Classics and the Western Canon discussion
Discussion - Moby Dick
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Week 2 - through Chapter 40
I suspect that most of have a general idea just from being around educated people as to what eventually happens to Captain Ahab, but putting that out of your mind, and looking only at what we have seen of and been told about him so far, if you were a sailor, would you think he would be a good captain to sail with, or a bad one? We have the views of Peleg and Bildad that he is a good captain, and clearly they're willing to entrust their ship, a very valuable asset and source of their wealth, to him. We have the strange mystery of the strange Elijah saying "when Captain Ahab is all right, then this left arm of mine will be all right; not before." And now at least we actually meet, or at least see, Ahab himself.
What thinkest thee of his character now? How dost thed think that original readers meeting Ahab for the first time, with no further knowledge of the book, would at this point have thought of him?
We are starting to get into that part of the book which will certainly make some of us uncomfortable, if not downright squeamish or dismayed or disgusted -- the hunting and killing of whales.Love of, or at least respect and appreciation, for whales has been almost inbred into most of us from our childhoods. Maybe we had Orca whale stuffed toys, we read books about whales, we ... I needn't go on here.
But uncomfortable as it is, I hope we can deal with it as a historical reality now blessedly (except for a few disgusting but fortunately rare examples) ended. Like slavery, like the denial of basic rights to woman, like serfdom, like the Holocaust, there are evils in our historical past which we have learned to discuss even while the very idea that humans could do such things is deeply distressing. As we did with slavery in Huck Finn, I hope that we can deal with whaling, as it appears in this book as something which deeply disturbs us, but which at the same time we need to accept was a normal and generally accepted activity at the time the book was written.
Everyman wrote: "We are starting to get into that part of the book which will certainly make some of us uncomfortable, if not downright squeamish or dismayed or disgusted -- the hunting and killing of whales.Love..."
Everyman, You've raised the point that I was going to make. And so, I will simply ask the question. Can we admire the whale hunters, of the past; who obviously risked their lives, faced harsh conditions, to gain a much used resource, while condemning the industry?
I am really enjoying the characters in this book. Although, I must admit that I got slightly bored in the chapter that lists all the different kinds of whale. Interesting how the characters seemed insistent that the whale was a Fish. Wonder if their was some kind of catharsis for them in this thought? This should prove to be an interesting discussion. I am looking forward to it.
Vikz wrote: " ... I must admit that I got slightly bored in the chapter that lists all the different kinds of whale."
I never expected to find myself laughing in even that seemingly dry chapter, but, amazingly, Melville didn't leave out his sense of humor even there. What fun! And his personal nomenclature and charming description of the "huzza porpoise" is wonderful.
I never expected to find myself laughing in even that seemingly dry chapter, but, amazingly, Melville didn't leave out his sense of humor even there. What fun! And his personal nomenclature and charming description of the "huzza porpoise" is wonderful.
From the "Cetology" chapter:
"From Icelandic, Dutch, and old English authorities, there might be quoted other lists of uncertain whales, blessed with all manner of uncouth names. But I omit them as altogether obsolete; and can hardly help suspecting them for mere sounds, full of Leviathanism, but signifying nothing."
:-)
"From Icelandic, Dutch, and old English authorities, there might be quoted other lists of uncertain whales, blessed with all manner of uncouth names. But I omit them as altogether obsolete; and can hardly help suspecting them for mere sounds, full of Leviathanism, but signifying nothing."
:-)
M wrote: "From the "Cetology" chapter: "From Icelandic, Dutch, and old English authorities, there might be quoted other lists of uncertain whales, blessed with all manner of uncouth names. But I omit them ..."
Yes, I did laugh at that section too. What other parts did you find funny. I am amazed at how funny this novel is. My mom read it at school and always made me shy away from it by saying "that it was the most boring book she had ever read". But, now that I am forced to read it. I am really enjoying the story, the characters and the quiet humour that lies behind it all.
I have no doubt that this group will manage the sensitivities raised by the 19th century practice of whaling. I think it is important to realize that the whaling industry is exactly analogous to the petroleum industry of today. The "modern" world was absolutely dependent on whale oil not only for light but also for a variety of other products; in the same way much oil goes into things like plastic for us.
In short, I don't think the challenge to us is solely one about animal cruelty. It goes all the way back to our discussion of Paradise Lost and the way they exploited the insides of the earth. And it is as contemporary as the ethics of nuclear power.
