Shibumi by Trevanian

Shibumi by Trevanian

Shibui (渋い) (adjective), shibumi (渋み) (noun), or shibusa (渋さ) (noun) are Japanese words which refer to a particular aesthetic of simple, subtle, and unobtrusive beauty. Like other Japanese aesthetic terms, such as iki and wabi-sabi, shibui can apply to a wide variety of subjects, not just art or fashion.

The book outlays the story of a man of passion, a passion for being human, where the phrase would mean that Pandora’s box didn’t include this man or the apple that Adam ate did not have any effect on this particular descendant of his or any other myth that can be thought of as an anti climax of being human in that myth.

Nicholai Hel is a man who despises worldly pursuits and is most rational of all human beings. The beauty of Trevanian’s story is that he tells a story rather than write a story. The reader is taken through a whirlwind of emotions, barely concealed in an attempt at high literature and yet the book is wonderfully acceptable. All through the book, your rational mind might tell you that the author is a absolute dandy writer and doesn’t know how to take care of the essence of the story. 

Shibumi is a novel by Trevanian, a pseudonym of Rodney William Whitaker, an American academic who remained mysterious throughout most of his life. Shibumi is set in the 1970s and details the struggle between the "Mother Company", a conspiracy of energy companies that secretly controls much of the western world, and a highly-skilled assassin, Nicholaï Hel.

The book contains 6 chapters of unequal length, each of them bearing the name of a go game figure:

1. Fuseki : The opening stage of a game when the entire board is taken into account.
2. Sabaki : An attempt to dispose of a troublesome situation in a quick and flexible way.
3. Seki A neutral situation in which neither side has the advantage. A "Mexican stand-off."
4. Uttegae A sacrifice play, a gambit.
5. Shicho A running attack.
6. Tsuru no Sugomori "The confinement of the cranes to their nest," a graceful maneuver in which the enemy stones are captured.

One of the true tests of finding out the lifespan of a book, not the day when the leafs are tattered and letters barely readable, not the carbon dated age of the book, rather the age mentioned is the time span before it may go into oblivion without a single reprint for a significant period of time (Why I am saying significant period of time is because books like phoenix might be resurrected from ashes, but that will be counted as a separate life), now this lifespan can be found out by trying to recollect from memory the entire book on a one fine morning. This is exactly what I am doing now. It is a fine morning in Bangalore, and I do not remember anything about Shibumi right now. Rather the hero of Eiger sanction is coming to my mind. Slowly the picture of Hel as a young boy comes up. Sketchy pictures of Hel in occupied Japan, his trainings in Go, his work at the American intelligence and none more. There was a girl involved. Why was he so embittered? Definitely there has to be a girl involved. That plays a crucial part in the entire plot. Somewhere he pays back to the guy who made him like this.

Now since it has come back, let me get back to the main course of this post. The book is more about a way of thinking of the author that is based on a very healthy respect for Japanese life and a measure of skepticism for American life, one wonders! Hel is born a Russian. His ways are Japanese. His mother was a survivor. She never took care of him, but a Japanese General who was his mother’s consort took care of him. Hel loved a girl. He is experienced, a master of sex. His games of sex are detailed in a very masochist manner. Again one gets to wonder about the author or his targeted audience. What is he writing or who is he writing for? These should not be answered in black and white, hence just the questions. 

One major event in the book, which would be hard for a person of lesser stomach to understand would be killing of his father-like figure, the Japanese General. I found this to be the most important aspect of character of Nicholai Hel which is brought out in full fury in the entire book only in this instance. Every other character receives only a part of his full nature.

Another character in the book is a friend of Hel. A very impossible friendship, because the two friends are in extremes of the male spectrum held by a thin strand of respect based on mutual admiration of others skill, and the need for that skill for each person’s survival. Can these be termed as cold or selfish? Throughout the life of two characters, they might have thought very minimal about the other and never considered this to be a cozy friendship. By the end of the book, Trevanian actually makes the characters to behave contrary to their nature. The friendship is found through sacrifice and revenge. Questions are answered on humanness of every single person in the book.

Shibumi is a very good book, for a light reading, to make sure that there is exotic imagery still alive in your brain’s deepest corners. The imagery of Go, martial arts and the whole plots of revenge makes it a racy read without giving you a moment to think back and ask yourself whether this is really connected to the real world. Ultimately, this book stood in my shelf for a few days after which I gave away to a needier person.

