Book Review: Moby Dick, by Herman Melville

You may be asking yourself: "Moby Dick, eh? Not exactly current fiction, Mr. Blogger."

No, it's not. But if it's good, it should be read. This is a good book. It's a classic ¹.

Published in 1851 (happy 155th anniversary!), Moby Dick is an originally rendered tale told by Ishmael (whose last name we never know...in fact, we never learn the full names of any of the characters), a young veteran of the merchant marines who longs to find work (and a new life) on a whaling vessel. Naturally, his interests take him to Nantucket, Massachusetts, where he finds a ship waiting to sail - the Pequod. With the help of an exotic tattooed harpooner, Queequeg, he hops aboard willingly, despite the warnings of a street prophet regarding the Pequod's captain - Ahab.

Once aboard and sailing, the narrative eventually inverts from the wide-eyed first-person accounts of the opening to third-person, peppered with Ishmael's astute observations - it's clear from this narrative transformation that Ishmael himself becomes subsumed by his experiences at sea aboard the Pequod, obsessed with the details of her crew and captain, and with the object of their profession: whaling.

The problem begins soon after setting sail; Ahab, a remarkably bleak and forceful figure, announces that - contrary to their practical purpose - they have an ultimate quest ahead: to find and kill the White Whale, Moby Dick. This single whale, we learn, is the burning flame which drives the Pequod's captain to "monomaniacal" ends, Moby Dick having claimed Ahab's leg (and perhaps a part of his soul) on a previous voyage.

As the novel proceeds, the reader is consumed by the everyday life of a whaler at sea: the sometimes savage danger, the simple yet sublime pleasures, and the technologies of the day. Everyone from the sail-mast lookout to the blacksmith, from the cook to the boatsmen who trawl for prey - whales, and most importantly, their precious oil - are drawn in colourful detail. Readers expecting a fast-moving plot line should note that Moby Dick takes great pains to paint the seafarer's life, specifically the dying years of the whaling industry (at least as it existed in its heyday); as such the novel has its peaks and valleys as regards pacing. I refuse to take the "this is an old book so you have to disregard its old style" stance - though it's a masterpiece, its strengths will only be rewarding to those with a little patience.

Moby Dick is probably one of the best-written novels I've read. Melville is a writer's writer; he loves language and is very particular about how he describes the life of his characters without it becoming an academic exercise, nor are the allegorical elements cryptically depicted so as to make reading it in a non-allegorical frame of mind impossible. Take any of Ahab's monologues and read it aloud: you will instantly notice the cadence and perfect shape of the sentences - it's like hearing Shakespeare. The book is rife with symbolism: the ship is the world, the crew its people. Moby Dick itself becomes a symbol of the capricious result of the burgeoning 20th-century-man's fateful need to conquer nature.

I would like to point out that I read the paperback edition, published by Oxford University Press (pictured above). I mention this in particular for two reasons: it's cheap (500+ pages = $10!), and it comes with a handy reference guide at the back to clarify any directly symbolic (Biblical or simply antiquarian) references in the text. Also, there is an Introduction (written by Tony Tanner) which, after you've read the novel ², will give you some insight into some of the mainstream analyses of the book. There is also a set of letters Melville wrote to Nathaniel Hawthorne (to whom the novel was dedicated) at the back of this edition - can't say there's anything relevatory there, other than the fact that Melville clearly idolised Hawthorne.

Moby Dick is available for sale at a fine independent bookstore near you and online at...Powell's, Amazon, Chapters, and others. Published by Oxford University Press (ISBN: 0192833855)

1. I don't mean "It's a classic." in the sense that, because everyone calls certain books "classics" that they must always be superior. Some "classics" do not age well. This is not one of those.

2. This is my guide to reading "classic" books: by all means avoid anything written by someone other than the original author until after you've read the book, whether it be an introduction, a foreword, a preface, what have you. Most introductions are academic in nature and worse, full of spoilers. Stanislaw Lem wrote a book, inspired by his distaste for these after-the-fact literary addons. It's called Imaginary Magnitude.

Oh, right - the world

If I've relented from espousing opinions on the world lately, it's because of two things (primarily):

1. The world is nuts.


2. Too many people are trying to make sense of #1

Let me qualify this...well, actually no. No, I don't think it's necessary to qualify either of these. This isn't a formal academic essay.

Ludwig Wittgenstein, whose work I've found myself inexplicably drawn to lately, believed that the role of philosophy wasn't to change the world, but rather to articulate it ¹. I've played with this aphorism for quite a while, objectively and personally; while not conclusive, I suspect it applies to more than just philosophy.

Music, calculus, meditation...essentially, the Big Three ² : Art, Science, and Religion.

I suppose what I'm getting at (as I type this on borrowed time, with little sleep, on an old laptop, knowing that at any minute someone's going to drop the proverbial Anvil of Stress on my head) is that rather than having a Romantic notion that the world needs to be changed, perhaps we should focus primarily on expressing what exactly it is first, unwieldy though it may be. We can't even start to explain what the world is (and thus, life) without starting from the beginning: how we individually see it, how we individually live our lives, and the extent to which our individual morals and ethics weigh our actions. Let's face it, if we can't articulate these foundational (and certainly more practical) questions then the world, try as we might to change it, will most likely turn and laugh in our face...or just walk by, carrying shopping bags, without looking (in Toronto, anyway).

Instead of trying to ram our passions down the throats of others ³ in the (rather selfish) hope that everyone's life will change as a result of our unbottled wisdom, what if we changed our approach? What if, instead of proselytizing, we simply worked on articulating ourselves as well as possible (as if that wasn't formidable enough)? I would argue that a well-conceived, original articulation of an individual point of view would have a much better chance of affecting our environment in the long term than all the thunder and plunder of what essentially boils down to a Crusade To Make The World Understand The Way [place name here] Sees It.

It's funny that, when the emphasis of our philosophical passions are changed from "tell it like it is" to "tell your story well", you wind up with less fire and brimstone (ie outrage) and a greater sense of awareness.

1. Michael Dummet, "Vagueness: A Reader", Edited by Rosanna Keefe and Peter Smith, (essay: Wang's paradox, pg.100), MIT Press 2002

2. (articulated previously here)

3. (boy, could this sentence be misconstrued)

Photo: #9 (Jax Beach Reflected)

...and that was the summer

Summer '06, we hardly knew thee.

Actually, I'm lying. I vividly recall it: hot, humid, and busy. Regarding the latter, you will probably note that I've not been posting much lately. This is due to ending my full-time position and going freelance; I have so much to wrap up by Friday, it makes my head spin thinking about it...and then I start another production next week.

However, blog content is coming. Just as air molecules oscillate between compression and rarefaction, it is during those periods where I'm not blogging that I'm able to source the features, take the photos, read the books, and live a life that will inevitably find itself reflected here.

I should make a t-shirt that reads:

I'm not prodigous, just quality-conscious.

Doesn't really have a zing to it though. *sigh* Another project to tinker with...