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itsmeashleygee 's review for:
Moby-Dick: Or, the Whale
by Herman Melville
God bless it. To finish this book takes the effort of an entire whaling ship. To not get lost in the endless side trails of whaling history, whale biology, ship architecture, and navigation minutia takes the determination of a hundred harpooners. To stick with Ishmael and Queequeg and Ahab alongside their fated journey is to give up all hope of making it out alive yourself.
But readers, I have finished it. The tale is done. I have voyaged into the inky waters of the ocean and looked into the leviathan’s eye.
And I’ll never do it again. At this point I’m not even sure if I’m better for having taken the journey. I will, at a point at which I’ve recovered from these rope burns and sea sickness, read some more forgiving review or critical essay extolling this book’s virtues that may make me feel differently about this rough voyage I’ve just survived but right now I want firm land and plain speak and not a single mention of a whale ever again.
But readers, I have finished it. The tale is done. I have voyaged into the inky waters of the ocean and looked into the leviathan’s eye.
And I’ll never do it again. At this point I’m not even sure if I’m better for having taken the journey. I will, at a point at which I’ve recovered from these rope burns and sea sickness, read some more forgiving review or critical essay extolling this book’s virtues that may make me feel differently about this rough voyage I’ve just survived but right now I want firm land and plain speak and not a single mention of a whale ever again.