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3.4 AVERAGE
3.4 AVERAGE
adventurous
challenging
informative
reflective
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
adventurous
reflective
tense
slow-paced
This shit rocks. Reading anything less than the full text is a disservice to its style
What a blowhard. And I don't mean the whale. The beginning was pretty interesting, which is probably why after multiple starts over the past years I felt compelled to finish this book eventually. The rest was like the sea, in that it was vast, complicated, and full of garbage. Usually, I love reading 'classics' just to see why they've stood the test of time, plus I can finally understand the references. Unfortunately, I felt that this "great novel" gives classics a bad name and was not worth it. One unexpected positive is that it worked as an excellent treatment for my insomniac tendencies.
If I laid down and tried to do a chapter I would be out in mere moments. I know how mean that sounds, but it was lovely and genuinely was my favorite part. That said, I do see why people like it, there are some beautiful and detailed passages buried along with a great story in there.
If you are like me and find yourself becoming so focused on conquering a massive feat despite all logic showing you it isn't worth it... (see, I did read it!) just move on and do something more enjoyable with your time.
If I laid down and tried to do a chapter I would be out in mere moments. I know how mean that sounds, but it was lovely and genuinely was my favorite part. That said, I do see why people like it, there are some beautiful and detailed passages buried along with a great story in there.
If you are like me and find yourself becoming so focused on conquering a massive feat despite all logic showing you it isn't worth it... (see, I did read it!) just move on and do something more enjoyable with your time.
I love Moby Dick. I've read it before but heard that William Hootkins's reading was worth listening to, so I gave the audiobook a try while hiking with my dog. WOW, just an incredible performance. He brought so much life to a book I already enjoyed.
adventurous
challenging
dark
informative
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
challenging
informative
reflective
slow-paced
In popular western culture, we all know something of Moby Dick. To read the book today is to grapple with a text that seems so foundational to the American literary tradition - call it what you will: a classic, an epic, a masterpiece; it's reputation is widespread and well-earned. What is perhaps less well-known (at least to this first time reader) is how damn weird this book is.
To describe what the book is about is something of a challenge, and I have a feeling that the author, resurrected, would have no better luck here. The plot, as is well known, ostensibly centers around Captain Ahab chasing the White Whale, Moby Dick, across all the oceans of the world in vengeance for his lost leg. But this is only the least part of what the book seems to be about. Intermingled in such a quest-like structure is a huge systematic treatise on that mystery of the whale itself, nearly breaking readers to exhaustion by the deluge of encyclopedic pseudo-academic chapters where hardly a narrative strand can be found and we simply talk of whales and their anatomies, behaviours, social interactions, significance in ancient history and modern economy, depictions in art, and critiques on contemporary essays upon the subject. This is coupled with a less academic (though no less thorough) set of chapters elucidating the practice of whaling. And before any of this, here comes Ishmael, the supposed "narrator" of this story, in which the first 28 chapters centers around him, in a more traditional protagonist framework. He's a remarkably modern character for such a classic story but these first 100 pages are really the false premise, as Ishmael narratively retreats into oblivion just as soon as Ahab makes his appearance, and what little we see of him are from the various whale/whaling digressions in which he serves as proctor.
This book is a challenging read, and would be nigh impossible to finish if it wasn't for the utter brilliancy of its writing. Like I'm sure has been said before, this book is nothing short of Shakespearean verse rendered into the form of a novel (albeit a weird, half-experimental one). This comparison can be lazily drawn based on similar uses of early modern english, but it really lies in how each paragraph (or some of Melville's page-long sentences) revel in their words. The book consistently produces a rhythm to its writing that begs to be read aloud (or at least consciously subvocalized). I've used the term "lyrical" to describe the prose of book's I've enjoyed, but I think I've been mis-using the term until now. The language in Moby Dick is exactly lyrical - poetic, it sings. And a bit more on its Shakespearean qualities - at certain points it literally becomes a play-script, complete with stage directions and theatrical asides. And I'd match a great many of Ahab's soliloquies against the very best of Hamlet, Lear, Macbeth and the works in terms of sheer emotional and linguistic achievement and philosophical merit. Where Melville chooses to indulge in those beautiful prolonged sentences, juggling dozens of conjunctions, they never fail to be a pleasure to read, and, surprisingly, precisely clear as to what is being said. There's so much in Melville's prose, and yet it's startlingly easy to follow the language; how both depth and approachability are accomplished baffles me. So much imagery and metaphors and diverse digressions of philosophy and thought are extracted from the setting of the sea, it's almost unreal how much mileage the book gets from such a relatively consistent scenery. The book is also chalk full of allusions and references to (it seems, anyway) every classical work under the sun, tales from antiquity, biblical parables, and so much else it's almost overwhelming to think how well-read the author must have been to commit all of this into a single book.
