Story Skeleton—The Old Man and the Sea

Story structure relates to the psychological appeal of narrative, that which engages readers and builds in them a sense of anticipation—a desire to know what happens next. This blog series is meant to demonstrate the universality of story structure with plot breakdowns of award-winning and classic novels.

By Michelle Barker 

An old man, the sea; what could be simpler?

Reading Hemingway makes me think of a game a friend of mine once played when he crossed the border to visit his brother in the US: the game was to use the fewest words possible with the border guards to get his point across. It almost got him arrested—but it works for Hemingway. 

The hallmark of Hemingway’s writing is spareness and simplicity, and yet he still manages to convey deep emotion and create connection with his characters as well as delivering a novella that is brimming with symbolism. Why? Partly because he uses the right words but also because he gives the reader space to think. His writing is, like haiku, all about juxtaposition. Put things side by side and allow the reader to make the connections. 

If you believe the CIA, this was Saddam Hussein’s favorite book because it’s all about persevering despite the odds and not being defeated. In fact, this was Hemingway’s last published major work of fiction. The fact that it’s about having faith and not giving up becomes tragically ironic in the face of his eventual suicide.

I once caught a fish this big

The Old Man and the Sea originated as a story passed down by fisherman for decades. Who knows how big the marlin really was originally, or if there even was one? Hemingway first wrote it as a magazine piece and then decided to turn it into a novella. But he was also a fisherman himself, and that comes through in the authenticity of every tiny detail aboard the skiff. 

The novella was published to rave reviews and won a Pulitzer, though critics have since soured somewhat on the book’s merits. Is it an allegory about writing? About religion? Is it a story about companionship and loneliness? Or is it exactly what it looks like: a tale about a man, a boy, and a fish? 

My answer to all of the above is: yes. This novella can be read in so many ways, it is guaranteed to satisfy English teachers for centuries. But I think what it’s really about is opposing forces: life and death, companionship and loneliness, youth and age. Santiago references an arm-wrestling competition at midpoint, which reinforces the story’s guiding rhythm of push and pull. 

But let’s start with structure.

Narrative goal

The narrative goal is deceptively simple. An old man, Santiago, has gone eighty-four days without a catch. He has very little food or money left. This is a question of survival. Catch something or starve. The goal is clear, the stakes are high. 

And he does catch something. And then he loses it. 

It seems like this should be a man versus nature story, but Santiago’s thoughts about not only the marlin but also the sea and other wildlife emphasize that nature is not his adversary. Even the sharks that eat the marlin are only doing what sharks do. Santiago is the protagonist of the story, and even while he tries to catch the marlin, he speaks of the fish as his brother. He knows his place in the circle of life. He is old, but Manolin who adores him and helps him is young, suggesting Manolin will eventually take his place in that circle. 

But the antagonist is also Santiago. He works against himself, his limitations, the challenge of sustaining pain and not surrendering to it. Throughout his time on the boat, he talks to himself, by turns encouraging and berating himself while he tries to hold onto the marlin. He even talks to his one uncooperative hand that seems to be betraying him when he needs it most. 

PLOT POINTS

The novella takes place over five days and demonstrates the power not only of a strong and clear narrative goal but also of a contained and limited setting.

Stasis

After enduring eighty-four days without a fish, Santiago is determined to break his streak of bad luck and on the eighty-fifth day he decides to sail out farther than the other skiffs to catch a big one. His stasis motivation is to catch a fish. Any fish will do.

Inciting Incident

After sailing beyond all the other boats, he snags a huge marlin on one of his lines. His narrative goal takes shape: he will best this giant fish and bring it home.

Point of No Return

Santiago decides to let the fish pull him far out to sea instead of trying to break free or turn back. This decision, made as he realizes the fish’s immense strength and determination, commits him fully to the struggle.

Rising Action

The marlin doesn’t make this easy for Santiago. If the old man is going to hold onto the fish, he will have to use all his strength, skill, and determination. 

He catches a tuna, which he eats to keep up his strength. A warbler lands on the fishing line and Santiago speaks to it. The marlin suddenly jumps, and he realizes it’s the biggest fish he’s ever seen.

Midpoint

It is at the midpoint that Santiago remembers the all-night arm-wrestling competition he won in a final burst of strength when he was younger. This doesn’t seem like a significant plot point, but Hemingway puts it here for a reason: in terms of the rhythms of the story it is key. Up to now, the story has focused on Santiago being pulled by the marlin. But that is about to shift.

Rising Action

The waiting game is over; now the old man must call on that final burst of strength to defeat his prey. The marlin jumps out of the water repeatedly, until Santiago is finally able to harpoon it.

False Victory

He has caught the biggest fish of his life. He lashes it to the side of the boat and begins the long journey back to land. His hands are cut up and he is exhausted, but he will make a lot of money from this fish.