More insightful book reviews may be found here.

Sometimes, heeding a little word of advice do good too

1. A Cup of Tea

Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-1912), received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen.
Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor’s cup full, and then kept on pouring.
The professor watched the overflow until he no longer could restrain himself. "It is overfull. No more will go in!"
"Like this cup," Nan-in said, "you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?"

2. The Burden

Two monks were returning to the monastery in the evening. It had rained and there were puddles of water on the road sides. At one place a beautiful young woman was standing unable to walk accross because of a puddle of water. The elder of the two monks went up to a her lifted her and left her on the other side of the road, and continued his way to the monastery.
In the evening the younger monk came to the elder monk and said, "Sir, as monks, we cannot touch a woman ?"
The elder monk answered "yes, brother".
Then the younger monk asks again, "but then Sir, how is that you lifted that woman on the roadside ?"
The elder monk smiled at him and told him " I left her on the other side of the road, but you are still carrying her."

3. Finding a Piece of the Truth

One day Mara, the Evil One, was travelling through the villages of India with his attendants. he saw a man doing walking meditation whose face was lit up on wonder. The man had just discovered something on the ground in front of him. Mara’s attendant asked what that was and Mara replied, "A piece of truth."
"Doesn’t this bother you when someone finds a piece of truth, O Evil One?" his attendant asked. "No," Mara replied. "Right after this, they usually make a belief out of it."

4. The Other Side

One day a young Buddhist on his journey home came to the banks of a wide river. Staring hopelessly at the great obstacle in front of him, he pondered for hours on just how to cross such a wide barrier. Just as he was about to give up his pursuit to continue his journey he saw a great teacher on the other side of the river. The young Buddhist yells over to the teacher, "Oh wise one, can you tell me how to get to the other side of this river"?
The teacher ponders for a moment looks up and down the river and yells back, "My son, you are on the other side".

5. Is That So?

The Zen master Hakuin was praised by his neighbors as one living a pure life.
A beautiful Japanese girl whose parents owned a food store lived near him. Suddenly, without any warning, her parents discovered she was with child.
This made her parents very angry. She would not confess who the man was, but after much harassment at last named Hakuin.
In great anger the parents went to the master. "Is that so?" was all he would say.
When the child was born, the parents brought it to the Hakuin, who now was viewed as a pariah by the whole village. They demanded that he take care of the child since it was his responsibility. “Is that so?” Hakuin said calmly as he accepted the child.
A year later the girl-mother could stand it no longer. She told her parents the truth – that the real father of the child was a young man who worked in the fishmarket.
The mother and father of the girl at once went to Hakuin to ask his forgiveness, to apologize at length, and to get the child back again.
Hakuin was willing. In yielding the child, all he said was: "Is that so?"

6. Maybe

Once upon the time there was an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. “Such bad luck,” they said sympathetically.
“Maybe,” the farmer replied.
The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. “How wonderful,” the neighbors exclaimed.
“Maybe,” replied the old man.
The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune.
“Maybe,” answered the farmer.
The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son’s leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out.
“Maybe,” said the farmer.

7. Cliffhanger

One day while walking through the wilderness a man stumbled upon a vicious tiger. He ran but soon came to the edge of a high cliff. Desperate to save himself, he climbed down a vine and dangled over the fatal precipice.
As he hung there, two mice appeared from a hole in the cliff and began gnawing on the vine.
Suddenly, he noticed on the vine a plump wild strawberry. He plucked it and popped it in his mouth. It was incredibly delicious!

8. The Blind Men and the Elephant

Several citizens ran into a hot argument about God and different religions, and each one could not agree to a common answer. So they came to the Lord Buddha to find out what exactly God looks like.
The Buddha asked his disciples to get a large magnificent elephant and four blind men. He then brought the four blind to the elephant and told them to find out what the elephant would "look" like.
The first blind men touched the elephant leg and reported that it "looked" like a pillar. The second blind man touched the elephant tummy and said that an elephant was a wall. The third blind man touched the elephant ear and said that it was a piece of cloth. The fourth blind man hold on to the tail and described the elephant as a piece of rope. And all of them ran into a hot argument about the "appearance" of an elephant.
The Buddha asked the citizens: "Each blind man had touched the elephant but each of them gives a different description of the animal. Which answer is right?"

