Retellings/Reimaginings are difficult undertakings because it is only when the two are skillfully blended together that the magic happens; if the scales are tipped either way the narrative derails and loses its chance of that magic. It can become a simple retelling (e.g. just changing the names of the established characters) and parroting the narrative of the source novel. Or, if the scales are tipped too much toward a reimagining, the narrative strays so far from the original story that the power of those connecting threads to its inspiration is lost – the story becomes unmoored, and both novel and reader lose their way, no longer able to see, feel, and appreciate that connection.
This year, I have read 3 novels that take on this challenge. In Percival Everett’s James, we have an excellent example of a successful blending of reimagining and retelling. It takes the story of Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer, changes the viewpoint to Jim, and in the course of doing so, Everett greatly expands and adds a layered depth to that world, and its world view, while still keeping its connecting threads to the original narrative. It is a masterful accomplishment of a very difficult undertaking.
In Empusium, Olga Tokarczuk takes on the powerful Magic Mountain, the story of the slow indoctrination of a young man into the hive mind of the sanitorium to which he has come to battle tuberculosis. It mirrors the insidious and ultimately catastrophic hive mind that evolved during the current events of that time. In her own novel, Tokarczuk does a creditable job of balancing retelling with reimagining, applying a different and interesting take on this slow indoctrination. Where her novel went wrong for me is that she failed to build that tension, the insidious force of the hive mind lurking below the surface of her narrative and thread it through her narrative. The “clues” are much too subtle and too disconnected to inspire dread or unease in the reader – there is no building of tension lurking beneath the surface. Indeed, the explosion of that hive mind only occurs in the final section of the book. The final course of events is imaginative yes; but it is an issue of too much too late. The reader has had no real opportunity to become invested in her reimagining until the end. So, for me, the book did not succeed. I felt instead that I had read an unsuccessful attempt to tap into the talents of Shirley Jackson – would have been more than ok with me.
Which brings me to Call Me Ishmaelle by Xiaolu Guo.
An excerpt from a book description reads as follows: “Call Me Ishmaelle reimagines the epic battle between man and nature in Herman Melville’s Moby Dick from a female perspective.”
I really wanted to read that book.
Taking on Herman Melville’s Moby Dick is a bold and daunting task. This epic is Biblical, Wagnerian and Shakespearean in scope, all of which Melville was able to capture within the confines of a lone whaling ship battling and surviving in the swirling immensity of forces of nature it cannot control nor adequately defend itself from. It is one of my favorite books.
I was truly fascinated at the idea of an intrepid female, one with an intense passion for the sea, casting her fate to the winds, letting nothing get in her way, disguising herself as young boy, and signing on board a whaling ship knowing she would be at sea for 2 years. I wanted to immerse myself in experiencing that powerful story from a woman’s point of view…almost like being a fly on the wall, observing the entirely male, epic drama play out.
Unfortunately, this is not what actually happens.
That is not to say that I didn’t enjoy many parts of the narrative. The author has a rather charming, simplistic prose style (or it may just be a result of the translation). This style works very well in what I would call the non-action sections of the novel. I enjoyed the initial chapters where we learn a little about Ishmaelle. I appreciated Guo’s nod to the Shakespearian elements of the original…the “setting of scenes”, the internal reveries of the captain and other crew members; reveries which, if created for the stage, would be spoken soliloquies. The Ishmaelle dream sequences were indeed dreamy and sometimes surreal, the simple prose became almost lyrical. The descriptions of some of the island ports, looking for herbs, the workings of maintaining a ship, washing sails, making ropes, where one sleeps and under what conditions…all of these sections are very well done, were interesting to me and kept me invested in those moments.
Where the prose proved itself to be inadequate was the moment the whaling vessels were dropped into the sea and the chase for whales began. The intensity and energy of the original narrative was totally absent. The descriptions of the chases, small whaling vessels being smashed and broken, the loss of life; it was all told in such a flat, matter of fact, emotionless manner. In those sections, the book goes full into retelling mode, reading like an overly simplified, parroted and ultimately lifeless version of the masterful original.
I had other issues with the book. Ishmaelle goes to sea. Why? Why does she decide suddenly to board a vessel bound for America? The explanation that we are given is that she has developed quite a crush on a ship’s captain she met while exploring the docks.