How good a job does Ishmael do in the chapter The Advocate? In fact, is Ishmael the advocate or is Melville?
The capstone of the argument is actually the next chapter, titled "Postscript." The British editor censored the entire chapter.
In short, I don't think the challenge to us is solely one about animal cruelty. It goes all the way back to our discussion of Paradise Lost and the way they exploited the insides of the earth. And it is as contemporary as the ethics of nuclear power.
How good a job does Ishmael do in the chapter The Advocate? In fact, is Ishmael the advocate or is Melville?
The capstone of the argument is actually the next chapter, titled "Postscript." The British editor censored the entire chapter.
Bill wrote: "In Going Aboard chapter 21. We get a mystery solved and a new one opened up. I was wondering what QQ's god on his head was all about, and it seems the mystery is solved in this chapter.But I'd ..."
Elijah seems to think of Ahab as a god. What that means for him, and whether that Ahab is a god of Canaan or Israel or something else, is more difficult to say. Elijah won't say, but he drops hints.
According to Elijah, Ahab has more "soul" than an average man (drawing on Ch. 19), but he isn't "all right." He calls him "Old Thunder," and mentions "the deadly skrimmage with the Spaniard afore the altar in Santa." To me this sounds like the contest that Elijah arranges between Yahweh and Baal in 1 Kings where Elijah eventually calls down "Old Thunder" and Yahweh prevails. That sounds like Old Testament to me. But then he says that Ahab "lay like dead for three days and nights" and spat into a silver calabash. I don't know about the spitting part, but a silver calabash sounds to me like a chalice, and the three days and nights seems unmistakably Christian.
What we're left with is a shadowy image of power, so it seems right that the next time Elijah appears (in Ch. 21) it is to ask Ishmael and Queequeg if they have seen "anything looking like men going towards that ship" in the mist. Not men, anything looking like men.
Somehow I don't think we're going to understand how all this fits together until later, but at this point I think Elijah wants us to know, at the very least, that Ahab is something more than a mere man.
A thought about Melville's catalogue of the whales: it seems to me that he is following the epic tradition. Homer catalogued the ships, Milton the fallen angels, etc. Even all the "begats" in the Bible, it seems to me, fit in here. Now a question--what, do you suppose, is the purpose of all these lists?
Laurele wrote: "A thought about Melville's catalogue of the whales: it seems to me that he is following the epic tradition. Homer catalogued the ships, Milton the fallen angels, etc. Even all the "begats" in the B..."That's what I was wondering.
Laurele wrote: "A thought about Melville's catalogue of the whales: it seems to me that he is following the epic tradition. Homer catalogued the ships, Milton the fallen angels, etc. Even all the "begats" in the B..."He is also acting like a librarian. Or perhaps a sub-sub Librarian.
Zeke wrote: "I think it is important to realize that the whaling industry is exactly analogous to the petroleum industry of today."That's an excellent point. I was reading Bill Bryson's book At Home, and he makes the same point, writing as I recall (I can't quote exactly because the book is back at the library) about 1852, the year after MD was written. This was still about six or so years before petroleum was discovered. Sperm Oil was, as you say, essential to the modern world, to light (it was a significant step up from rushlights, candles, or firelight), it was a lubricant for the developing Industrial Revolution, and it was essential in other ways.
Perhaps we can understand Melville's defense of whalers if we consider them the 1850 equivalent of oil field roustabouts. You know them, the workers who handle the pipes, drill the wells, get oil splattered all over them when a well comes in, die when it blows up, all very parallel to going after the sperm whale. How many of you have fondness flr or even friendship with roustabouts? How many of you want your sons or daughters to marry roustabouts?
How many of you look on wildcatters, on those who want to drill for oil in ANWAR and off the California costs, on the owners and operators of the Exxon Valdez, or the Deepwater Horizon, with respect and appreciation for their contributions to your life?
Does it make sense that Melville feels the need to defend whalers?
Thanks for 17 Everyman. You really put flesh on my abstraction. The implication of your analogy has to then be extended to the contemporary corollary of the Nantucket Quakers. Not so pretty to think of our Quaker forbears as BP executives.
Bildad in "Merry Christmas" is satirized brilliantly with comments like: "Don't whale it too much a' Lord's days men;but don't miss a fair chance either, that's rejecting Heaven's good gifts."