9. Right and Wrong

When Bankei held his seclusion-weeks of meditation, pupils from many parts of Japan came to attend. During one of these gatherings a pupil was caught stealing. The matter was reported to Bankei with the request that the culprit be expelled. Bankei ignored the case.
Later the pupil was caught in a similar act, and again Bankei disregarded the matter. This angered the other pupils, who drew up a petition asking for the dismissal of the thief, stating that otherwise they would leave in a body.
When Bankei had read the petition he called everyone before him. "You are wise brothers," he told them. "You know what is right and what is not right. You may go somewhere else to study if you wish, but this poor brother does not even know right from wrong. Who will teach him if I do not? I am going to keep him here even if all the rest of you leave."
A torrent of tears cleansed the face of the brother who had stolen. All desire to steal had vanished.

10. Nothing Exists

Yamaoka Tesshu, as a young student of Zen, visited one master after another. He called upon Dokuon of Shokoku.
Desiring to show his attainment, he said: "The mind, Buddha, and sentient beings, after all, do not exist. The true nature of phenomena is emptiness. There is no realization, no delusion, no sage, no mediocrity. There is no giving and nothing to be received."
Dokuon, who was smoking quietly, said nothing. Suddenly he whacked Yamaoka with his bamboo pipe. This made the youth quite angry.
"If nothing exists," inquired Dokuon, "where did this anger come from?"

Bonus 11. Teaching the Ultimate

In early times in Japan, bamboo-and-paper lanterns were used with candles inside. A blind man, visiting a friend one night, was offered a lantern to carry home with him.
"I do not need a lantern," he said. "Darkness or light is all the same to me."
"I know you do not need a lantern to find your way," his friend replied, "but if you don’t have one, someone else may run into you. So you must take it."
The blind man started off with the lantern and before he had walked very far someone ran squarely into him. "Look out where you are going!" he exclaimed to the stranger. "Can’t you see this lantern?"
"Your candle has burned out, brother," replied the stranger.

On futility of arguement... or rather arguements fo futility

My arguments happen to be on very silly and non sensical themes. I argue when someone says the absolute thrash but it is the mainstream opinion. Like the day when they argued on Indian olympics. The argument was like philosphising without reason on both sides. One such incident came to my notice in the web, And I am posting the excerpts from where I read it below.

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4 reasons why R.K. Narayan deserves a memorial

K.C. BELLIAPPA writes: R.K. Narayan is in the news again thanks to the objections raised to a memorial for him by a host of Kannada writers. The fact that many of them are giants in the Kannada literary scene made me sit up and read their press release with utmost care.
..........
The first objection is that R.K.Narayan is not a Kannadiga. This is stating the obvious but we should remember that Narayan is first and foremost an English writer.....................The Kannada writers are unhappy that Narayan sold his manuscripts to an American University and did not donate it to any University in Karnataka. They regard this as injustice to Kannada readers who know English.
I honestly fail to understand their specious logic.
Let me now give the real reason behind this decision. During one of my visits to Narayan’s house in Yadavagiri with Prof C.D. Narasimhaiah, he held forth eloquently on his reason for giving the manuscripts of his novels to Boston University library.
He said:

“CD, if I had given my manuscripts to the government archives, they would have dumped it in some corner where it would have been lying gathering dust and I would have got an acknowledgement on a buff paper. In Boston, they are preserved in air conditioned lockers.”

