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3.4 AVERAGE
3.4 AVERAGE
I know this is a classic, and at the time it was written, the history of ships and whaling, and the biology of whales was likely unknown to the readers, but wow does it make for a long and boring story. I ended up listening to it because I fell asleep when actually reading it. But, it’s a classic, so I’ll bump it up a star
adventurous
tense
slow-paced
I feel like I need a book trophy. What a tome! So first---the prose and writing in this book is phenomenal. I see why it's stood the test of time. The percentage of the book that was actual STORY was very immersive. Adventure story prototype, 100%.
HOWEVER, all the WHALE BIOLOGY. I felt like Bubba Gump in Forrest Gump. Shrimp salad, shrimp shish kabob, boiled shrimp, broiled shrimp, fried shrimp, and on and on and ON. Whale anatomy, whale skinning, whale beheading, whale EYES, whale whale whale whale. It was just such an odd technical juxtaposition to the rest of the book and bored me to tears.
Overall, I enjoyed Ahab's obsession, Ishmael's narration, and the overall story arch (though I did find the ending abrupt).
HOWEVER, all the WHALE BIOLOGY. I felt like Bubba Gump in Forrest Gump. Shrimp salad, shrimp shish kabob, boiled shrimp, broiled shrimp, fried shrimp, and on and on and ON. Whale anatomy, whale skinning, whale beheading, whale EYES, whale whale whale whale. It was just such an odd technical juxtaposition to the rest of the book and bored me to tears.
Overall, I enjoyed Ahab's obsession, Ishmael's narration, and the overall story arch (though I did find the ending abrupt).
adventurous
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
"¡Muerte a Moby Dick! ¡Que Dios nos persiga si no perseguimos a Moby Dick hasta conseguir su muerte!".
This is the perfect 3 stars book. As in, it has lots of positives but also some negatives.
The positives being the prose, the originality of language, the playfulness that Melville has with the English language. The sheer number of literary subgenres presents makes most chapters interesting to read by themselves, regardless of their content and value for the prosecution of the book. Even the "boring" parts about whales and whalery were presented in an intriguing way most of the time.
If this was accompanied by an interesting story and engaging characters, this would have been a masterpiece. I know it is considered so, but it lacks too much in terms of plot, development of characters, and all the parts that make a book interesting to read outside of pure literary value, that it feels like Ahab: lacking something. The underlying theme of revenge against nature is not engaging. Rather, Ahab ends up as a stubborn, stupid, and overall despicable character. If only Melville had put somebody else that the readers could latch onto, could find a contra-position to the captain of the ship, the ending would have been truly epic. As it is, there's really way too little to enjoy and marvel at outside of prose, and language mastery.
I was left thinking of Moby Dick as similar to one of the least successful Umberto Eco's books. Erudition for its own sake ends up feeling empty.
The positives being the prose, the originality of language, the playfulness that Melville has with the English language. The sheer number of literary subgenres presents makes most chapters interesting to read by themselves, regardless of their content and value for the prosecution of the book. Even the "boring" parts about whales and whalery were presented in an intriguing way most of the time.
If this was accompanied by an interesting story and engaging characters, this would have been a masterpiece. I know it is considered so, but it lacks too much in terms of plot, development of characters, and all the parts that make a book interesting to read outside of pure literary value, that it feels like Ahab: lacking something. The underlying theme of revenge against nature is not engaging. Rather, Ahab ends up as a stubborn, stupid, and overall despicable character. If only Melville had put somebody else that the readers could latch onto, could find a contra-position to the captain of the ship, the ending would have been truly epic. As it is, there's really way too little to enjoy and marvel at outside of prose, and language mastery.
I was left thinking of Moby Dick as similar to one of the least successful Umberto Eco's books. Erudition for its own sake ends up feeling empty.
It is truly astonishing to me that I read this once before and not only gave it 4 stars but called it "boring". This second read through has taken the veil from my eyes and let me see this work for the beast that it is - a triumph of language and philosophy that holds pieces of truth for every life ever lived. It is a genuinely fantastic book.
The imagery Melville employs, particularly with Ahab, is so vivid and stark in the mind that one cannot but become an acolyte of the captain themselves at times. I have never felt so engaged in a character as I was when Ahab stands tall and triumphant against the typhoon of God and calls down lightning to christen (satanen?) his harpoon in The Candles - blowing out the very flame of heaven on its spear tip in one hot breath. I too have never felt such poetry in prose as when reading about the spirit fountain the Pequod spots night after night, or such peace as when Ishmael describes the calm in the midst of The Armada, or the ocean as spotted by those on the mastheads. The breadth of writing is astounding.
