Moby Dick or The Whale (1851)
4.5 Stars out of 5
Herman Melville
663 pages
"Talk
not to me of blasphemy, man; I'd strike the sun if it insulted me."
"Towards
thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple
with thee; from hell’s heart I stab at thee; for hate’s sake I spit my last
breath at thee."
Ahab
As a high school senior I once stared with dread at a thick volume
I was assigned to read for class. The book was Herman Melville’s 1851
masterpiece “Moby Dick, or The Whale”. Now as a far older reader (hopefully somewhat
wiser, too, but that is perhaps debatable), I decided to re-read it. I did so
partly in an effort to continue a personal quest to fill in the various
literary gaps that I possess. But partly, I re-read it to see if I would have
the same reaction as an adult as when I was a child. I had recently tried the
same experiment with Hugo’s “Les Miserables”. I had finished that book with
this question: what would a typical adolescent learn from this book; how
differently would an adult react? How many sixteen year olds can understand
either of these unique works of art, even at the superficial level, let alone at
any of the deeper levels? I couldn’t that is certain. I think, only now after a
lifetime of experiences with the human condition, that I am finally approaching
some level of understanding. And despite the hours spent working my way through
the archaic language, the endless obscure biblical and Shakespearean references,
the chapters-long digressions into cetology and whaling techniques, I can
confidently say, it was worth the effort of reading “Moby Dick”. I cannot even
say re-reading anymore. It was truly as if I read it for the first time.
There are so many ways to analyze “Moby Dick”, one trembles
at the task. If we try a mechanical approach first, let’s consider how the
novel is structured. There is historical and critical evidence to suggest that
Moby Dick is two books: the first is a simple yarn about a young man joining a
commercial whaling vessel and his adventures, the second is an encyclopedic
compendium of 19th century scientific cetology, of whale related
art, of details of 19th century whaling techniques, and a terribly
complex tale overlaying the simple yarn that employs biblical allusions and
Shakespearean language and motifs. It is critical for any reader to think in
these terms when one reads this book; reading through the details of “Moby
Dick” takes more patience that Dostoevsky’s “War and Peace” requires, and just
as careful a reading for symbolism and theme as anything by Shakespeare – “King
Lear” is the play that most comes to my mind. (At the most superficial level,
who is madder, Ahab or King Lear?)
Sticking with the mechanical for the moment, let’s examine
some of the patterns within the overall novel. There is a seeming randomness to
the manner in which the chapters are organized: some are devoted to a simple
narrative, others to thorough investigations into whales in art and science, or
to Moby Dick’s seeming preternatural evilness, while other chapters are
dedicated to a common theme (e.g. conversations on the quarter deck). However,
within the chapters there are
patterns in the events that take place. Consider the nine meetings (aka gams)
that Ahab’s ship the Pequod takes
with other whaling ships. The pattern these meetings display is a marvelous use
of foreshadowing: with each successive ship, each ship’s captain relays their own
encounters with Moby Dick (the fierce whale that Ahab seeks), and with each encounter,
the results have proven to be more horrific. The pattern set by these other
ships warns the reader very clearly of Ahab’s own pending meeting’s outcome.
Another internal aspect of the chapters is the narrator
Ishmael. Not only does Ishmael have one of the most famous opening lines in all
of English literature (“Call me Ismael”), his own biblical allusion (the
disinherited/outcast son of Abraham’s union with his handmaiden Hagar), he
plays two distinct structural roles in Moby Dick: an immature young man
learning whaling as a character in
the story, and an older, experienced man recalling the story that he alone
(spoiler alert) survives; the key here to Ishmael as narrator is his oft stated
goal of “telling the story right”. His symbolic role of the outcast (just like
his biblical forefather) is a critical element for Melville in investigating
and describing this book’s primary themes of identity and the oft-described
good/evil duality. Because Narrator Ishmael is the outsider, he can stand away
from the god/man dualism of Ahab or the good/evil dualism of Moby Dick and
describe what he saw without subjective bias. But by begging for permission to
“tell the story right”, Melville also gives himself permission to not only include
the cetological digressions, to jump supernaturally from one character’s view
of the events that unfold within the overall story, and to most critically provide
an omniscient knowledge of conversations and events that the character Ismael
could not have actually witnessed. Consider the following description of the Ahab/Moby
Dick duality by Narrator Ishmael:
"All
that most maddens and torments; all that stirs up the lees of things; all truth
with malice in it; all that cracks the sinews and cakes the brain; all the
subtle demonisms of life and thought; all evil, to crazy Ahab, were visibly
personified, and made practically assailable in Moby Dick."