These encyclopedic whale chapters can be entertaining in their own right, provided the reader establish their own reasoning for why it is they are in the book in the first place. They contain a bit of wit to them (moreover, Moby Dick as a whole is much funnier than its reputation suggests) and are still written in a wicked style (though less poetic than some of the philosophical/narrative chapters). However they can still be a chore, and despite personally warming to them as they became more frequent in the middle of the book, I found myself drowning in the sheer density of Moby Dick. In a month of exclusive, compact and careful reading, my mind started to become hazy on previous delightful episodes or interactions between the whaler crew, as my memories were crowded out by stuff like the number, width and height of Spermwhale ribs (for christ sake!). I had to refer to copious notes during my reading to keep a firm understanding of the book's events and I feel this did interfere with my enjoyment of it as a whole. I'm sure a re-read (if I ever get to it) will be a smoother ride.
Moby Dick contains such a colourful (if a bit dated) cast of characters in the crew of the whaling ship: the Pequod, and it's a shame they had to fight for prominence amid the Great Whale Encyclopedia. I wanted more on tender Queequeg, the woeful Blacksmith and traumatized Pip. Luckily Captain Ahab is so wonderfully realized and casts as large a shadow over the book as Moby Dick himself. In so many chapters concerning this fell, one-legged captain, I had to put the book down and just marvel at what a character he was (assisted by the contrast to his fascinating, level-headed first-mate: Starbuck).
It's a supremely odd book, no question about it, at times seeming like the text is fighting to serve three or four entirely different novels altogether. But its written in such achingly beautiful prose, mythologizing the whale and its hunt into nothing less than an Arthurian quest replete with dragons and knights, and contending with seemingly everything under the sun: the deep capacity for evil inside men, solitude, the weariness of living, limits of rationality, the indifference of nature to man's great toils, and of course the belligerence of a madman. And it caps off in a spectacular, whirlwind of chapters (starting from Chapter 116) that bring a thrilling end to the mad hunt for Moby Dick. What a book!
To describe what the book is about is something of a challenge, and I have a feeling that the author, resurrected, would have no better luck here. The plot, as is well known, ostensibly centers around Captain Ahab chasing the White Whale, Moby Dick, across all the oceans of the world in vengeance for his lost leg. But this is only the least part of what the book seems to be about. Intermingled in such a quest-like structure is a huge systematic treatise on that mystery of the whale itself, nearly breaking readers to exhaustion by the deluge of encyclopedic pseudo-academic chapters where hardly a narrative strand can be found and we simply talk of whales and their anatomies, behaviours, social interactions, significance in ancient history and modern economy, depictions in art, and critiques on contemporary essays upon the subject. This is coupled with a less academic (though no less thorough) set of chapters elucidating the practice of whaling. And before any of this, here comes Ishmael, the supposed "narrator" of this story, in which the first 28 chapters centers around him, in a more traditional protagonist framework. He's a remarkably modern character for such a classic story but these first 100 pages are really the false premise, as Ishmael narratively retreats into oblivion just as soon as Ahab makes his appearance, and what little we see of him are from the various whale/whaling digressions in which he serves as proctor.