Melville created a work reflective of his own character, building on themes that he experienced first hand over the course of his early life - meaning, country, race, philosophy - drawing on his own struggle for purpose. I don't believe anyone can read this book properly without understanding the circumstances of its creation; Melville was a whaler for a brief period, in which he learned of the tragedy of the Essex, a Nantucket whaling vessel whose doom bears great similarity to the demise of the Pequod. This, to me, lends greater weight to the chapters oft deemed unnecessary; Melville uses his own whaling knowledge to build the foundation for his final three chapters, in which his vision cannot be properly expressed without knowledge of his terminology. His father was also a judge in the northern half of the states during the years leading to the civil war, one of the first to make a ruling following the passing of the Fugitive Slave Act, and someone who, despite his ruling against the slave, was in favor of emancipation. Melville combined his own life and reaching for meaning with the struggle for unity in the states. He saw the inevitability of conflict brewing and chose to express the course of failure we were on in this tome of a novel; blending personal philosophy with the clairvoyance of the US populace of the era. I won't be expanding much on my experience of that theme, but it is ever-present and worth exploring.
Back to the book.
"Call me Ishmael" - already we are faced with a great conundrum. Who are we calling Ishmael? Is this his real name? If nothing else, we can glean that the person implicitly positing this question is one who is searching; he is given (by himself or another) the name of a biblical wanderer, Ishmael, cast out by Abraham and left to drift alone. He is a man broken by life, one who lives with a "drizzly November" in his soul, looking towards the vast, uncaring ocean for meaning, as he says all men do.
The beginning of this book is characterized by a relatively intimate exploration of the philosophy of Ishmael. We get his insights into humanity, companionship, the ocean, religion, and even the best kind of sleep (That of a cold crown of the head to provide comparative warmth - "Nothing exists in itself"). In this composite image, we see his falling away from religion, found in his confusion with the actions of the mourning churchgoers (why weep if their loved are in heaven?) and time living in the valley dearth of meaning. We see his conceptions about "civilized" people falling away in his beautiful relationship with Queequeg; a man found to be often more civil than the local Americans, and a man who comes to be his closest companion (and in a way, ultimate savior). His search leads him to the Pequod, and by extension, leads him to Ahab.
Ahab is perhaps the most powerful character in any book I have read thus far, reaching heights equivalent to Judge Holden, a clear acolyte of Ahab. Named after the Ahab of Israel, he too is a despotic and cruel ruler (he also has his own Elijah, but in this story, Elijah unfortunately has no power). It would be surprising to some that a good 3rd or 4th of the book passes before Ahab enters the stage; but this delay allows his entrance to be all the more powerful.
Ahab is a man bent on taking revenge on the world itself - he has been deeply wronged by it; his leg stolen from him by this white brute of the ocean, his life drained by the sea, any purpose he once had trumped by this new vitriolic passion. The reader watches as the ship, and the very novel itself, becomes enraptured with Ahab, ensnared in his doomed net of purpose - resigned ultimately to the fate of the one who steers them. This capturing comes most violently in the chapter The Quarter-deck, following what I believe to be the reveal of the guiding philosophy of Ahab; in his "pasteboard masks speech". Ahab spits venom onto the page; he laments the veneer he believes is over the world - vowing himself to punch through the mask of reality to reach the true world that lies beneath. For him, the whale is the heart of what he wishes to reach. The senseless cruelty he has been privy to for his whole life cannot be all there is, and it cannot be allowed to reign free of his intervention - he must destroy it. This is the churning engine in his monomania and ultimately the noose around his neck.
Ishmael, in the chapter The Whiteness of the Whale, provides what I see as an alternate (and ultimately true) view of reality; one more bleak than the hidden vitality of the world Ahab desires, and in fact, its exact opposite. Ishmael ponders the potential that the visage of the surface world is but a mirage hiding the empty whiteness beyond. He wonders - what if at its core, the blank whiteness is all there is? He uses a comparison of the world being a leper; life itself and the color infused within it being nothing but the surface blemish of a cruel and uncaring world. This is Ahab's fatal flaw - this is not the world of Ahab, but it is the world. He lives in direct opposition to the universe as it exists, trying in complete vain to reveal what is beyond the white, all the while blind to the notion that the white is all there is.
This is why he must die. Ahab cannot live in the tension - he cannot live a life with purpose if the world itself is devoid of it. He would strike against the sun if it wronged him but would die of the flames. To him, this is all there can be. A world devoid of meaning to Ahab mandates a life of spite and rebellion. In some sense, Ahab embodies a certain kind of Camusian absurd hero - doomed to die but living a life subsumed by violent vitality beforehand. Ahab died in vain, but he died in as heroic a way as anyone could - kicking and screaming and dragging "a living part of heaven" into the depths. But despite this, the ocean will roll on, and on, and on, as it has since the dawn of mankind. What care could it possibly have?