Sailor Ishmael would neither know nor comprehend such
thoughts (and there is a multitude of such within the book), but the demi-god
Narrator Ishmael; he knows all. However while Narrator Ishmael assumes this
god-like role within “Moby Dick”, there is of course, another character far
more deserving of that description and character role – Ahab.
One last note on the structural elements of “Moby Dick” concerns
the language used, especially Ahab’s. In this case it is a highly instructive component
to the book; it seems at times to be a lesson in (if nothing else) the poetic
language and techniques of Shakespeare. “Moby Dick” is filled with Ahab’s and
others’ soliloquies. A favorite minor speech by Ahab of mine is where he worries
over what is driving him:
“What is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is
it; what cozening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor
commands me?”
Does this not sound like a line from “Macbeth” or “King
Lear”? Ahab’s poetic language, is also salted
with “thee’s” and “thou’s”, words that constantly
work to create a mood of Quaker-like religiosity in Ahab’s tortured god-less
soul. All of these elements of language work to place him outside the realm of his
contemporaries (i.e. mortal man). For while, the narrator Ishmael tells the
story, it is Ahab’s story, more so than any other character in the book.
Another way of trying to understand “Moby Dick” (as with any
work of fiction) is to explore the author’s personal history. And while it is
tempting to investigate the temporal influences on Melville when he wrote this
book (his love of Shakespeare and most especially his reading of the sinking of
the whaler Essex by a whale), it is
really far better in my opinion to focus on two other aspects of “Moby Dick”:
themes and characters, most notably a triad of characters, Ahab, his Quaker
first mate Starbuck, and his harpooner, the Parsi, Fedallah. Let’s begin with
these three characters that are so central to this book. As anachronistic as it
may be, I was constantly tempted to think of the three in Freudian terms. Ahab
with his monomania, his nearly uncontrolled rages, and his apparent
indifference to the needs of others seems a perfect example of Freud’s “id”:
instinctual urges. If Ahab is the “id”, then most surely Starbuck, the calm and
prudent man with a purpose based in reality must be Freud’s “superego”:
essentially the brake on the “id”. That would leave the mysterious Parsi
Fedallah as Freud’s “ego”: the reality based part of the mind that mediates
between the “id” and the “ego”. And here is where my pet theory breaks down,
for it is certain that Fedallah play a very fuzzy corner in this human triangle
of forces. Ishmael refers on several occasions to Fedallah as Ahab’s ghost;
this suggests a relationship with Ahab certainly, maybe a dark one, but definitely
no role as a mediator between Ahab and Starbuck.
Dropping the Freudian approach, let’s think about Fedallah
as a Parsi. There is meaning in this religious affiliation, but is it
straightforward or an allusion to another theme(s) in the book? Parsi’s are
part of the Zoroastrian religion; a key component of this religion is that the
world is split into two distinct groups: good and evil, light and dark; and
that the good Zoroastrian works for the light/good. There is no part of “Moby
Dick” where Melville makes any reference to Fedallah as agent of good, far from
it. He seems much more like an aspect of Ahab, not of God. He is in some ways a
burnt out husk of a former Ahab. His Zoroastrian references may be solely to
indicate that the world is indeed split into good and bad; but in this
character’s case, as in Ahab’s they most certainly do not necessarily belong to
the side of the “good”.
