Old Man Of the Sea

"Every day is a new day. It is better to be lucky. But I would rather be exact. Then when luck comes you are ready." – The Old Man And The Sea. Page 32

I completed Ernest Hemingway’s short novella, The Old Man And The Sea, on Thursday. I find myself uncertain as to whether I liked it or not. It was my first Hemingway novel; I’ve read his short stories in anthologies and on the whole I’ve liked them. The Old Man And The Sea was a short 120 pages, though to be honest it took me three separate tries to complete the whole thing. At first I kept stumbling over the simplistic nature of the prose. It wasn’t interesting to me. I couldn’t lack on to any adjectives or emotions, I found myself drifting through it. On Thursday, August 20, 2009 – I attempted to read it in broad day light instead of my usual time – late at night. I dove through it and was done in a couple of hours. All I got was the crisp picture, photograph style, left in the sun to fade with time. It was just so different. I feel apathetic towards the whole experience. I’m unable to put any words to it; really. I realize its an American classic and its changed the way we write, but honestly I expected something that would cause a visceral reaction. I’ve got none.

The simple prose baffle me, does it have a deeper meaning I’m missing it? Is it lurking under the current like the giant marlin, the old man hunts? The old man, Santiago, represents the very essence of manhood. The very core of it – the notion that a true man, or in this case a Hemingway man, is knit together by more than muscle and flesh but sheer will, and even in the face of crushing opposition/defeat his will is never undone. Through pain and humiliation, the old man perseveres and survives, even in the face of Gods displeasure ( Unluckiness). All this is the presented on the surface – and I walked a way feeling the burden and the courage of such a man. I admire all this – for Hemingway to pack all this in such a short amount of pages – its beautiful – and yet it feels so naked. Uncoupled with adjectives, or even hidden means. The simple sentences are refreshing and unnerving all at the same time. I feel them lurking, hiding the emotion landscape/thoughts/ and the color we usually associate with reading.

I understand why Hemingway is though of as such a great writer, though I’d say I’m not necessary a fan of this kind of literature, I can appreciate it.What are your thoughts on Hemingway and The Old Man And the Sea?

Unaccustomed Earth

It’s appropriate for me to begin my blog with a review of Jumpa Lahiri third book, Unaccustomed Earth, because it sums up the immigrant experience. It’s not really about the simple first generation, which is forever tied to an original place, but rather the confusing mesh of second generation trials and tribulations. Lahiri writes this compilation of short stories, after her internationally acclaimed novel, The Namesake – the pressure to produce another hit must have been great. Her title is distilled from a Nathaniel Hawthorne story, in which he argues that human beings, like plants thrive when they are planted in unaccustomed earth. Hawthorne claims that when placed in completely new situations, human beings evolve. . Lahiri explores this notion of hardiness in eight short stories. She traces the lives of Bengali Americans from their first encroachment onto the American shores, usually via the Ivy Leagues, and progression through second generation.

She begins her tale with an amazing break from tradition by writing about a father and daughter relationship that is poignant, and insightful about the very generational divide. I cannot say anymore than that without ruining it for readers. After this stupendous start Lahiri struggles with originality in story, she falls into the Namesake vibe. Several stories are not memorable, and they feel oddly familiar and predicable, but the fruits of this labor awaits those who swim through the familiar, Lahiri throws away the shackles that might have bound her in the second half of the book. She tells a second generation love story, intertwining everything in the process, all the attempts at newness and spark from all the other short stories, fall into line and deliver an irresistible story.

Jumpa Lahiri is a brilliant writer because she is honest with her subjects. She tells the tale of Bengali Americans in every stage of development: from the traditional biochemist/doctor, to the failed alcoholic brother. She writes crisp insightful sentences that sing of the page. I hope she continues to write about her subject with vigor and passion.