The Quaker joke used earlier takes on new weight considered in this light. These are not evil men (not so sure about today's plutocrats) but they have put themselves into a moral dilemna.
Bildad in "Merry Christmas" is satirized brilliantly with comments like: "Don't whale it too much a' Lord's days men;but don't miss a fair chance either, that's rejecting Heaven's good gifts."
The Quaker joke used earlier takes on new weight considered in this light. These are not evil men (not so sure about today's plutocrats) but they have put themselves into a moral dilemna.
I'm blown away by this entire section, chapters 21-40. There is just so much to talk about here as we get into the meat of the book at last.
For one thing, what the heck is going on with the narrative structure? From a straightforward first-person narrative told by the personable Ishmael, we take off into a stretch of omniscient 3rd-person narrative, then we're treated to a matching trio of Shakespearean monologues, taking opposing positions. Then we get a sort of musical stage play, complete with stage directions!
And what are we to make of the electrifying chapter with the ironically prosaic name of "The Quarter-Deck": the shocking religious rite served up by the high priest Ahab, with only one person protesting out of the entire crew. I think it is this chapter, rather than when the ship sets out to sea, where the book really takes off.
Meanwhile, our good friend Queequeg barely appears as himself, but only occasionally as one of the exotic trio of harpooners; and even Ishmael is reduced to something of a cipher, barely holding on to a now-intermittent role as our narrator.
Why?
For one thing, what the heck is going on with the narrative structure? From a straightforward first-person narrative told by the personable Ishmael, we take off into a stretch of omniscient 3rd-person narrative, then we're treated to a matching trio of Shakespearean monologues, taking opposing positions. Then we get a sort of musical stage play, complete with stage directions!
And what are we to make of the electrifying chapter with the ironically prosaic name of "The Quarter-Deck": the shocking religious rite served up by the high priest Ahab, with only one person protesting out of the entire crew. I think it is this chapter, rather than when the ship sets out to sea, where the book really takes off.
Meanwhile, our good friend Queequeg barely appears as himself, but only occasionally as one of the exotic trio of harpooners; and even Ishmael is reduced to something of a cipher, barely holding on to a now-intermittent role as our narrator.
Why?
M wrote: "For one thing, what the heck is going on with the narrative structure? From a straightforward first-person narrative told by the personable Ishmael, we take off into a stretch of omniscient 3rd-person narrative, then we're treated to a matching duo of Shakespearean monologues, taking opposing positions. Then we get a sort of musical stage play, complete with stage directions!"
I know. Isn't it wonderful? I listened to these chapters about two weeks ago, but I have started to realized I have to go back to see I'm going to have re-listen or read these chapters again, since the shift in approach isn't quite as obvious in listening mode, and I wonder what else I missed.
Though I'm not sure I'll read chapter 32 again!
Ha! Yeah, maybe once is enough for that chapter. Thankfully, we aren't going to be quizzed on the details. :-D
Everyman wrote: "We are starting to get into that part of the book which will certainly make some of us uncomfortable, if not downright squeamish or dismayed or disgusted -- the hunting and killing of whales.Love..."
Oh it can be hard to set aside our feelings about a difficult topic so that we can appreciate the writing and the characters being developed, but this is how I keep it in perspective.
Whale hunting is not inherently evil. When a whale's death provided food and fuel and shelter for many people and the life of the whale was respected by those who took and consumed that life, there was no evil. The evil is greed. To hunt a whale or any other creature, wasting much of the animal and selling the choicest parts to the highest bidder in a frenzied spiral of overkill into extinction; this is evil.
I think in Ishmael's day, the greed had begun to spread it's poison. So then I start to look at employers and employees. Is an employee considered evil if they happen to support their family by working for a company that expands profits by shrinking safety measures? Or is that employee exempted? Can / do we all work for 'green' companies that donate tons of money to charities?
I strongly recommend rereading much of this book. Now that I'm not so focused on understanding the story and figuring out who's who, I'm having a lot more fun.For example, I loved the final comments of Bildad, I can see him clucking around (or, as Peleg says, palavering) talking about totally unconnected odds and ends like a traveller checking off the final items on a lengthy packing and to-do list before a long trip.