Ishmael finds himself at the end of the novel right at the heart of this tension. He is adrift in the ocean, but nonetheless alive. He is an orphan of the universe, kept breathing by holding onto his personhood and companionship; relaying this trauma in the form of a novel he can comprehend, bringing the Lacanian realm of the Real into the realm of the Symbolic, showing he has the fortitude necessary to live in hell.
For as much as I've written here, there are thousands more pages I could write detailing my thoughts on the novel. I only discussed a few characters, not even touching on some of my favorites. Starbuck, for instance, a living embodiment of reason doomed to die for his fear of death being lesser than his zeal for life - Pip, a child representative of the contact with this absurd and meaningless world, the last link to reality severed by Ahab - Fedallah, the personification of Ahab's mania and thruster behind Ahab's rocket. Not to mention one of my favorite parts of the book, when Stubb forces the black cook to give a sermon to the sharks; the cook delivering a sermon worthy to be preached to the whole pre-fracture US. He lets the sharks know they could be angels if only they had self-control; an analogue message to the US that they could have been saved if not for their lack of self-control - they could not hold back from slavery. This was to be the downfall of the states of the 17th century.
Truly one of the best books I have read, if not the best. While I may enjoy other single books more than I did this one, Moby Dick is simply too layered and complex to not dive headfirst into. Therefore this review/essay is significantly longer than anything else I am likely to write elsewhere. I've done a great deal of thinking and study around this novel and I am sure there is a boatload more I will come to appreciate with time. I think everyone deserves to have their time with this book and hopefully will come to appreciate it as I do.
The imagery Melville employs, particularly with Ahab, is so vivid and stark in the mind that one cannot but become an acolyte of the captain themselves at times. I have never felt so engaged in a character as I was when Ahab stands tall and triumphant against the typhoon of God and calls down lightning to christen (satanen?) his harpoon in The Candles - blowing out the very flame of heaven on its spear tip in one hot breath. I too have never felt such poetry in prose as when reading about the spirit fountain the Pequod spots night after night, or such peace as when Ishmael describes the calm in the midst of The Armada, or the ocean as spotted by those on the mastheads. The breadth of writing is astounding.
Melville created a work reflective of his own character, building on themes that he experienced first hand over the course of his early life - meaning, country, race, philosophy - drawing on his own struggle for purpose. I don't believe anyone can read this book properly without understanding the circumstances of its creation; Melville was a whaler for a brief period, in which he learned of the tragedy of the Essex, a Nantucket whaling vessel whose doom bears great similarity to the demise of the Pequod. This, to me, lends greater weight to the chapters oft deemed unnecessary; Melville uses his own whaling knowledge to build the foundation for his final three chapters, in which his vision cannot be properly expressed without knowledge of his terminology. His father was also a judge in the northern half of the states during the years leading to the civil war, one of the first to make a ruling following the passing of the Fugitive Slave Act, and someone who, despite his ruling against the slave, was in favor of emancipation. Melville combined his own life and reaching for meaning with the struggle for unity in the states. He saw the inevitability of conflict brewing and chose to express the course of failure we were on in this tome of a novel; blending personal philosophy with the clairvoyance of the US populace of the era. I won't be expanding much on my experience of that theme, but it is ever-present and worth exploring.
Back to the book.
"Call me Ishmael" - already we are faced with a great conundrum. Who are we calling Ishmael? Is this his real name? If nothing else, we can glean that the person implicitly positing this question is one who is searching; he is given (by himself or another) the name of a biblical wanderer, Ishmael, cast out by Abraham and left to drift alone. He is a man broken by life, one who lives with a "drizzly November" in his soul, looking towards the vast, uncaring ocean for meaning, as he says all men do.
The beginning of this book is characterized by a relatively intimate exploration of the philosophy of Ishmael. We get his insights into humanity, companionship, the ocean, religion, and even the best kind of sleep (That of a cold crown of the head to provide comparative warmth - "Nothing exists in itself"). In this composite image, we see his falling away from religion, found in his confusion with the actions of the mourning churchgoers (why weep if their loved are in heaven?) and time living in the valley dearth of meaning. We see his conceptions about "civilized" people falling away in his beautiful relationship with Queequeg; a man found to be often more civil than the local Americans, and a man who comes to be his closest companion (and in a way, ultimate savior). His search leads him to the Pequod, and by extension, leads him to Ahab.
Ahab is perhaps the most powerful character in any book I have read thus far, reaching heights equivalent to Judge Holden, a clear acolyte of Ahab. Named after the Ahab of Israel, he too is a despotic and cruel ruler (he also has his own Elijah, but in this story, Elijah unfortunately has no power). It would be surprising to some that a good 3rd or 4th of the book passes before Ahab enters the stage; but this delay allows his entrance to be all the more powerful.
