When I first picked up The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway, I was kind of psyched. I was like, yes, this is a tiny book with huge lettering; it looks more like a fifth grade novel than an eleventh grade novel. Do not get me wrong, I love reading. I went to Wisconsin a few weeks ago for five days and I read seven and a half books. Assigned reading is usually not quite so fun though, unfortunately.
Anyway, so I started to read. I was really surprised how easy the book was to read, although it was kind of basic and not very deep. At the same time, though, it was interesting. The old man just seemed kind of sad to me. I wanted to be his friend. I think he needed a hug, that would have cheered him up and helped his achin' bones. I guess the boy was good enough. That boy made me smile. Even though times have changed, the fact that a growing boy was still compassionate and caring enough to stick with the old man was just so touching to me. I cannot picture my brothers helping out some old man. If my parents made them, they would, but the boy in the story actually went against his parents wishes in order to help the old man! I just think that is so honorary and incredible. I would like to give that boy an award. I would give him a hug too.
The beginning of the book did kind of throw me off, though, it was sort of boring. I was like, what is the point of this story? Why do I care if the boy is going to get him trout? It is good information to know, but they seemed to focus a lot on petty unimportant things instead of clearing up things such as the old man's background and why he did not have his own family.
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