"Don't stave the boats needlessly, ye harpooneers; good white cedar plank is raised full three per cent. within the year. Don't forget your prayers, either. Mr. Starbuck, mind that cooper don't waste the spare staves. Oh! the sail-needles are in the green locker! Don't whale it too much a' Lord's days, men; but don't miss a fair chance either, that's rejecting Heaven's good gifts. Have an eye to the molasses tierce, Mr. Stubb; it was a little leaky, I thought. If ye touch at the islands, Mr. Flask, beware of fornication. Good-bye, good-bye! Don't keep that cheese too long down in the hold, Mr. Starbuck; it'll spoil. Be careful with the butter—twenty cents the pound it was, and mind ye, if—"
What a combination of care for the men and parsimonious penny-pinching!
I'm finding the chapter titles very interesting. Unfortunately, the Shmoop Kindle edition doesn't have them, but the on-line Gutenberg edition does, as do both the paper copies I have. Take Chapter 23, for example, The Lee Shore. When I was young, I was for a time obsessed with sailing ships. I could tell you the difference between a sloop, a schooner, a bark, a brigantine, a snow, etc. I cold box the compass (actually, I still can). I could name all the sails on a full three masted square rigger, from the skysails and top-gallants on down. So I'm having fun reading his nautical language (for example, the "row of teeth" he mentions is the row of belaying-pins which are stuck into holes all along the rail to belay (tie) the halyards, sheets, and lines (ropes) to.
Anyhow: before the days of steam, when ships were totally dependent on wind, getting on a lee shore was a very dangerous proposition. The lee of the boat was the side away from the direction the wind was coming from. If you were on a lee shore, that meant that your were close to the shore where the wind was blowing you dangerously into the shore and the probable shoals and rocks that would destroy your vessel. You had to try to claw, or tack, yourself out of danger, which in a strong wind could be a serious problem, because even as you moved forward the wind was blowing you to leeward. You need to get out to the safety of the open sea, and doing so can be hard and dangerous work.
Now, the Peaquod isn't on or near a lee shore, so the chapter must be referring to a metaphysical or metaphorical lee shore. And indeed, here the lee shore seems to be representative of the dangers to the soul and the need to escape from them into a clearer life, represented by the sea.
"Glimpses do ye seem to see of that mortally intolerable truth; that all deep, earnest thinking is but the intrepid effort of the soul to keep the open independence of her sea; while the wildest winds of heaven and earth conspire to cast her on the treacherous, slavish shore? "
And then, when he adds the following, is he saying that God is the sea? Is that to be the meaning, or one of the meanings, of the sea for this book?
"But as in landlessness alone resides highest truth, shoreless, indefinite as God—so, better is it to perish in that howling infinite, than be ingloriously dashed upon the lee, even if that were safety!"
A very short chapter, but I find lots to think about in it.
The Lee Shore sounds like it could have been written by a fugitive from the law -- home is the one place you can't go when you're on the run. And it reminds me that Ishmael is also running from something. The solid ground may not be as scorching for Ishmael as it is for Bulkington, but it seems to be the source of his "drizzly November of the soul."It just occurred to me (after thinking about Bill's earlier comments about Elijah) that Elijah tells Ishmael that he won't see him soon, "unless it's before the Grand Jury." Could Ishmael actually be a fugitive?
Thomas wrote: "It just occurred to me (after thinking about Bill's earlier comments about Elijah) that Elijah tells Ishmael that he won't see him soon, "unless it's before the Grand Jury." Could Ishmael actually be a fugitive? "I took that to be a reference to Judgment Day. But maybe I was over-reaching?
Everyman wrote: I took that to be a reference to Judgment Day. But maybe I was over-reaching? That was my reading, too.
Everyman wrote: I took that to be a reference to Judgment Day."
So did I, on my first reading. It sounds like a premonition, and perhaps it is. But questions remain: Who is Ishmael (if that is his real name)? What is the cause of his "drizzly November"? Why does he, like Bulkington, need to leave the safety of dry land? I'm not convinced that Ishmael is running from a criminal past or that he harbors some kind of guilt, but it seems a possibility.
FWIW. I like the speculations about Bulkington. There is also a more prosaic explanation for the six inch tombstone. After describing him at some length in a previous chapter, Melville may have realized as he was editing his work that Bulkington had not returned. So this short chapter was inserted to "finish him off" properly and not leave loose ends.
