The Old man and the Sea
That's by Ernst Hemmingway. Read it several years ago, standing in a bookstore somewhere in Petaling Street. When I picked it up and started reading, the language just leaped out and drew me into into the story.
No, I wasn't even trying to understand the deeper meaning behind the parable, it was the language that was so powerful. That is the power of a well written story. Hemmingway's talent is making the most mundane plot come to life. We sympathize with the Old man when we reaches home, his prize catch chewed away by sharks.
I wish I could write like Hemmingway, but what I fear is that my prize catch something that I strive so hard for-dissappoints.
When I started this blog, I didn't expect myself to post like a mad man. But the ideas just kept flowing, the words just needed to be written. I guess that's the power of the blog and what I always yearned to do. Write and write and write with the assurance that someone out there might drop by and take a short little look.
No, I wasn't even trying to understand the deeper meaning behind the parable, it was the language that was so powerful. That is the power of a well written story. Hemmingway's talent is making the most mundane plot come to life. We sympathize with the Old man when we reaches home, his prize catch chewed away by sharks.
I wish I could write like Hemmingway, but what I fear is that my prize catch something that I strive so hard for-dissappoints.
When I started this blog, I didn't expect myself to post like a mad man. But the ideas just kept flowing, the words just needed to be written. I guess that's the power of the blog and what I always yearned to do. Write and write and write with the assurance that someone out there might drop by and take a short little look.
This entry was posted
on Saturday, February 05, 2005 at 12:49 AM.
You can skip to the end and leave a response.
» Post a Comment