The Cruel Sea (Penguin World War II Collection)

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Can’t be soon enough for me, sir. Proper uproar, this is. A lot of the lads wish they’d joined the Army instead.” Now that I’ve got your attention, let me say that The Cruel Sea is not the greatest war novel of all time.

If my ship were going down, and I had that one last moment to grab a treasured something, my copy of the book, THE CRUEL SEA by Nicholas Monsarrat might well be what I choose. (That is supposing I already had my life vest on.) This book has affected my life deeply since I first came across it as a teenager. It is why I joined the US Navy. (where I ironically ended up in the submarine service.) It formed an invaluable step in teaching me what `duty' meant, and `honor.' It is therefore a bit more difficult for me to judge this motion picture than most. Were it horrid, I should still love it, I suppose. Fortunately it is not horrid. `The Cruel Sea is in fact first rate.There is also a moment when the Compass Rose discovers a lifeboat floating alone on the sea, a single dead man inside, sitting at the rudder: Ericson ripped open the envelope, and read slowly and carefully. It was what he had been waiting for.

H.M.S. Compass Rose: Reports on Officers,” wrote the Admiral, and referred again to his notes. “Lieutenant-Commander George Eastwood Ericson, R.N.R.: Commanding Officer. This officer exhibited a high standard of seamanship, and showed himself expert at ship-handling. I judged him to be a conscientious and determined officer who, when he has gained more experience in this new class of ship, will extract everything possible out of his command. His relations with his subordinate officers appeared satisfactory, and it was clear that he inspired their confidence and would be followed by them without hesitation. Ireland comes in for a lambasting; the country is potrayed as contemptible for remaining neutral and benefiting from the vital food and other supplies from North America, guarded by the Royal Navy, whilst at the same time allowing the Nazis to run an espionage base on their territory. This novel brings those men to life. It feels so real, you can almost feel the cold winds of the North Atlantic, almost feel the exhaustion, almost feel the drudgery and misery of convoy escort duty.I listened to this in Swedish read by Tore Bengtsson. It was clearly read and not hard to follow, but the tone put me off. It felt like it was a man reading for other men. This is kind of hard to explain, but it is the definite feeling I get. Men in the company of other men speak this way. Add the presence of women and the tone changes. The narration I have given three stars. Today's economic participants are perpetually at sea and failure may very well be a sort of virtual death. Our livelihood, which is often synonymous with life itself, can be stolen by seemingly inhuman forces, which are easily hated. Our home ports are but a fleeting reprieve, sometimes despised for the temporary shelter that they represent. And we are constantly cast adrift, at sea, at war, again and again.

He loved the sea, though not blindly: it was the cynical, self-contemptuous love of a man for a mistress whom he distrusts profoundly but cannot do without. This book focuses on humans that are thrown into war from their peacetime lives. Accountants, bankers, journalists, cargo ship captains, pension seeking peacetime sailors, are all placed in a war that they, as individuals, had very little to do with its inception. From there, the changes in the characters are illustrated through the most extreme of circumstances and the ever-accumulating risk associated with time. Decisions are made and sacrifices are suffered. The enemy becomes transformed from humans with differing points of view into mere objects of resistance: worthy of a hatred that can only be bestowed upon the most inhuman of threats. And the defenders are transformed into machines that are virtually unaware of the hatred that they display.

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Halliwell's Film Guide described the film as a "competent transcription of a bestselling book, cleanly produced and acted". [19] See also [ edit ] The Cruel Sea by Nicholas Monsarrat is fiction, but it is based on the author’s own WW2 experiences. For four years, he was stationed in the Atlantic, serving on corvettes and on a frigate. This shows. It is clearly evident that the author writes about what he knows and has experienced firsthand.

The Cruel Sea". The Australian Women's Weekly. 20 May 1953. p.37. Archived from the original on 29 March 2021 . Retrieved 22 July 2012– via National Library of Australia. The First Lieutenant used an expression which is novel to me,” he began. “I wish you’d explain what it means.” Vagg, Stephen (27 July 2019). "Unsung Aussie Filmmakers: Don Sharp – A Top 25". Filmink. Archived from the original on 2 August 2020 . Retrieved 14 February 2020. They surfaced in secret places, betraying themselves and their frustrated plans: they rose within sight of land, they rose far away in mortal waters, where on the map of the battle, the crosses that were the sunken ships were etched so many and so close that the ink ran together. They surfaced above their handiwork, in hatred or in fear, sometimes snarling their continued rage, sometimes accepting thankfully a truce they had never offered to other ships, other sailors. Monsarrat's first three novels, published in 1934–1937 and now out of print, were realistic treatments of modern social problems informed by his leftist politics. His fourth novel and first major work, This Is The Schoolroom, took a different approach. The story of a young, idealistic, aspiring writer coming to grips with the "real world" for the first time, it is at least partly autobiographical.He was tired — he could not remember ever having been so tired — but he knew that he was not loo tired: there were always reserves. . . . It was part of the job of being captain, the reverse side of the prestige and the respect and the saluting: the tiny ship, the inexperienced officers, the unbelievable weather— he had taken these on as well, and they would not defeat him. So he dealt with everything that came, assuming all cares out of an overflowing strength; he was a professional — the only one among amateurs who might in the future become considerable assets to him but at the moment were not very much help—and the professional job, at sea, was not without its rewarding pride. It had to be done, anyway: he was the man to do it, and there was no choice and no two answers. To tell this tale, Monsarrat utilizes an omniscient third-person narrator, reminiscent of Len Deighton’s Bomber (another great and underrated war novel). It is a godlike point of view that allows him to give us the perspective and thoughts of each and every character. I found the tone to be utterly fascinating. The narrative feels like the observations of a god who can see everything at once, but cannot intervene. The writing is dispassionate, but not indifferent. Monsarrat is able to create incredible emotional force by remaining a bit detached, by describing what is happening without directing you how to feel. In a later portion of the book the captain and the first officer become much more the focus and center of the action as the nature of the war has evolved as these two officer note with regret. The familial nature of the ship's crew is altered and the men become more like inanimate parts of an efficient fighting machine bent on the destruction of their enemy. The way the author portrays this evolution of sensitive, humanistic, beings into men that suppress feelings, are unmoved by suffering and death even of their friends and loved ones is quite compelling but there is more. Daylight,” said Morell suddenly, breaking the oppressive silence on the bridge. “Two more hours to wait.”