Sterling Hayden (1916–1986)

I first read this book in high school and it altered my life for the better in more ways than I can count. No, I never bought a schooner and sailed the South Seas. But I did become a writer, and a self-examining and (I hope) more honest one as a result of reading this book. But beyond that is the magic of a life adventurously lived and splendidly told. I have read Wanderer more times than I can count, and each time I am left in awe at Hayden's brutal and ferocious honesty about himself and at his magnificent way with words. It is my favorite book. I hope to read it again several times.… (plus d'informations)

I'm not sure whether I love Sterling Hayden or hate him. I most certainly am confused by him, and yet I feel I understand him at the same time. Just wrapping up Wanderer, his 1963 autobiography, and found it was exciting and exasperating at the time. I started reading the actor's life story because I was interested in his sailing exploits. I got far more than I bargained for. From growing up in a broken home, running away to sea at 16, captaining his own ship by 22, becoming one of Hollywood's "it" stars, joining the Army/Coast Guard/Marine Corps (yes, all three) during WW II, and wandering on a voyage of a lifetime to Tahiti with his children, the book was exhausting. His stream-of-consciousness style took a bit to get used to, as did his time hopping throughout the narrative.

Did I get as much nautical stuff out of it as I wanted? No. Did I learn a lot about the man and what makes him tick? Yes. Did I learn a lot about myself in the process? Absolutely. This book makes you think.

One passage did stand out. Early in the book (Chapter 5), Hayden presents his treatise on voyaging. It is possibly the most inspirational thing I've ever read:

"To be truly challenging, a voyage, like a life, must rest on a firm foundation of financial unrest. Otherwise you are dimmed to a routine traverse, the kind known to yachtsmen who play with their boats at sea--'cruising,' it is called. Voyaging belongs to the seamen, and to the wanderers of the world who cannot, or will not, fit in. If you are contemplating a voyage and you have the means, abandon the venture until your fortunes change. Only then will you know what the sea is all about.

“'I’ve always wanted to sail to the south seas, but I can’t afford it.' What these men can’t afford is not to go. They are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline of 'security.' And in the worship of security we fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine--and before we know it our lives are gone.

"What does a man really need--really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in--and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That’s all--in the material sense. And we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention from the sheer idiocy of the charade.

"The years thunder by. The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed.

"Where, then, lies the answer? In choice. Which shall it be: bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life?"

Recommend this book? Absolutely. Take it in small doses. Only dive in when you have lots of time to think. I guarantee it will make you question your perspective.… (plus d'informations)

Voyage is a giant of a novel that works hard to say some very profound things about America at the end of the 19th century and, by implication, about America in the 1970s (and even in the present). Mainly this works, but there are a few longueurs where the polemic shoulders its way to the front and we lose some of the narrative drive. This is an important book written by someone who knew about and cared deeply about the world of the merchant sailor and presents an unblinking picture of life at sea at this time.

We follow two long simultaneous sea voyages. The first and most prominent is the maiden voyage of the Neptune's Car, a steel-hulled sailing ship, from New England to San Francisco with a cargo of coal. Written from the points of view of the Captain and the crew we see how hard, arbitrary and ruthless life was on these ships and how casual tyranny and an indifference to the working man's lot caused unnecessary suffering and drove a wedge between worker and management that ultimately destroyed the effectiveness of their endeavours. The second voyage, much more sketchily drawn (perhaps because this was a world the author did not experience or want to enjoy), describes a return cruise across the Pacific from San Francisco to Japan, part honeymoon, part private scientific expedition, part rich idlers' extravaganza, and is used mainly as a counterpoint to the Neptune's Car.

The professional sailors are sympathetically drawn and their own internal rough justice never down-played. As the horrors of their voyage grow they plot the downfall of their Captain and the ship's owner (recognising that the Captain is ultimately only an employee). As they arrive in San Francisco most of the crew immediately forget their complaints as they are paid off and dive into the fleshpots of the city. A small group decide to act.

Sterling Hayden started out a professional sailor, fell into acting where he spent twenty years making a raft of generally well-received movies, dropped out in the 1960s and returned to acting in the 1970s through to his death in 1986. He spent World War II as a sailor for the OSS working primarily behind enemy lines in the Mediterranean theatre.… (plus d'informations)