The old man and the sea

[ I'm not writing a book review, you might as well open the Wikipedia and check it out if you're interested. it's an incomparably wonderful book ]

Ernest Hemingway's


The old man and the sea...


I have a wallpaper i downloaded from the internet that says,"you know you've read a good book when you turn the last page and feel as if you lost a friend".
When i turned the last page i didn't feel like i lost my friend. I felt lost. I wished ,I so wished i was there in that book to appreciate the old man, praise him for the fight. Praise the dead fish for the fight. Praise the little boy for this affection.

As the brave fish edged closer to destruction, it wasn't just the fish anymore, it was a part of the spirit i adored that met with it's fate. But no, i didn't pray for the sharks to go away, i didn't want the fight to end. I wanted him to fight for his fish and he fought more than all quotes on hope ever taught me.

They say there's Christian symbolism in that book. I don't know. I didn't see it. I didn't see anything but what he showed, as in a motion picture and i saw every wave and tide in all their glorious description. And Hemingway described it so well, so very very well, that the actual world and the environment subsided into a dull knowledge at the back of my mind and Hemingway's world turned out into 'the happening world'. When i put it down, believe me. I felt torn. It was like I didn't belong here anymore. Whether as the fisherman or the fish, i didn't want to leave the sea. Blue-green sea, sunrise and sunset, fish, moss, and sky, it was a living entity.

It was love. For all the beauty, the cruelty, the tempers, the depths, the living that live in and the living that live on the sea... And though I know i didn't see it, if someone reminded me of the same thing, I'd break crying anytime. And yes, the book has a sweet ending. But there's nothing sweet in knowing the sea has come to end, tragic or sweet. I cried like hell has frozen over. It broke my heart. Like nothing else. All those personal defeats i cried for seem so small in comparison to this.

A masterpiece. I'd guarantee it. But it's a must that you read it at one go.

Note:I wish i used superlatives freely for what they mean. But sadly, we've been using them for every little thing (a pretty pen or a new dress) that using the same words for something as brilliant would be a shame. I hope you understand the kind of book it is.