But what really disappointed me was that the author didn’t really provide us with any depth to Ishmaelle. She exhibits no deep passion for the sea or for adventure. She is not portrayed as an intrepid explorer who is willing to cast her fate to the winds to pursue her dreams for new challenges and experiences. She provides no female or feminist perspective. Outside of the whale chases, Ishamaelle’s interior thoughts are primarily focused on making sure no one finds out she is female, and the most that is done with this subject is that she is mainly worried about secretively using the head and hiding her periods. In those moments where we could have really gotten to peel back the layers of her character, all we are met with is a young, fearful girl. Understandable, but we can’t get past that layer to see if there are any more layers to be found. She doesn’t take the experiences and make them her own; instead, she drifts through them. And then, toward the end, all of a sudden, she takes the lead in commanding one of the whaling boats during the final chase for the white whale?
I was disappointed that she was eventually exposed as female, and in the most predictable and degradable way possible. There were so many other ways to have accomplished this, but my question is: why expose her at all? Why not let her continue in her disguise and continue the narrative in a more consistent and empowering way? Why not let her keep her female power intact and under her control? For a book that describes itself as providing a feminist viewpoint, this course of events went off the rails for me.
Ishmaelle focuses a lot on the men continuing to call her Ishmael instead of Ishmaelle after they learn her gender. I didn’t find this particularly compelling. These men are hungry, tired and scared. Their captain is a madman; they are convinced they will not survive. Delving into the niceties of her name is hardly something they would focus on. They have called her Ishmael for months; the female derivation is closely similar. It appears that the men have been the ones who have progressed in their thinking. She is a team member, that’s what they think of her as. She is an equal. Is this perhaps what the book description is talking about? It may well be, but I didn’t get a strong impression of that.
I did find the introduction of a Taoist monk, who uses the I-Ching as a divination tool for the captain, an interesting addition to the narrative and I enjoyed how, in true Shakespearean manner, it served as a series of ominous portents that the captain, in the utter throes of his madness, ultimately ignored, thus sealing his fate and all those around him.
I also appreciated that Captain Seneca is a black man. He tragically lost his leg to the white whale, returns home, marries, only to face evil once more when his wife betrays their marriage, giving birth to a white child, a son to a white man he knows. In his tortured mind, this betrayal, the whiteness of it becomes a second evil in his life, and he becomes once more obsessed with destroying the white evil that he blames for all the events that followed in his life. I appreciated the subtlety of how Guo approached and embedded those themes in the narrative.
In addition to the I-Ching, I enjoyed the other magical elements of the novel; the slow bonding between whale and Ishmaelle. She dreams of whales, even observing a female giving birth and sensing its pain. That bonding between females (whale and human) during such a moving and powerful moment –– I loved that. And when Ishmaelle hears the great white whale, always sensing his presence, communing with him, bonding with him. I found myself wishing Guo had pushed the envelope by reimagining Moby Dick as female, intensifying the bond between females, while at the same time serving as a cohesive fuel for the Seneca’s rage…his wife’s betrayal with a white man, the loss of his leg, fusing a hatred of that white man and a betraying female into one white female creature. I would have loved that additional connection between Moby Dick and Ishmaelle. I mean, while you are reimagining, and you want these female elements, then lean into it and really go there. Why not?
I have heard this book described as one that explores gender, gender blending, queerish, feminist. I have seen the character Ishmaelle described as being “inimitable”. I personally found none of these elements in the book. Broken down, what we have here is a young girl who, for rather confusing reasons, decides to go to sea and wears boy’s clothes in order to accomplish this. She doesn’t wear those clothes because wearing male clothing makes her feel complete or whole in some way. She doesn’t express enjoyment that she feels more at home in that guise or that she identifies in a more male way. That persona doesn’t make her feel empowered – quite the opposite. In fact, she does everything she can to hide her gender right up until when it is ripped away from her. It is simply a means to an end and nothing more. There are literally hundreds of books, plays, operas (including historical accounts) that have been using this device for hundreds of years. And now we have one more. The author does attempt to introduce gender blending very late in the novel, but Ishmaelle rather suddenly referring to herself as Ishmael/elle or he/she isn’t convincing. And at the very end of the novel, back in Kent, she sheds the Ishmael persona, becoming firmly Ishmaelle. Or does she?
Because, one could say that at the end, Ishmaelle, within her innermost self, is not human female. And she has not become human male. Instead, she has become whale. Her transformation has come about through bonding with the whales in the story. She feels their presence, she understands their thoughts. She feels at one with them. She identifies with them.
The author introduced some fascinating and original ideas in Call Me Ishmaelle – I just wish she had leaned into them more.
Overall, despite my issues, I enjoyed the novel and would recommend it to those who enjoy Guo’s writing (I intend to read more of her) and as a very basic outline to Melville’s truly great novel.
I want to thank NetGalley and the publisher for an advance copy in exchange for an honest review.