He lay on the top bunk, reading for his English class. Moby-Dick. “How can you read and talk at the same time?” I asked. “Well, I usually can’t, but neither the book nor the conversation is particularly intellectually challenging.” “I like that book,” Alaska said. “Yes.” The Colonel smiled and leaned over to look at her from his top bunk. “You would. Big white whale is a metaphor for everything. You live for pretentious metaphors.”
I don't love Moby Dick but I cannot abide John fucking Green attempting to dunk on it.
