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During the times when Melville didn't wander into the bog of whale anatomy or classification, this was a fascinating story. I enjoyed the chapters with plenty of action (like when Queequeg birthed his fellow sailor out of a sinking whale carcass), but could care less about the wordy interludes expounding on cetology. Any literary value was lost on me since, by the end, I honestly didn't care. Because I had to read it for school (in a limited amount of time), I just wanted to get done with it and finish the lit module. Maybe sometime I'll come back to it and take my time reading and evaluating, but Moby Dick just didn't work for me due to the amount of whale anatomy and classification that seemed to bog down the story.
A work of literary genius. I recommend this to everyone, but only the few who choose to read it will reap the awards it gives.
Género en mi un amor hacia las ballenas y me dió una perspectiva que nunca antes había visto de ellas, pero también un odio a todo el léxico náutico tan extenso, probablemente podrían hacerse 2 libros distintos de este y de la mitad de extensión de cada uno en vez de uno gigante demasiado entreverado
adventurous
challenging
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
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
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
informative
reflective
sad
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
The more whales the less fish.
Let Ahab beware of Ahab; beware of thyself, old man.
It is not down in any map; true places never are.
Let Ahab beware of Ahab; beware of thyself, old man.
It is not down in any map; true places never are.
"A great meter is no mere implement, like pen or typewriter, but a keyboard a young poet learns to master, exploring its range and subtleties, stretching its capabilities of harmony and expressiveness. Merely to accept the meter as given by one’s predecessors, to write one’s verses “in” iambic pentameter, is to assist at the death of a metrical form and perhaps one’s own poetry. The demise of iambic pentameter as the chief meter of English poetry probably owes much to its coming to be understood even by poets themselves as an available prosodic form, a meter to write poems “in,” a Roman road, rather than as a kind of heroic adventure or even a haunted house."[1]
Melville’s Moby-Dick: or, the Whale is like the “Roman road” for the English novel. It’s wildly inventive, riotously funny, excellently written, has an almost mystical sense of atmosphere, introduces one of the most transcendentally fascinating characters in the whole of world literature in Captain Ahab. And above all, it’s simply a great joy to read.2
The greatest novels in the English language are not only excellent narratives; they enrich the language and show its beauty. They’re exhilarating, they energize, they inspire. Melville’s Moby-Dick certainly fits the bill, and only McCarthy’s Blood Meridian: Or the Evening Redness in the West (1985) has recently come close to replicating said grandeur of reading, and in many ways I believe it’s a worthy companion to this book. They go hand in hand, and for this reason I invoked Wright’s quotation. Melville is so all-encompassing here it’s difficult not to think of Moby-Dick as an emblem of creative writing. I think Joyce’s Ulysses (1922) is the logical continuation of the inherent complexity of Melville’s thought, something we might call modernism. In Moby-Dick there’s a sermon, essayistic, encyclopedic descriptions of whaling, sudden leaps into play acting, multiple points of view in narration, soliloquies. And the feeling one has is that all of this belongs there and without which it wouldn’t be Moby-Dick. That’s a sign of a great novel: that there’s no superfluity, everything belongs, every particular creates the essentials.[3]
And then there’s Captain Ahab. “He’s full of riddles”, says Stubb after being told off by the Captain, and that’s exactly what so fascinates in him. Cormac McCarthy definitely modeled Judge Holden after Ahab, so alike are the two with their diabolical and mystical aura. They’re mere men but still beyond the narrative. His grandness is Shakespearean[4] It’s boisterous, energetic, mesmerizing.
The Penguin that I own is quite nice, it has a good introduction and some supplements at the back: a list of variants between editions, annotations as well as maps and images. The annotations at their very best give insight into Melville’s writing that becomes essential in reading the novel. Such is the gloss on Ahab’s “Ego non baptizo te in nomine patris, sed in nomine diaboli!”: “Melville remarked in a letter to Hawthorne (June 29, 1851) that this is the secret ‘motto’ of the book.”
I have also listened to an audiobook version of the book, narrated by Frank Muller. It’s one of the best audiobooks I’ve heard. He reads it a bit fast at times, but it’s his rhythm and the voices he produces that make it so utterly enjoyable.
Endnotes:
[1] George T. Wright, Shakespeare’s Metrical Art, 18.
[2] I know there are people who would rathe jump out of the window than read it, so there.
[3] Again I hear somebody trying to jump out the window.
[4] “I’d strike the sun if it insulted me” in chapter 36; “What I’ve dared, I’ve willed; and what I’ve willed, I’ll do! They think me mad—Starbuck does; but I’m demoniac, I am madness maddened! That wild madness that’s only calm to comprehend itself! The prophecy was that I should be dismembered; and—Aye! I lost this leg. I now prophesy that I will dismember my dismemberer” in chapter 37.
2 October, 2011