This book is a challenging read, and would be nigh impossible to finish if it wasn't for the utter brilliancy of its writing. Like I'm sure has been said before, this book is nothing short of Shakespearean verse rendered into the form of a novel (albeit a weird, half-experimental one). This comparison can be lazily drawn based on similar uses of early modern english, but it really lies in how each paragraph (or some of Melville's page-long sentences) revel in their words. The book consistently produces a rhythm to its writing that begs to be read aloud (or at least consciously subvocalized). I've used the term "lyrical" to describe the prose of book's I've enjoyed, but I think I've been mis-using the term until now. The language in Moby Dick is exactly lyrical - poetic, it sings. And a bit more on its Shakespearean qualities - at certain points it literally becomes a play-script, complete with stage directions and theatrical asides. And I'd match a great many of Ahab's soliloquies against the very best of Hamlet, Lear, Macbeth and the works in terms of sheer emotional and linguistic achievement and philosophical merit. Where Melville chooses to indulge in those beautiful prolonged sentences, juggling dozens of conjunctions, they never fail to be a pleasure to read, and, surprisingly, precisely clear as to what is being said. There's so much in Melville's prose, and yet it's startlingly easy to follow the language; how both depth and approachability are accomplished baffles me. So much imagery and metaphors and diverse digressions of philosophy and thought are extracted from the setting of the sea, it's almost unreal how much mileage the book gets from such a relatively consistent scenery. The book is also chalk full of allusions and references to (it seems, anyway) every classical work under the sun, tales from antiquity, biblical parables, and so much else it's almost overwhelming to think how well-read the author must have been to commit all of this into a single book.
These encyclopedic whale chapters can be entertaining in their own right, provided the reader establish their own reasoning for why it is they are in the book in the first place. They contain a bit of wit to them (moreover, Moby Dick as a whole is much funnier than its reputation suggests) and are still written in a wicked style (though less poetic than some of the philosophical/narrative chapters). However they can still be a chore, and despite personally warming to them as they became more frequent in the middle of the book, I found myself drowning in the sheer density of Moby Dick. In a month of exclusive, compact and careful reading, my mind started to become hazy on previous delightful episodes or interactions between the whaler crew, as my memories were crowded out by stuff like the number, width and height of Spermwhale ribs (for christ sake!). I had to refer to copious notes during my reading to keep a firm understanding of the book's events and I feel this did interfere with my enjoyment of it as a whole. I'm sure a re-read (if I ever get to it) will be a smoother ride.
Moby Dick contains such a colourful (if a bit dated) cast of characters in the crew of the whaling ship: the Pequod, and it's a shame they had to fight for prominence amid the Great Whale Encyclopedia. I wanted more on tender Queequeg, the woeful Blacksmith and traumatized Pip. Luckily Captain Ahab is so wonderfully realized and casts as large a shadow over the book as Moby Dick himself. In so many chapters concerning this fell, one-legged captain, I had to put the book down and just marvel at what a character he was (assisted by the contrast to his fascinating, level-headed first-mate: Starbuck).
It's a supremely odd book, no question about it, at times seeming like the text is fighting to serve three or four entirely different novels altogether. But its written in such achingly beautiful prose, mythologizing the whale and its hunt into nothing less than an Arthurian quest replete with dragons and knights, and contending with seemingly everything under the sun: the deep capacity for evil inside men, solitude, the weariness of living, limits of rationality, the indifference of nature to man's great toils, and of course the belligerence of a madman. And it caps off in a spectacular, whirlwind of chapters (starting from Chapter 116) that bring a thrilling end to the mad hunt for Moby Dick. What a book!
3.5 stars.
I can only describe my feelings for this book as love/hate.
It amused me, it triggered me, it bored me, it made me slap my head in frustration and wonder.
I can only describe my feelings for this book as love/hate.
It amused me, it triggered me, it bored me, it made me slap my head in frustration and wonder.
I don't want to type too much. But after finishing this, I feel like I can't trust this narrator at all.
He is just telling a story how he sees fit, and I think he is a liar, a phony, a showman. Apparently he is a goddamn expert at everything. Chapters and chapters over his idea of whale definitions, how processes are done, sizes of bones and more. I think he is lying about most of the book's plot, so I don't know if his facts are true facts. This unreliable narrator could be just fucking with me.
So what I am saying is, if I hoped to get any realistic whaling stories out of this, I feel like I now cannot even trust that.
He is just telling a story how he sees fit, and I think he is a liar, a phony, a showman. Apparently he is a goddamn expert at everything. Chapters and chapters over his idea of whale definitions, how processes are done, sizes of bones and more. I think he is lying about most of the book's plot, so I don't know if his facts are true facts. This unreliable narrator could be just fucking with me.
So what I am saying is, if I hoped to get any realistic whaling stories out of this, I feel like I now cannot even trust that.