This leads to two serious points:
1. Illustration that an author truly is a Creator. Melville is creating a universe for us in this book and posing all sorts of existential and metaphysical issues.
2. An example of good, creative readers finding more in an incident or character than the author may have intended. And, in so doing, helping to "re-create" the book with each reading.
This leads to two serious points:
1. Illustration that an author truly is a Creator. Melville is creating a universe for us in this book and posing all sorts of existential and metaphysical issues.
2. An example of good, creative readers finding more in an incident or character than the author may have intended. And, in so doing, helping to "re-create" the book with each reading.
Thomas wrote: "The Lee Shore sounds like it could have been written by a fugitive from the law -- home is the one place you can't go when you're on the run. And it reminds me that Ishmael is also running from som..."I took that Grand Jury reference to mean Judgement Day. Anyone else?
CK wrote: "Thomas wrote: "The Lee Shore sounds like it could have been written by a fugitive from the law -- home is the one place you can't go when you're on the run. And it reminds me that Ishmael is also r..."o - sorry - now I see there are already posts to this
Chapter headings. Chapter 23 is the first of several that are styled as stage directions. Enter Ahab; to Him, Stubb. This raises questions for me:
*An allusion to Shakespeare?
*Why here?
*Is the Pequod a stage?
*How is the novel Moby Dick related to the "play?"
*Who is the play's director? Ahab?
*An allusion to Shakespeare?
*Why here?
*Is the Pequod a stage?
*How is the novel Moby Dick related to the "play?"
*Who is the play's director? Ahab?
Ahab desperately, furiously wants to be the director, but he's not; he's stuck in the role of the star player on the stage. The director is God, or fate, but Ahab has no mind to take directions from either.
Bill wrote: "Hey Readers. Whats the spooky thing in the hold of the ship? Its bugging me out a little.Stubbs wonders what Ahab visits there at night. Then as Ahab does his, as M. puts it, shocking religi..."
Maybe there is a connection with those shadowy figures boarding the ship in Ch. 21?
Thomas wrote: "Maybe there is a connection with those shadowy figures boarding the ship in Ch. 21?"
That was my thought, too.
There's a mystery here for sure -- makes want to keep reading to find out what the heck is going on!
I didn't think of it, but I like that idea a lot.
Bill wrote: "Everyman wrote: "And then, when he adds the following, is he saying that God is the sea? Is that to be the meaning, or one of the meanings, of the sea for this book? But as in landlessness alone r..."
He is saying, I think, that God is like the sea in this respect.
M wrote: "Ahab desperately, furiously wants to be the director, but he's not; he's stuck in the role of the star player on the stage. The director is God, or fate, but Ahab has no mind to take directions fro..."Oh, good, M!
My re-reading, slow because I'm also reading the next installment, has gotten to Chapter 24, The Advocate. On my first reading, I had taken this mostly at face value. This time, I am seeing is as both serious and incredibly funny. The idea of putting S.W.F. on a calling card is a riot. The implicit comparison of Ahab, Bildad, Peleg, et. al. with Nelson, John Paul Jones, Washington, et. al. is just plain hilarious.
The point about the whalemen opening the world is quite valid, but some of his examples are LOL, claiming credit for "liberation of Peru, Chili, and Bolivia from the yoke of Old Spain," and being the true mother of Australia. Though I'm not sure the Polynesians will do homage to the whalers for bringing the Christian missionaries to their shores. Did they really appreciate the Mother Hubbard?
And that the very heavens show the dignity of whaling because a constellation in the Southern hemisphere is named the fish? Is furniture to be honored because there is a constellation showing a chair?
And finally, I loved this: "Drive down your hat in presence of the Czar, and take it off to Queequeg!" What an image -- in the presence of royalty keep your hat firmly planted on your head, but when you meet Queequeg on the street, doff it to him in honor. Delightful!
Everyman wrote: "I'm finding the chapter titles very interesting. Unfortunately, the Shmoop Kindle edition doesn't have them, but the on-line Gutenberg edition does, as do both the paper copies I have. Take Cha..."
I absolutely loved that chapter. In spite of its shortness I found some of the imagers and descriptions it provided to be profound, as well as truly beautiful, almost poetic writing.
