Essay on Short Story : Unbroken / Laura
Unbroken / Laura Hillenbrand
“Not long ago, Louie’s aspirations had ended at whose kitchen he might burgle. Now he latched onto a wildly audacious goal: the 1936 Olympics, in Berlin.” (Hillenbrand 22) When Louie began to lose his need to steal, the dreams of an Olympic runner were born. From this point on, Louie was a hard-working teenager, training and reaching for the goal, though it was a lofty one. Changed from his old criminal ways, Louie begins his life’s journey here.
“When Phil stepped off the plane, he got one chewing out from a colonel. When he flew back to Ephrata, he got another, in stereo, from a colonel and a major. ‘I grew a little older that night, sweet, believe me,’ he wrote to Cece.” (Hillenbrand 66) I’ve been working all summer, and this quote caught my eye because of its relevance to my situation. Not so much from the first couple sentences, but more from the last quote he wrote to Cece. Working with kids all summer has allowed me to realize that experience can age as well as time, trust me. This kind of chewing out was one of the lesser problems Phil would come to face, though, and I can’t begin to imagine how much older he grew as he floated in the raft with Louie and Mac.
“That day in the center of the Pacific was, to him, a gift crafted deliberately, compassionately, for him and Phil.” (Hillenbrand 174) Sitting alone, or with just a couple other people, in silence. A simple enough situation that can lead to…