When I was around ten years old my dad handed me this book. Looking back on it, I'm not too sure why he did so. 
 This is what I remember: I heard the word "motherfucker" for the first time, and reflected that it's one hell of a curse word. I became engrossed in the truth and real journalism in this novel--it made me realize the mysteries of the world and the great depths of the sea. Mostly, though, I remember loving the men and their devotion to this wreck. I remember them perservering through it all to try to uncover the truth about something they had fallen in love with, in a way. 
 I guess he had wanted to entertain me while I was stuck with him at his office the whole day. Maybe he wanted to teach me a lesson about dedication and freindship. Maybe he wanted to teach me about my Jewish heritage and submarines and warfare and such, somehow. 
 I remember loving this book and not putting it down until I was finished. Mostly, though, I just remember asking my dad what a motherfucker was, hah!