老人与海

Ernest Hemingway, a profound philosopher born in Chicago, USA. He was influenced by his parents when he was young. His father loved fishing and the sea. Mother love literature, love life. Hemingway loved it too, and in middle age, at the height of his literary attainment, he wrote the novella The Old Man and the Sea It was after World War II. Hemingway joined the American Red Cross Field Service and served on the Italian battlefield. Although he just wanted to feel the war, he also paid a heavy price for it - numerous wounds embedded with shrapnel, and the bitter memories of the war, he began to deny the good life. After the end of World War II, Hemingway returned to his hometown, he came to the sea, he opened his arms, he looked up at the sky at the same time and closed his eyes, he seems to no longer simply think that the sky is always blue, the air will never have the breath of weapons. When he opened his eyes again, he had already picked up his pen. Sitting quietly in front of the table, Hemingway, the mind of his father fishing scene -- such a picture, is very beautiful, there is no war smoke, there is no people crying. We are all happy, trying to work hard for the family. But at the moment, the world seems to have changed, and the people inside it need to do something about it. Hemingway chose to move to Cuba in search of a new life. He became acquainted with Fuentes, an old fisherman. Once, Hemingway's boat sank in a storm, and Fuentes rescued Hemingway. From then on, Hemingway and Fuentes formed a deep friendship, and often went fishing together. Fuentes went out a long way to catch a big fish, but the fish was so big that it dragged out to sea for a long time. On the return trip, he was attacked by a shark and came back with only a skeleton left. Hemingway, an observant of life, thought it would make a good story. Thus, full of hope and strong Santiago was born. He has been an old man since birth, an old man who loves fishing but never catches. As Hemingway wrote, "Old fisherman Santiago went 84 days without catching a fish at sea. At first a boy named Manolin went out with him, but after forty days he had not caught any fish, so his parents put him on another boat, because they thought it would be bad luck for him to be with the old man." Hemingway was wise not to let the story go on forever. San Diego finally hooked a big fish on the eighty-fifth day, but after two days of dealing with the fish, he was snatched by a shark. Santiago's eyes began to have a tired, but not depressed, "a man is not born to be defeated, you can eliminate him, but he is not defeated." This is Santiago's life belief, also Hemingway's spirit. Hemingway is good at using symbolism to describe all kinds of image, the same things repeatedly the shark, it represents the dark forces, and starting from the age of five is living with the old fisherman's manolin, has a backbone and a strong sense of responsibility, and this is the foil from the side of San Diego, manolin also represents such a spirit, will be passed from generation to generation. "The Old Man and the Sea" is worthy of people's appreciation, Hemingway can write such a philosophical work in such a period, not only is the portrayal of the spirit, but also the bottom of my heart desire. He hoped everything would be fine, but life didn't. Santiago also understood, so he treated the consecutive days of no fish attitude, cool and confident. I love Santiago. I love his confidence. Because confidence has always been hard to come by for me. Tired from his life of fishing, Santiago went to the ocean for the last time at dusk. The lazy sun shone and the sound of the sea was quiet. Nearby, the seagulls began to flock back to their nests and chase each other by daylight. He turned to me with his bright blue eyes, waved, tossed his net and told me in a low, tired voice: "It's time to go home again, no fish today, but it doesn't matter, sometime, sometime. Today, I did my best." He turned away with a smile that looked kind and reassuring. I watched his bent body gradually buried in the sea, buried by the setting sun, and I looked around again. The seagull had not yet flown away, swirling in the direction of the old fisherman. It seems particularly nostalgic for today's San Diego. All this is so beautiful, listening to the sound of seagulls, listening to the sea, I reluctantly turned around, looking at the real world of me, looking at the last pages of "the old man and the sea", looking at the old man away from the figure, he really tired, like Hemingway, need to rest. The moment Santiago turned around, I knew the story was over. But Hemingway still told me, through those thin pages, never say die.