Saints and Sinners in the Caribbean: The Case for Islands in the Stream

SAINTS AND SINNERS IN THE CARIBBEAN: THE CASE FOR ISLANDS IN THE STREAM G. R. Wilson, Jr. University of South Alabama The critical reception accorded Ernest Hemingway's first posthumous novel, Islands in the Stream, has generally seen it as inferior to the rest of the canon. Certainly, the early reviewers reflected this attitude.1 Only Edmund Wilson, usually a perceptive Hemingway reader, remarked , in concluding a generally unfavorable review, that "in the long run, the book will appear to be more important than seems to be the case now."2 Alleged flaws include structural weakness, problems of pace, unbelievable plot elements, and failure to explain the dreadful depression of the book's protagonist. These are basic critical concerns, the consideration of which requires a close reading of Islands with particular attention to its structure and to the way in which Hemingway has deployed his symbolic meanings. While explicating the text is revealing, further illumination can be found in the composition history of the novel. According to Carlos Baker, Hemingway developed the substance of Islands in the Stream as part of an overall schema that included The Old Man and the Sea.3 The two books share an authorial vision that finds major symbols in the sea, the Gulf Stream, the islands of the Caribbean, and the creatures of that ocean world; they are clearly parts of a single conception in Hemingway's mind. Consequently, understanding Thomas Hudson's story begins with understanding its relationship to Santiago's epic narrative. In shaping his heroic old fisherman on a framework of Christian symbology, Hemingway creates an image of man and his relationship to his world that transcends his earlier protagonists, like Harry Morgan, who struggle and die alienated in a hostile, meaningless universe. By contrast, Santiago triumphs by being an intrinsic part of a coherently meaningful universe. In his commitment to the values of his world, he finds the faith that sustains him throughout his ordeal and leads him to his symbolic victory. Santiago's faith is founded in an intimate knowledge of his world, but, ultimately, he has faith in man's heroic nature and consequently in himself, although his heroism is tempered by a saintly humility. Clearly, Santiago represents a Hemingway ideal couched in Christian terms.4 In this context, both the structure and theme of Islands in the Stream are inversions of those in The Old Man and the Sea. Structurally, during Santiago's three-day trial, he first conducts a patient sea hunt for his quarry, then battles his huge marlin, and finally struggles against the marauding, invading sharks. The similar events in 28G. R. Wilson, Jr. Islands occur in reverse order: first, the giant hammerhead shark invades the beneficent reef world; next, David battles the huge broadbilled swordfish ; and, finally, Hudson patiently seeks his quarry, the German U-boat crew. Thematically, the novel is also precisely opposite to the novella. Whereas Santiago triumphs through faith, Thomas Hudson fails through despair. In one of the most perceptive commentaries yet to appear on Islands, Douglass Boiling, rejecting the need for an explanation of Hudson 's deep depression, recognizes that the book's "true subject . . . is . . . the workings of a deep-seated anxiety (one is tempted here to invoke the notion of Angst) on a protagonist."5 The point, drawn from the comparison with Santiago, is that Thomas Hudson is suffering not just the deep-seated anxiety and existential emptiness found by Boiling but is rather living in spiritual despair, the greatest of all Christian sins because it denies faith, indeed, the very possibility of faith. In developing his protagonist , Hemingway depicts a figure isolated from his world and its spiritual resources, the darkness of whose existence is emphasized by its strong contrast with the brightly illuminated figure of the saintly Santiago. In pace, too, the books differ markedly. Santiago's story is unified and progressive, unfolding in a single long narrative building steadily from exposition to climax to resolution. The structure of Islands is not that simple. Its action does not develop progressively but is, by contrast, peristaltic, advancing and retreating, rising only to fall off into a static or reminiscent interlude before rising again. This pattern can...