I loved this paragrah
When on that shivering winter's night, the Pequod thrust her vindictive bows into the cold malicious waves, who should I see standing at her helm but Bulkington! I looked with sympathetic awe and fearfulness upon the man, who in mid-winter just landed from a four years' dangerous voyage, could so unrestingly push off again for still another tempestuous term. The land seemed scorching to his feet. Wonderfullest things are ever the unmentionable; deep memories yield no epitaphs; this six-inch chapter is the stoneless grave of Bulkington. Let me only say that it fared with him as with the storm-tossed ship, that miserably drives along the leeward land. The port would fain give succor; the port is pitiful; in the port is safety, comfort, hearthstone, supper, warm blankets, friends, all that's kind to our mortalities. But in that gale, the port, the land, is that ship's direst jeopardy; she must fly all hospitality; one touch of land, though it but graze the keel, would make her shudder through and through. With all her might she crowds all sail off shore; in so doing, fights 'gainst the very winds that fain would blow her homeward; seeks all the lashed sea's landlessness again; for refuge's sake forlornly rushing into peril; her only friend her bitterest foe!
I just finished reading Chapter 24 The Advocate and Ch. 25 Post Script in which Ishamel launches into a monologue defending the nobility of whaling alluding to criticism against the trade. I was made curious by this, and wondered if at the time in which Melville wrote this story it marked any sort of turning point or shift in the whaling industry or views upon it, though I could find no evidence to support the fact that at this time, there really were any wide spread views in criticism against whaling, which made me wonder, why did Melville feel this chapter was important to include within the story? Though I suppose even if there is no real documented evidence that there were feelings against whaling, Melville could have been privy to such opinions people may have had. Or was it simply his wish in this way to try and paint a glorified portrait of the "nobility" of the industry. I know this story deals a lot with the idea of prejudices, and perceptions which people have, as displayed in the allusions made to religion within the book, and the first impressions Ishmel has of QQ only to establish a close bond with him.
Is Melville trying to address prejudices which people might have held of Whalers based on their overall appearance?
Bill wrote: "Silver wrote: "Ishmael's character. Ishmael is a proud whaler. To the degree that whalers thought about their place in the world--this is possibly how many of them felt. This is typical of many people proud of their occupations. They have more a tendency to exaggerate their importance then to underestimate it...."I think another interesting thing about this, is the fact that I cannot help but find it somewhat amusing that up to this point Ishmael is not truly a whaler, they have barely even began to ship off to sea, and he has had zero experiences with the trade thus far and yet he is already speaking as if he is indeed some seasoned veteran and weaving this somewhat romantic view of whaling.
I wonder what this says about Ishmael's character, the way in which we do know he often does go out to see upon a whim to escape his life, and has suddenly taken it in his head to try whaling, and he is already so enthusiastic about it that he is prepared to defend tooth and nail, even when there perhaps may not in fact actually be a need to defend it.
Is Ishmael trying to paint himself as a sort of hero figure?
Bill wrote: "I think it's an interesting question as well as to the reason for this chapter in the novel. How does Melville see this contributing to the story?"I am getting the feeling that this is going to wind up being more than a story, that Melville intends it to be more than that, though so far it's looking like it's going to be a good sea tale. But if Melville has other goals in addition to telling a good story, as has been asked already, what goals, and why?
I know that Melville had taken several voyages as a crew member himself, including on at least two whalers. But why he decided to use his novel to get into such issues as an apology for whalers, a study of whales, etc. isn't clear to me yet (but there's lots of the book yet to go.)
An aside: I just discovered that Melville was the first author collected and published by the Library of America. Quite an honor!
Everyman wrote: "An aside: I just discovered that Melville was the first author collected and published by the Library of America. Quite an honor!"I am really not surprised, Everyman. I certainly would see him in the pantheon of great American writers with the likes of Cather, Wharton, Dickinson, Whitman, Hawthorne, Emerson, and Thoreau.
Despite the novel's clear allegory, I think Melville's purpose in writing the chapters regarding the whales themselves were either out of genuine interest and the want to enlighten the public on their true nature or to add more depth to the story, I can't see it tying in with the rest of the novel in any sort of profound way.
Silver wrote: "I just finished reading Chapter 24 The Advocate and Ch. 25 Post Script in which Ishamel launches into a monologue defending the nobility of whaling alluding to criticism against the trade. I was ma..."I think Ishmael's defense is not so much of the whaling industry as of the individual seamen. To be a crew member has never been an occupation that gains the sort of respect that is given to soldiers and finaciers and scientists.