Of course, he added that he was paid $5,000 for each manuscript. In a manner of speaking, Narayan was a professional writer and looked at his writings wholly from a commercial perspective. I am not too sure whether we can question this premise of his.
***
They further argue that Narayan did not know Kannada well enough except for four or five sentences which he spoke with a mixture of Tamil. I think his Kannada was much better than that and this accusation has to be seen in the context of their opposition to the memorial.
Finally, they are of the view that Narayan’s relatives are selling the house just as Narayan did his manuscripts solely for money. The major burden of their argument is that Narayan as a non-Kannadiga does not deserve a memorial in Mysore and the government of Karnataka should not spend any money over it.
To be honest, I read the press release repeatedly to make sure that they meant what they had said.
I cannot understand how writers, eminent ones at that, could take such a stance.
***
Literature at its basic level teaches us to transcend all differences, be it linguistic, religious, cultural or any other for that matter. If they were genuinely concerned about memorials for other famous Kannada writers, they ought to have raised this issue dispassionately without questioning the decision of the government of Karnataka to build a memorial for Narayan.
R.K. Narayan by virtue of his being a writer in English is a pan-Indian literary figure of international acclaim. He is an eminent Indian English novelist who along with Mulk Raj Anand and Raja Rao was responsible for putting Indian Writing in English on the map of world literature.
He is possibly the most widely translated Indian writer.
I suspect that he was also the bestselling author among Indian writers and should rank as one of the richest among them. Narayan will reign supreme in world literature as far as readability is concerned.
There is a larger question whether governments should spend money on building such memorials for writers. England, for instance, has preserved the house of every writer, for that matter of all artists irrespective of their being considered major or minor in importance.
For the lover of arts, it is bound to be a memorable visit wherein he feels the ambience and the spirit of the place.
Depending on one’s familiarity with the artist, memories will come rushing in and result in an aesthetically satisfying experience. As a matter of fact, this is the nearest that one can come to experiencing the real thing. Surely, there is no substitute for this.
I would like to add that all such houses of writers should be seen as slices of literary heritage and not as pieces of real estate.
Here, I am reminded of what a friend from the fourth estate told me. Apparently, the heirs of a well-known politician of Karnataka demanded a fancy price for the house of their ancestor. When the officer concerned demanded that they offer the house free to the government, they refused. It was clear that they were more interested in the money part of it rather than the desire to perpetuate the memory of their illustrious forefather.
To be fair to Narayan’s relatives, they offered the house for sale as there was no one to stay in it. Only when the demolition of the house began did this become a public issue. Star of Mysore Editor-in-Chief K.B. Ganapathy, an ardent admirer of Narayan’s writings, wrote about the necessity of converting the house into a memorial.
Officials and Ministers responded favourably to this demand and it was officially announced that the government will buy the house and make it into a museum. It is more than a year since this happened and hence it is regrettable that such renowned writers are making an issue of this so belatedly.
(Former vice-chancellor of the Rajiv Gandhi central university in Arunachal Pradesh, Prof K.C. Belliappa is former faculty of the department of English, University of Mysore. This piece originally appeared in Star of Mysore and is republished with kind courtesy)

Our deepest fear

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure about you.
We were born to manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

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Marianne Williamson

Marianne Williamson (born July 8, 1952) is a spiritual activist, author, lecturer and founder of The Peace Alliance, a grass roots campaign supporting legislation currently before Congress to establish a United States Department of Peace. She is also the founder of Project Angel Food, a meals-on-wheels program that serves homebound people with AIDS in theLos Angeles area. She has published ten books, including four New York Times #1 bestsellers.

A passage from Williamson's book, A Return to Love, has become popular as an inspirational quote and has been used, amongst other places, in the 2005 film, Coach Carter and the 2006 film, Akeelah and the Bee. It is often incorrectly attributed to Nelson Mandela; Williamson herself is quoted as saying, "As honored as I would be had President Mandela quoted my words, indeed he did not. I have no idea where that story came from, but I am gratified that the paragraph has come to mean so much to so many people." Williamson has been featured in some films, including The Power of Forgiveness showcased at the Dawn Breakers International Film Festival in 2009 and in the documentary movie "Living Luminaries on the Serious Business of Happiness".

# All info taken from Wiki page on Marianne Williamson

The USB letter

It is that time of the year when business schools all over the country begin to go through the collective voluntary torture that is campus placements. So if you are in business school right now, I guess things are pretty crazy. Chill.

Around this time annually, I usually get a few emails from students seeking advice. Usually it’s career advice— “Should I be doing marketing or banking?”—and sometimes it’s advice on alternatives—“I am convinced I have an exciting book, about non-vegetarian cupcakes, inside me. What should I do?” (My answer to both questions is: “banking”.)

This year I have decided to encapsulate all the advice I have to give, not all of it useful, into one Cubiclenama piece. That way I save you the hassle of writing to me, and I save myself the agony of cutting and pasting the same email to all of you without screwing up the “Dear Babykutty” bit in the beginning.

However, you know how kids are these days. With their short attention spans and their disregard for old-fashioned things. Hence I have decided to make my advice sexy by delivering it roughly to the tune of Baz Luhrman’s popular 1999 single Wear Sunscreen. That song was also targeted at young people and gave them life advice.

But my version is tailored for a mature MBA audience. Imagine it as being delivered by Morgan Freeman to a soft hip-hop-ish background beat.

