cousteau’s great research ship. Does anyone remember this ballad?

If that’s too kitsch for you, here’s another 1982 classic shanty that always lights our way with its fabulous harmonies: