Full disclosure, I just turned the last page and I'm drunk. Alright, why am I writing this? I just read Old Man and the Sea because it's a quintessential classic and afterwards I googled some opinions on it because it seems like the kind of book you discuss. Turns out a lot of people don't even like it! That's the sort of thing you'd want to know before reading it right?
But you know what? I fegging loved it! I see people complaining that it's a drag. Yes it is, it's an 80 page story that's a drag, that's an achievement in and of itself.
But you know what? It's supposed to be a farking drag! That's my takeaway anyway. The story is a painful slog in the same way that Santiago's experience of reeling in the fish is an ensufferement. Yeah, I know that's not a word, deal with it.
And that matters because while you're suffering through the story, like Santiago is suffering with his cramping hands getting rope burned while his back aches, you got time to reflect. You got time to reflect on Santiago's delirious musings on friendship. On suffering to achieve your goals. On the way we kill and destroy for our advantage.
The story drags to hammer home the point Hemmingway makes about the nature of struggle, success and defeat. That you can destroy a man but not defeat him as long as his spirit is strong. As long as he masters his suffering to obtain success.
You might not be able to master bad luck. You can't kill all the sharks that circle. But just like the sharks stripping the old man's fish, they couldn't take away the fact that he triumphed over the fish because he mastered his suffering.
So yeah, while everyone's entitled to their opinions. I say I fugging loved this story. No pulp entertainment here but an arrogant bastard of a tale that mashes your face into the dolphin meat on the bow because it's the story you need instead of the story you want.
But what the fuck do I know. I drank from the first page to the last and I think that's the only way to appreciate this story.
Incidentally, if you're into scotch, Ardbeg Corryvreckan is a beast of a drink. The initial peppery burn gives way to a smooth combination of flavours that wrap up in a tongue-coating oily smooth smokiness that is the very definition of a complex drink. My ex described it as chewing up three cigarettes before setting your mouth on fire. I highly recommend it. It'll put hair on your moustache.
Now I'm off to bed. I'm having a horrible sensation of sobering up that is entirely unwelc
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Hi Everyone!
We're starting the monthly book club. To celebrate it's entry into the public domain we will be reading Ernest Hemingway's 1926 novel The Sun Also Rises.
Click here for a free copy of the novel.
Reading Schedule :
| Chapter 1-12 | January 16 | |
|---|---|---|
| Chapter 13-19 | January 25 |
I hope we can revive this Book Club and I hope you all enjoy this book. If you have any suggestions for the bookclub or to improve the engagement in the subreddit please write them down in the comments.
Peace.
Did this ever reach KGB proportions? Everyone turning their neighbor in? This seems like it would take a huge amount of manpower, were people deputized just to surveil?
Link to article i got the idea from
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2011/jul/03/fbi-and-ernest-hemingway
Edit: because the mod summed up my question better than i could have:
What does that mean from the perspective of the people doing the surveillance or from the people being surveilled? What would Hemingway's or MLK's surveillance have looked like, how much manpower would have gone into them, was it all Bureau personnel or did they employ civilian informants?
Welcome everyone.
Today is the first discussion of Ernest Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises. We will be discussing chapters 1-12.
I've prepared a few basic questions as a starting point for our discussion. You don't need to answer these questions in your comments. Feel free to post any opinions/queries about the novel.
Questions :
-
What do you think of the characters Robert Cohn, Jake Barnes and Lady Brett Ashley, and their relationship with each other?
-
What do you think of the prose style and the dialogues in the novel?
-
What role do you think Alcohol plays in the story?
I tried finding more questions but they all felt like Homework so I wrote whatever came to my mind. Again you don't necessarily need to answer these questions. Just write whatever you felt/noticed during your reading.
When I wake up in the morning
after pretending that I sleep
Decide which wrong side
Of the four surrounding me
Happens to be this morning’s
little daily doozy of a blunder
where I kamikaze outward
with my feet flailing upwards
as gravity straight up slams
me and my groggy ass
into the hardwood floor that is reality.
Judges score my poor excuse
of an inward piking dive
straight zeros across the board
due to the horrendous showing
that was my tragically bad execution and form.
Amidst the grunts, groans and moans
That I perpetually bellow out in mourning
Of the ever evanescent absentee morning glory
I slowly begin reverting back
to a rise-and-shine composure
Once Again levelheaded; back nose-over-tail
I ascend like a phoenix from the cacophony of
crooned bellyaching betwixt eclipsing
melancholic bolstered wails
Somehow I Colonel-Muster-up
the strength to set my sails
And take off slowly crawling for the kitchen
Looking as if i was impersonating
a disabled paraplegic dying snail sluggishly running
himself up and off of the rails….
When I drag my lazy ass
to coffee in the morning
after convincing myself
that I actually ever do really sleep…
Lay a new filter down,
Add a cup of finely ground up rounds
Grab the little empty pot,
Fill it nearly to the top
With whatever h20 and/or
leftover vodka that ya got,
Pour the liquid down the spinal chord
of this magical machine
Slide the newly empty pot
Firmly back up in its’ spot,
Hit the button at the bottom
And hope that I’m still alive and breathing
when it finally brews the whole lot.
To ensure that it’s properly working
It’s probably best to crowd
and hover overtly closely over it
If I’m lucky all of the excess heat
will help fully deplete and, in turn,
This Completely freeing me
From the left over toxins that got me staring
super close and all sorts of creepily
Like a goldfish swimming in an aquarium
Would almost certainly see
A cat directly outside locked on with its eyes
Deeply contemplating how
To extract the little free tiny fishy feast
Sitting easily within an arm’s reach,
Sink in its teeth for today’s protein.
Shit, now I’m hungry
But I ain’t got time to eat.
Guess I’ll have a cigarette instead
Relax and try to un-fuck my head…
But when I waste away half of my morning
Playing the waiting game for coffee, tea, or espresso
Even though that I already know
Each of these offers me
Hardly
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