****

Ladies and gentleman of the MBA class of 2011

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, a good USB memory stick would be it. The long-term benefits of a USB stick have been proved by the number of times people lose laptops, or are suddenly asked to submit resumes on a plane or at a conference. The rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my meandering work experience.

Enjoy your last few days in business school. Chances are you’ve already cynically dismissed the whole bloody place. But trust me, in five years you’ll attend an alumni reunion and realize that business school was perhaps the last place you were both truly intellectually challenged and emotionally excited. Both will happen again. But rarely together.

You are not as smart, or stupid, as you think. Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to make investments based on research reports that will, one day, be written by that same clueless idiot sitting next to you in the canteen right now. The real troubles in your life will never be solved by a presentation or spreadsheet, and will always involve other people. And people are unpredictable sons of bitches.

Spend a little time every day doing nothing.

Listen.

Don’t expect organizations to be as committed to you as you are to them. They don’t work that way. If you do find one that is as committed, never leave.

Jog. (Or walk briskly, or cycle, or do yoga.)

Don’t judge yourself by how much money you make. (And no good comes from knowing who this is.)

Record all the feedback you ever get in your career. Especially the inaccurate, pointless, biased and vague bits that drove you nuts. This will help you when you eventually give feedback to somebody yourself.

Keep a copy of all your old resumes. When you are struck by bouts of existential crisis, flip through them in chronological order. Do the same with resignation letters.

Shave.

Not a lot of people are “meant” to do something. They just say that to sell bad books. Salman Rushdie might make an excellent, and content, supply chain management consultant. Who knows? You will find various amounts of meaning and satisfaction in various things. Choose your compromises wisely.

You’ll like the job a little better if you like the dress code.

Take chances when you’re young, single and don’t have loans to repay. You’ll take larger chances. Large chances are more fun than small ones.

Be nice to people for the heck of it.

Maybe you’ll retire when you’re 45, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll get an Awesome Alumnus Award, maybe you won’t, maybe you will marry your school sweetheart, maybe you won’t. Whatever happens, do not forget those probability lessons they taught you in school. Things tend to even out.

Dance. But keep it classy.

Avoid reading business books. However feel free to write them.

Travel light.

You will most certainly face difficult choices. In most cases it helps to think of what choice maximizes gain, instead of agonizing over what minimizes loss.

Invest in a good suit, pair of shoes and get a shave. Thanks to society’s shallowness, the returns will be considerable.

Calm down.

Let people give you advice. Develop the art of looking interested even if you are not. Pay attention to advice from people who have a stake in your happiness, and not a stake in your success.

Please stop listening to Pink Floyd.

But forget everything else. Quickly go buy that USB stick.

Best of luck.

Conscience

Image via Wikipedia

 "My dear Wife, 

Mr. Davies will tell you what's happening here tonight. He's a good man and has done everything he can for me. I suppose there are some other good men here, too, only they don't seem to realize what they're doing. They're the ones I feel sorry for. 'Cause it'll be over for me in a little while, but they'll have to go on remembering for the rest of their lives. A man just naturally can't take the law into his own hands and hang people without hurtin' everybody in the world, 'cause then he's just not breaking one law but all laws. Law is a lot more than words you put in a book, or judges or lawyers or sheriffs you hire to carry it out. It's everything people ever have found out about justice and what's right and wrong. It's the very conscience of humanity. There can't be any such thing as civilization unless people have a conscience, because if people touch God anywhere, where is it except through their conscience? And what is anybody's conscience 

except a little piece of the conscience of all men that ever lived? I guess that's all I've got to say except kiss the babies for me and God bless you. 

Your husband, Donald." 

I have believed in all that is written in this letter, even before I had seen it being read in the movie, with all the passion and eloquence by Henry Fonda, pictured with all beauty and rawness, something which I imagine will be in Lord of Flies. My work is in legal domain. My colleagues are versed in various aspects of Law. My legal knowledge is limited. I know that it is almost same as it is in engineering, beyond Newton or Faraday, I can't remember anything, and these two - barely. 

What makes me love it is the belief that Man made Law and not vice versa. There is nothing which should stop man from living in a 'law'-less society. It should not, for I cannot say with confidence, be a chaos. Even in chaos, there shall be order.

I have had debates/discussions with a friend of mine, who believes law is above everything. He is right, to an extent. Beyond that, life is ultimate. Rather, Man is ultimate. This is not a platform for debate, nor discussion. I am putting a piece of work, extracted from a beautiful movie, not to support my views, but to put forth what somebody else had thought on the same lines.

