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jennyyates 's review for:
Moby-Dick: Or, the Whale
by Herman Melville
I finally got around to reading this. It's beautifully written, often surprising, sometimes funny, frequently profoundly philosophical. At the same time, it can be quite tedious at times, because Melville meticulously relates everything he knows about whales. The different types, the physiology, their place in art and literature, and anything else he can think of. So at times, the novel is bogged down, and at times, it moves along at a stirring pace.
Melville also describes the way a whaling ship functions, in great detail. The book can be very graphic as it goes into the capture and killing of these giant creatures, and sometimes that was quite hard to read – since I grew up in an era in which whales are mostly revered and protected. The whale, Moby Dick, is quite malevolent.
Ahab, the one-legged, obsessive captain, doesn’t actually confront Moby Dick until quite late in the book. All the action scenes are very vivid. And often Melville’s verbal acrobatics took my breath away. For example, in describing lightning, Melville calls it “elbowed lances of fire”.
Some other quotes:
< There is wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness. >
< While thus employed, the heavy pewter lamp suspended in chains over his head, continually rocked with the motion of the ship, and for ever threw shifting gleams and shadows of line upon his wrinkled brow, till it almost seemed that while he himself was marking out lines and courses on the wrinkled charts, some invisible pencil was also tracing lines and courses upon the deeply marked chart of his forehead. >
< In merchantmen, oil for the sailor is more scarce than the milk of queens. To dress in the dark, and eat in the dark, and stumble in darkness to his pallet, this is his usual lot. But the whaleman, as he seeks the food of light, so he lives in light. He makes his berth an Aladdin’s lamp, and lays him down in it; so that in the pitchiest night the ship’s black hull still houses an illumination. >
< Oh! The metempsychosis! Oh! Pythagoras, that in bright Greece, two thousand years ago, did die, so good, so wise, so mild; I sailed with thee along the Peruvian coast last voyage – and foolish as I am, taught thee, a green simple boy, how to splice a rope! >
< He saw God’s hand upon the treadle of the loom, and spoke it; and therefore his shipmates called him mad. So man’s insanity is heaven’s sense; and wandering from all mortal reason, man comes at last to that celestial thought, which, to reason, is absurd and frantic; and weal or woe, feels then compromised, indifferent as his God. >
< But still another inquiry remains; one often agitated by the more recondite Nantucketers. Whether owing to the almost omniscient look-outs at the mast-heads of the whale ships, now penetrating even through Behring’s straits, and into the remotest secret drawers and lockers of the world; and the thousand harpoons and lances darted along all continental coasts; the moot point is, whether Leviathan can endure so wide a chase, and so remorseless a havoc; whether he must not at last be exterminated from the waters, and the last whale, like the last man, smoke his last pipe, and then himself evaporate in the final puff. >
< In the face of the glad, hay-making suns, and soft cymbaling, round harvest-moons, we must needs give in to this: that the gods themselves are not for ever glad. The ineffable sad birth-mark in the brow of man, is but the stamp of sorrow in the signers. >
< The ship tore on; leaving such a furrow in the sea as when a cannon-ball, missent, becomes a plough-share and turns up the level land. >
Melville also describes the way a whaling ship functions, in great detail. The book can be very graphic as it goes into the capture and killing of these giant creatures, and sometimes that was quite hard to read – since I grew up in an era in which whales are mostly revered and protected. The whale, Moby Dick, is quite malevolent.
Ahab, the one-legged, obsessive captain, doesn’t actually confront Moby Dick until quite late in the book. All the action scenes are very vivid. And often Melville’s verbal acrobatics took my breath away. For example, in describing lightning, Melville calls it “elbowed lances of fire”.
Some other quotes:
< There is wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness. >
< While thus employed, the heavy pewter lamp suspended in chains over his head, continually rocked with the motion of the ship, and for ever threw shifting gleams and shadows of line upon his wrinkled brow, till it almost seemed that while he himself was marking out lines and courses on the wrinkled charts, some invisible pencil was also tracing lines and courses upon the deeply marked chart of his forehead. >
< In merchantmen, oil for the sailor is more scarce than the milk of queens. To dress in the dark, and eat in the dark, and stumble in darkness to his pallet, this is his usual lot. But the whaleman, as he seeks the food of light, so he lives in light. He makes his berth an Aladdin’s lamp, and lays him down in it; so that in the pitchiest night the ship’s black hull still houses an illumination. >
< Oh! The metempsychosis! Oh! Pythagoras, that in bright Greece, two thousand years ago, did die, so good, so wise, so mild; I sailed with thee along the Peruvian coast last voyage – and foolish as I am, taught thee, a green simple boy, how to splice a rope! >
< He saw God’s hand upon the treadle of the loom, and spoke it; and therefore his shipmates called him mad. So man’s insanity is heaven’s sense; and wandering from all mortal reason, man comes at last to that celestial thought, which, to reason, is absurd and frantic; and weal or woe, feels then compromised, indifferent as his God. >
< But still another inquiry remains; one often agitated by the more recondite Nantucketers. Whether owing to the almost omniscient look-outs at the mast-heads of the whale ships, now penetrating even through Behring’s straits, and into the remotest secret drawers and lockers of the world; and the thousand harpoons and lances darted along all continental coasts; the moot point is, whether Leviathan can endure so wide a chase, and so remorseless a havoc; whether he must not at last be exterminated from the waters, and the last whale, like the last man, smoke his last pipe, and then himself evaporate in the final puff. >
< In the face of the glad, hay-making suns, and soft cymbaling, round harvest-moons, we must needs give in to this: that the gods themselves are not for ever glad. The ineffable sad birth-mark in the brow of man, is but the stamp of sorrow in the signers. >
< The ship tore on; leaving such a furrow in the sea as when a cannon-ball, missent, becomes a plough-share and turns up the level land. >