There is arguably a strong parallel between Hemingway and Santiago surrounding what they viewed as their greatest accomplishments and the “sharks” that diminished them. Before Ernest Hemingway wrote The Old Man and the Sea in 1952, he had written another novel that he believed would be his best yet: Across the River and into the Trees. In an interview with Lillian Ross, a journalist at The New Yorker, Hemingway compared the writing process for this novel to a boxing match: “It was fun to be fifty and about to defend his title again. He had won it in the twenties and defended it in the thirties and forties. Now here he was coming into the ring once more” (Baker 479). Despite having several successful pieces of writing behind him, Hemingway believed that with this novel he was going to outdo himself once more. Santiago discusses having a similar goal in The Old Man and the Sea as he chases the large marlin: “I am not good for many more turns. Yes you are, he told himself. You’re good for ever” (Hemingway 92). Both Hemingway and Santiago have their slight doubts, but they believe that—despite any impediment, including age—they can keep catching their fish and prove themselves time and time again. 

Hemingway boasted about having “won again” with Across the River and into the Trees, claiming that it was even better than his acclaimed A Farewell to Arms (Baker 478). He also asserted that several people who read the finished manuscript of the novel—including Mary (his fourth wife), Aaron Edward (A. E.) Hotchner, and Madame Le Gros (who typed the manuscript)—“were all in tears” by the end of the novel (480). This novel was Hemingway’s marlin: a chance to prove himself as an accomplished writer once more, just as Santiago sought to prove himself as an accomplished fisherman. 

Unfortunately, the marlin was torn apart by sharks. When it was published, Across the River and into the Trees was described by American and British critics as “disappointing, embarrassing, distressing, trivial, tawdry, garrulous, and tired” and—contrary to what Hemingway asserted in his interview with Ross—a “parody of his former style” (Baker 486). He was furious with the critics tearing apart his latest novel, taking the negative reception of his return to writing very personally. It seems plausible that following this unfortunate experience, Hemingway would write a novel where the protagonist, Santiago—who has been yearning to catch this huge fish—finally catches a marlin, just for sharks in the water to mangle it in front of him: “When the fish had been hit it was as though he himself were hit” (Hemingway 103). Hemingway viewed this criticism as an attack on his writing as a whole, and by extension, himself. He blamed the novel’s negative reviews on several scapegoats, one of them being the back cover of the original novel, which had a large photo of himself that he thought to be egregious (Baker 487). Another scapegoat was the profile that Lillian Ross wrote about him.

Lillian Ross’ interviews with Hemingway culminated into a profile of him that was published in May of 1950, prior to the release of his newest novel. In Hemingway’s opinion, Ross presented him as a “horse[’s] ass” (Baker 484). During an interview with Ross, Hemingway had an unfinished manuscript of Across the River and into the Trees with him, and Ross asked him whether he believed this book was different from his other novels: “…[Hemingway] gave me another long, reproachful look. ‘What do you think?’ he said after a moment. ‘You don’t expect me to write The Farewell to Arms Boys in Addis Ababa, do you? Or The Farewell to Arms Boys Take a Gunboat?’” (Ross). Ross including unaltered dialogue of Hemingway in her article resulted in an unflattering depiction of him being made public; this negative image fueled criticism of the writer, one that could have been represented in The Old Man and the Sea—with Ross as the first shark that attacks the marlin. Hemingway describes the appearance of this shark as having teeth “shaped like a man’s fingers when they are crisped like claws,” which could allude to Ross’ fingers as she drafted her infamous article about him (Hemingway 100-101). With her abilities to “charm her subjects,” then write a profile of them that was arguably a “vicious parody,” and—in Hemingway’s eyes—tarnish the author’s image right before his newest novel was published, Ross could have been the first shark in Hemingway’s allegory that ripped open the marlin, leaving a trail of blood that lured other sharks to follow suit (Green). 

Though Hemingway himself has said that there is no symbolism in The Old Man and the Sea (“Sea equaled sea, old man was old man…and the sharks were no better and no worse than other sharks.”), it is hard to ignore the strong parallels between Hemingway and Santiago’s struggles (Baker 505). They both vehemently pursued what they believed would be the pinnacle of their life’s work, despite certain odds being stacked against them, and neither of them won the prizes they sought. But though Hemingway never got to see the critical praise he sought for Across the River and into the Trees, he found that success writing about Santiago enduring a similar struggle with his marlin. Perhaps the real marlin Hemingway sought after was The Old Man and the Sea.