The Old Man And The Sea: The Leisurely Masterpiece

I actually read this novella a few years back, in preparation for teaching it to my ninth grade students. I have an Audible version, narrated by the great Donald Sutherland, may he rest in peace.

I am heartened to hear that Hemingway disdained any belief that he was using symbolism, because I didn’t detect any. I think it’s just a story about a man, unlucky and unfortunate in human terms, who goes out in the water to do the only thing he knows: catch a big fish.

In this, Santiago reminds me of all my favorite aging athletes: Nolan Arenado, Roger Federer, Tom Brady, and many others. I am the young boy Manolin, who believes fervently in the old man’s greatness. If anything, Santiago is himself Manolin, with respect to Joe DiMaggio. He takes the joy of hearing about DiMaggio’s exploits—watching in his mind’s eye—as energy for the task. As inspiration for his own efforts.

Santiago goes out too far, of course. Manolin is not there, because his father has told him Santiago is “salao,” the worst form of unlucky. He daydreams about a days-long arm-wrestling match from years ago; Santiago imagines therefore that his battle with the giant marlin is a battle of wills, and little else.

There is success and failure together, almost conjoined. The thing that shines through the story is dignity. More than this, a majesty that has nothing to do with the results of the expedition. Santiago has a glorious human dignity regardless, but it’s enhanced by his talent exercised especially in the past, along with the reputation this would have engendered. Santiago and the marlin share a respect proper to each as vulnerable creatures. Santiago says poignantly, “If you love him, it is not a sin to kill him.”

Santiago and Manolin are both certainly ennobled by their love for one another, though it cannot be equal. Santiago is strengthened by Manolin’s belief in him. He’s strengthened by the memory of his wife, who died years ago.

Though we must mark Santiago’s promises and reflections on prayer as superstition, we can be thankful for the proclamation of the gospel of Jesus Christ, whose very name has created cultures and civilizations.

When Manolin cries at the conclusion of the story, it surely is multifaceted: concern for Santiago, the unfortunate circumstances, wonder at Santiago’s achievement nonetheless, and maybe other things.

Hemingway groused about the Nobel Prize for this work, but I am happy to say that it functions as a sort of lifetime achievement award here, and even so, this novella is memorable.

It’s not always easy to find Hemingway in his work, but he’s never far away, even if he’s not taking the place of a character.

I commend this story to you, for multiple readings.

Jason Kettinger is Associate Editor of Open for Business. He writes on politics, sports, faith and more.