BOOKBROODER

I also walked upon this sand and foam last year, but I forgot to mention it. I had my hands full at something else I guess! What can I say, It was beautiful and pristine!

A few lines from the text, I hope you appreciate them…

“I am forever walking upon these shores,
Betwixt the sand and the foam,
The high tide will erase my foot-prints,
And the wind will blow away the foam.
But the sea and the Shore will remain
Forever.
Once I filled my hand with mist.
Then I opened it and lo the mist was a worm.
And I closed and opened my hand again, and behold
there was a bird.
And again I closed and opened my hand, and in its
hollow stood a man with a sad face, turned upward.
And again I closed my hand and when I opened it
there was naught but mist.”

“Half of what I say is meaningless but I say it so that the other half may reach you.”

“If Winter says, “spring is in my heart,” who would believe winter?”

“They deem me mad because I will not sell my days for gold;
and I deem them mad because they think my days have a price.”

“Perhaps the sea’s definition of a shell is the Pearl.
Perhaps time’s definition of coal is the Diamond.”

I found that the sand was glossy and the foam was lustrous.
Each and every line of this book was a sort of sorcery for me. Aren’t they?

In the past few days, the weather conditions have been very sharp here. No Sun. Cold. Chilly wind. And I am inside my ‘eiderdown’ posting all my pending reviews on the books. Just random thoughts, indeed. ‘Eiderdown’, this word I found in a Katherine Mansfield story I was reading yesterday. It is a sort of duvet which is made up of soft feathers from the breast of the female eider. But mine is not. I have not seen any eider in my life, It looks British. I am just using the word. You can call it a quilt. A fancy word, ‘continental quilt’ will be fine!

I have read short-short stories of Ray Bradbury, Katherine Mansfield, and Issac Babel, in the past few days. All of them gave my chilled room a sort of cozy air. They all are amazing. Too hot to handle. But today there is bright sun outside. The sky is blue. And whenever this blue color prevails near me and I notice it, I remember one book, and that is The old man and the sea! I don’t know why but when I first read this book five years back, it filled me with cerulean! Whenever you will talk about this book to me, a blue color blind will float in the background inside my head; as a blue portière hung over a door!

That thrill of deepsea fishing, that big game hunting. The spiritual themes of the story enhanced its impact. I read in the introduction of this book that ‘ it is impossible to read this story without believing that in many respects it represents Hemingway’s own ideals of manhood.’

The old man was redoubtable.

“The old man was thin and gaunt with deep wrinkles in the back of his neck.”

There was a strange simplicity in this story, yet its simplicity passed to jolt me out of my present.
And that boy, so innate, so untaught yet very sensible, not at all childish!

“And the best fisherman is you.”
“No. I know others better.”
“Que, va.” the boy said. ” there are many good fishermen and some great ones. But there is only you.”
“Thank you. You make me happy.”

Yes, The boy was right. There was only one like the old man. There was one old man and there was one sea! Hemingway’s writing was too touching and his approach was as easy as falling off a log. But if you like a simple story written extraordinarily well, this is the one.

It is like a medicinal herb. Chew it well and get all the juices!

Glistering Sand and Foam!

It was all blue for me. The old man, The sea!