Tragic Climax

And then the sharks come. Hemingway makes an interesting shift here. Up to now, Santiago has felt a kinship with the animals. Even though he was trying to catch (and kill) the marlin, he respects it and even humanizes it. But the sharks are different. They are aggressive, like blunt weapons, and the marlin becomes less noble and more like meat. Santiago apologizes to the marlin for having caught it, having been too proud and gone out too far. 

By the time he arrives back in the harbor, the sharks have devoured the marlin and nothing of it remains except the tail, its backbone, the spear, and the head which later gets chopped up to use in fish traps. Santiago carries his mast up the hill (very much like Christ with the cross), “destroyed but not defeated.”

Resolution

Santiago returns to his shack and goes to sleep. Manolin is overjoyed to see he’s alive and promises to work with him again on his boat. Even though his parents had forbidden him from working with the old man because he was unlucky, Manolin decides from now on he will bring the luck.

Hemingway suggests that the boy returns out of both loyalty and admiration for the old man—but also out of love. Manolin thought the old man had died at sea and is overwhelmed by emotion to find him safely returned. 

While traditionally, Manolin’s name (like Santiago’s) has been given a Christian interpretation (Manolin➡️Manuel➡️Immanuel, which means “God is with us”), it can also be seen as a Spanish diminutive of the word mano, or hand. Santiago’s hands are injured in his battle with the marlin. Manolin returns to become Santiago’s hands. 

At the very end, the POV shifts, and two strangers mistake the marlin skeleton for that of a shark. 

The final image is of Santiago dreaming about lions.

Yes, lions

The lions show up three times in the book—once near the beginning, once at midpoint, and once at the end. Lions are predators, but the ones in Santiago’s dreams play on the shores of a beach in Africa. They are young, and they remind him of his youth and give him both strength and hope. But this is also a novella about opposing forces, and the lions—predators that are playful—represent a union of these forces.

An allegory of the writer’s life?

Eighty-four days without a catch was also the essence of Hemingway’s professional situation. He hadn’t had a successful book in over a decade. Critics thought he was done. The story can be read as an allegory of his writing career. This is a question of survival, but it’s also a question of pride—and luck. The eighty-fifth day will surely be the lucky one, i.e., if I light that candle and recite this incantation to the muse, I will get the next big idea. 

Luck is an interesting theme in the story because everything about it is random. What does the number eighty-five signify? About the same as a row of sharpened pencils. Nothing. Santiago used to be lucky—just like Hemingway—until he wasn’t. And then he caught the marlin, and his luck returned. And then he lost it, and there went his luck. It’s a query-rejection-acceptance-rejection pattern that should be familiar to most writers. 

Santiago sacrifices everything by going out farther than any of the other fishermen. He’s going to catch the big idea. The sea, the deep unconscious, is where those ideas hide. He’s spent years honing his skill. He knows how to reel it in, get it under control. He knows how to suffer for a cause. 

And he catches it—and then critics attack the shit out of it until all that’s left are the bones. And the author has ended up sacrificing everything (like the Christ figure at the end) and what do they have? The faith that they did their best, that they weren’t defeated (though in Hemingway’s case, that’s debatable). And quite possibly, strangers who totally misunderstand what they were trying to do.

Push and pull

This is essential to the rhythm of the novella, not only in the catching of the fish but also thematically: loneliness versus companionship, death versus life, old age versus youth, the tide, eating and being eaten, predator and prey. 

Technically, Santiago is alone out at sea and yet he also says no one is alone at sea. He’s connected to the fish, the birds, the sea itself which he characterizes as a woman. But he is also lonely. He repeats several times that he wishes the boy were there. He doesn’t have the boy to talk to anymore, so he talks to himself, to the fish, to the warbler that lands on the boat. He even talks to his injured hand. 

In one sense, Santiago is defeated by the sharks. His patched sail is “a flag of permanent defeat.” But his eyes are “undefeated,” and when Manolin comes to see him they decide to fish together again. 

Nature has this duality as well. It is benevolent and it is harsh. The tuna and dolphin are nourishment to Santiago, but then the sharks come—and the marlin nourishes them. 

Why is The Old Man and the Sea a classic?

There are so many ways to interpret this story, so many things to see in it, but above all there is Santiago— dignified and endearing— a man who persists despite the odds. Hemingway conveys a powerful character and a rich story in spare, simple prose that is layered with meaning. It’s the sort of book you can reread at different times in your life and come away with a new understanding of it every time.

Michelle Barker is an award-winning author and poet. Her most recent publication, co-authored with David Brown, is Immersion and Emotion: The Two Pillars of Storytelling. Her fiction, non-fiction, and poetry have appeared in literary reviews worldwide. She has published three YA novels (one fantasy and two historical fiction), a historical picture book, and a chapbook of poetry. Michelle holds a BA in English literature (UBC) and an MFA in creative writing (UBC). Many of the writers she’s worked with have gone on to win publishing contracts and honours for their work. Michelle lives and writes in Vancouver, Canada.