Ahab is a man bent on taking revenge on the world itself - he has been deeply wronged by it; his leg stolen from him by this white brute of the ocean, his life drained by the sea, any purpose he once had trumped by this new vitriolic passion. The reader watches as the ship, and the very novel itself, becomes enraptured with Ahab, ensnared in his doomed net of purpose - resigned ultimately to the fate of the one who steers them. This capturing comes most violently in the chapter The Quarter-deck, following what I believe to be the reveal of the guiding philosophy of Ahab; in his "pasteboard masks speech". Ahab spits venom onto the page; he laments the veneer he believes is over the world - vowing himself to punch through the mask of reality to reach the true world that lies beneath. For him, the whale is the heart of what he wishes to reach. The senseless cruelty he has been privy to for his whole life cannot be all there is, and it cannot be allowed to reign free of his intervention - he must destroy it. This is the churning engine in his monomania and ultimately the noose around his neck.
Ishmael, in the chapter The Whiteness of the Whale, provides what I see as an alternate (and ultimately true) view of reality; one more bleak than the hidden vitality of the world Ahab desires, and in fact, its exact opposite. Ishmael ponders the potential that the visage of the surface world is but a mirage hiding the empty whiteness beyond. He wonders - what if at its core, the blank whiteness is all there is? He uses a comparison of the world being a leper; life itself and the color infused within it being nothing but the surface blemish of a cruel and uncaring world. This is Ahab's fatal flaw - this is not the world of Ahab, but it is the world. He lives in direct opposition to the universe as it exists, trying in complete vain to reveal what is beyond the white, all the while blind to the notion that the white is all there is.
This is why he must die. Ahab cannot live in the tension - he cannot live a life with purpose if the world itself is devoid of it. He would strike against the sun if it wronged him but would die of the flames. To him, this is all there can be. A world devoid of meaning to Ahab mandates a life of spite and rebellion. In some sense, Ahab embodies a certain kind of Camusian absurd hero - doomed to die but living a life subsumed by violent vitality beforehand. Ahab died in vain, but he died in as heroic a way as anyone could - kicking and screaming and dragging "a living part of heaven" into the depths. But despite this, the ocean will roll on, and on, and on, as it has since the dawn of mankind. What care could it possibly have?
Ishmael finds himself at the end of the novel right at the heart of this tension. He is adrift in the ocean, but nonetheless alive. He is an orphan of the universe, kept breathing by holding onto his personhood and companionship; relaying this trauma in the form of a novel he can comprehend, bringing the Lacanian realm of the Real into the realm of the Symbolic, showing he has the fortitude necessary to live in hell.
For as much as I've written here, there are thousands more pages I could write detailing my thoughts on the novel. I only discussed a few characters, not even touching on some of my favorites. Starbuck, for instance, a living embodiment of reason doomed to die for his fear of death being lesser than his zeal for life - Pip, a child representative of the contact with this absurd and meaningless world, the last link to reality severed by Ahab - Fedallah, the personification of Ahab's mania and thruster behind Ahab's rocket. Not to mention one of my favorite parts of the book, when Stubb forces the black cook to give a sermon to the sharks; the cook delivering a sermon worthy to be preached to the whole pre-fracture US. He lets the sharks know they could be angels if only they had self-control; an analogue message to the US that they could have been saved if not for their lack of self-control - they could not hold back from slavery. This was to be the downfall of the states of the 17th century.
Truly one of the best books I have read, if not the best. While I may enjoy other single books more than I did this one, Moby Dick is simply too layered and complex to not dive headfirst into. Therefore this review/essay is significantly longer than anything else I am likely to write elsewhere. I've done a great deal of thinking and study around this novel and I am sure there is a boatload more I will come to appreciate with time. I think everyone deserves to have their time with this book and hopefully will come to appreciate it as I do.
adventurous
challenging
informative
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
This book is so extremely dense. Because of the lack of options entertainment-wise, I can see why this was such a hit in it's own time. You really learn a lot about whale fishery, whales, other cultures, ships and about the human mind. I didn't enjoy reading it and couldn't follow the story without the audiobook reading along with me. But I do love the insights it gave me in what life was like in 1851, including the morals people held during those days (lot's of racism, mysogony and closeted gays but almost no ableism for some reason) and the history lessons about other places around the world. Alsothe disgusting practices a lot of the world still holds dear. What do you mean "old man and his very young, daughter-like wife"?!?!?!?!
Would never read it again and also not recommend it to anyone other then people that, like me, enjoy just knowing about other times through the stories that were massive in their times.
Would never read it again and also not recommend it to anyone other then people that, like me, enjoy just knowing about other times through the stories that were massive in their times.
adventurous
informative
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Part of me never wants to read Melville again; the other to read everything. This book is maddening, and as much as I recognise its brilliance, I understand also its lack of initial recognition. Will write more ad my thoughts gather. Whether or not this is a five-star masterpiece to you depends wholly on the ceteology sections. Maybe I'll be more patient with those when I read it again; for I must.