Better then to focus on Ahab, and Ahab almost alone. For a
book named after a whale, this book really is much more about Ahab and what he
represents; Moby Dick is merely his goal and chosen nemesis, nothing more. We first hear of Ahab from the Quaker
owner of the Pequod when he describes Ahab as a “grand, ungodly, god-like man”.
This is one of the most prophetic lines in the book, because for the first 27
chapters of the book, we will not meet Ahab in person (so to speak). When he
does appear, he is a man larger than life; perhaps god-like to the
impressionable Sailor Ishmael but as he will learn, most definitely godless. Rather,
it appears that Ahab may mistake himself for God. He will speak of himself as
striking the sun, should it insult him. He is largely an unchanging, monotonic
character: a man driven mad apparently by the loss of his leg to the whale Moby
Dick, but in reality to the rage he feels that there is an “inscrutable thing”
that seeks to limit, to control Ahab and his destiny. At times Ahab will
display normal human behavior: he is more than charismatic enough to excite a
worried crew into chasing Moby Dick, and on another occasion he will doubt
himself as in a conversation with Starbuck (the only man to whom Ahab will
speak as a man) he will call himself a fool and wonder aloud at his folly in
spending a life at sea. But these examples of humanity are the exceptions that
prove the rule that Ahab sees himself as one unyielding to man and nature, he
appears mad to all as he seeks to fight the “unconquering whale” that Ahab has
defined as the personification of the “inscrutable force” that he will resist
to his dying breath.
Ahab’s personality (such as it is) leads to one of the many
themes that help define “Moby Dick” as a great book. While Ahab has consigned
himself to perdition in his mad anger at Moby Dick/Nature/God (“…from Hell’s heart
I smite at thee…”), the theme isn’t so much whether Ahab belongs in Hell or
not, but rather the issue of vainglorious Man setting himself up as an equal to
God. And even far more to the point, is the whole concept of identity – is Ahab
a man, or a god? What of the crew: is South Seas harpooner Queequeg, a cannibal
(as Ishamel first thinks when he meets him) or a man, or for that matter, are
all the non-Anglo Saxon members of the crew (and there are many) men or
sub-men? Melville takes great care to very clearly point out early in the book
that Ishmael’s friend Queequeg is more of a civilized man that Ishmael. Is the
issue Queequeg’s identity as a man, or Ishamel’s perception of him as a
cannibal? The other harpooners are a Native American, an African American, and
the non-Christian Parsi Fedallah. Melville makes abundantly clear that these
men hold positions on the ship nearly equal in stature to the ship’s officers;
he is signaling the high functional value of these men that exists despite
their minority status. Deeper down though, it is more than an exploration by
Melville of human political rights, but is instead a definition of humanity, of
identity. These various non-Anglo Saxon/non-Christian men display on many
occasions acts of bravery and selflessness that is not displayed by any of the
WASP members of the crew. What defines these men, their actions or the color of
their skin? Melville may have described Ahab with some ambiguity regarding his
humanity, but there is none for the harpooners excepting Fedallah (he remains
more ghost than man).
To go back to my original question: is this a book for
adolescents? Certainly the lessons contained in the themes (and I have listed
only the primary one of identity – a theme that might also be re-characterized
as perception, for example) are valuable lessons for anyone, adolescent and
older. Still, I have to wonder how well a teenager can pick up on these themes
and techniques. I also have to wonder how many adults are willing to wade
through the language and digressions. But if you are one, then I recommend that
you set aside several days (weeks?) and wade indeed into this book. It is an
example of a book (more so than “Les Miserables”) that every American should
read; partly for the explorations of identity that are so relevant even up to
today, but also for the realization that these issues were so well explored by
an American writer in the middle of the 19th century. For a problem
that might have been solved at our nation’s birth, for one so well explored in
the mid-19th century via a civil war, for the political rights of
every man regardless of color or religion to still be so much in question, that
is an unsolved enigma that would have humbled anyone, including Ahab.
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