Beauty of a Hemingway novel

Beauty of a Hemingway novel is in the simplicity of the characters, and not the language. They are uncomplicated human beings who are as much as primitive as the setting of the novel allows them to be. Is this a conscious effort from the side of the author? Maybe, even then he is does justice to literati. I do not want to read Truman Capote write about an Old Man, though, if he had written about Africa, it would have been altogether different Africa itself. Imagine Africa being analyzed to the last pastel or stroke of a Van Gogh sunflower. It will be good, maybe a bit too poetic, but all the more analytical poetry. This combination is good for completeness of characters, but it leaves a feeling in your mind about either superiority or inferiority towards each character depending on how author wants you to. It doesn’t let you empathize with the character. Hemingway does it in a very different manner.

I never expected The Old Man and the Sea to be a 100 page affair (with font size almost 13). It was in same prosaic style of author. Many are the references to small affairs of men. In fact, this can be considered more chauvinistic work than "The dangerous summer". What comes to its defense is the humility of the Old man. He takes it for granted that the Sea is a woman, and he respects it as a woman, and there ends IT. The way he writes about sea, the weeds, the plankton and the dolphins and the bonito and the sharks all evoke waves in our heart. It will be hard not to close your eyes and imagine rolling on high seas, with not a single human soul to speak to but yet not entirely alone.

Just before it was dark, they were passed a great island of Sargasso weed that heaved and swung in the light sea as though the ocean were making love with something under a yellow blanket….

I have never been taken so forcibly in to scene of a prose as this particular line did to me. I haven’t seen an ocean making love. Nor have I seen a better love making scene being described. Hemingway embraces the idea of Sea being a woman, full blooded, ready to take anything inside her, devour it, but still with a fierceness which could only be defined by the frenzy of love making.

All through the book, you have thoughts of the Old man voiced with simplicity, simplicity in the way he articulates his thoughts, but his thoughts are profound. The thoughts come out in no more than few words, but he thinks profoundly. Old man finds kinship among the birds and animals of the sea. He talks with the bird that sits on his stern, with the fish that steers his boat without his will in the direction of course, and with a multitude of fishes and birds.

Old man, goes by the name Santiago but is never called so in the novel, neither in his youth nor by anyone in the present. It is wonderful to see how the name conjures an image in the mind. What the name Santiago cannot do, Old man does to the reader.

One more reason why this novel is more than a simple story is the portrayal of life described by a simple mind. The comparison of going for a hunt, supposing the game is moon, and thinking further, if it is sun, is the way the primitive mind thinks and why he reveres them as gods. It may not be implicit, but maybe if someone looks at the old Greek or Roman societies, they feared Gods because of their wrath, not as Christians fear God. The fear is based on inability to stand against them. There is an equal respect for the great fish, as a fighter has for his opponent, but nothing stands between them when it comes to KO each other. He does not feel the same against a dolphin, though he admires its beauty. He is a simple man, who thinks after he has acted. It is his nature which makes him do things, nature which had calloused his hands and wrinkled his skin. Still, he lives on knowing that he has to prove each day to the very nature that he still deserves to be in the game.

The kill. Before Santiago gets down to killing him, he starts respecting him. It is not a respect out of faith or religion; it is the respect a man has for another man, or a fish. He thinks that it is either the fish or him, but it doesn’t matter who kills who, because to die at the hands of such a fish is great. That is the oeuvre of Hemingway. He defines manhood as a matter of life, not death. For Hemingway, all men are matadors. The manner in which Santiago drives the harpoon into the heart of the fish while it circled around his boat is just like a matador in the ring. Unfortunately, it is true. A killing is same anywhere, be it in a ring or a battlefield. Death does not happen in slow motion. It happens in a matter of seconds. You are not allowed to think about sin at that time. You are living the nature’s way. Is it a statement in defense of all things deemed cruel by so called civilized society? We remember Hemingway as a person who supported big game hunting and bull fighting. It is in defense or defiance, but the fact remains. He stood by an idea of man which was a relic of the past. It reminds me of a dialogue in the movie Patton...

 The pure warrior... a magnificent anachronism.

We find the Hemingway through his novels. We identify with him through his characters. In the end, it is a journey together, through the snows of Kilimanjaro, across the green hills of Africa, and the wide expanse of the gulf. And that is the beauty of a Hemingway novel.