To me this ties in with the comparisons between Ishmael and Bulk'. I's burning need to go to sea on a whaler is about giving his life some meaning and purpose. By defending whalers to the reader, he is defending his own choice to himself.
I want to put in a vote for The Masthead (Chapter 35) as one of my favorite chapters in the book. For me, it is a nice combination of character, philosophy and humor.
Ishmael warns Nantucket owners to be careful about hiring on young men who carry Plato instead of Bowditch (New American Practical Navigator). He spends his watch philosophizing, but also notes that a slip of hand or foot quickly reminds him quickly of his identity.
Ishmael warns Nantucket owners to be careful about hiring on young men who carry Plato instead of Bowditch (New American Practical Navigator). He spends his watch philosophizing, but also notes that a slip of hand or foot quickly reminds him quickly of his identity.
As far as the chapters on whale classification, etc. are concerned, I think it's important to remember that information wasn't as easily accessible in the 19th century as it is now. If we're curious to see what a 19th century whaling ship looked like, we can look it up on Google Images. We can look up common whaling practices and the sperm whale on Wikipedia. Melville's original readers didn't have this luxury. If they were to have anything like an accurate idea of these things, Melville had to tell them himself. And I get the impression that Melville wanted them to be able to understand what he was talking about. It reminds me of times when people have asked me how to play a certain chord, and I've responded, not with an answer to their question, but with a lecture on tonal harmony.
I haven't actually caught up on the reading yet, but I'm getting there.
Regarding a question from the early posts, Were the whalers to be admired?
Absolutely. They were men willing to put their lives on the line. Perhaps the adventure aspect drew some men, but also, these were men who hoped to advance themselves economically. Some men worked their way up the hierarchy of the boats. Some made a financial reward thru their shares. The New England area involved in whaling (per wikipedia. see resources.) wasn't suited for farming. The whaling brought in money---supporting sailers, widows, orphans, businesses. Wikipedia said that the industrial revolution wouldn't have been possible at this time without the whale oil to lubricate the machinery.
As one of the early posts pointed out, people needed the oil for light. We use way more energy now than we did then. I've got my lights on and the frig is plugged in and I use my computer every single day and you would be hard pressed to convince me that I should stop driving the car and I wouldn't want to give any of that up.
Again, as posted by someone earlier, look at the pros and cons of energy. Oil..coal...nuclear. (Aside: The fact that prett much everything comes with a downside that we don't want...almost always now reminds me of The Brothers Karamazov.)
I haven't yet got to a description of the killing and processing of whales. Perhaps one of Melville's goals was to make people aware that the oil, etc, they were using came at a cost. Yes, like pretty much everything does. We use stuff all the time without knowing what it costs, really. Maybe we would more appreciate what we have if we knew the effort, lives, etc. that were required to obtain it.
Regarding a question from the early posts, Were the whalers to be admired?
Absolutely. They were men willing to put their lives on the line. Perhaps the adventure aspect drew some men, but also, these were men who hoped to advance themselves economically. Some men worked their way up the hierarchy of the boats. Some made a financial reward thru their shares. The New England area involved in whaling (per wikipedia. see resources.) wasn't suited for farming. The whaling brought in money---supporting sailers, widows, orphans, businesses. Wikipedia said that the industrial revolution wouldn't have been possible at this time without the whale oil to lubricate the machinery.
As one of the early posts pointed out, people needed the oil for light. We use way more energy now than we did then. I've got my lights on and the frig is plugged in and I use my computer every single day and you would be hard pressed to convince me that I should stop driving the car and I wouldn't want to give any of that up.
Again, as posted by someone earlier, look at the pros and cons of energy. Oil..coal...nuclear. (Aside: The fact that prett much everything comes with a downside that we don't want...almost always now reminds me of The Brothers Karamazov.)
I haven't yet got to a description of the killing and processing of whales. Perhaps one of Melville's goals was to make people aware that the oil, etc, they were using came at a cost. Yes, like pretty much everything does. We use stuff all the time without knowing what it costs, really. Maybe we would more appreciate what we have if we knew the effort, lives, etc. that were required to obtain it.
Bill wrote: reqarding Elijah...the dimness...the shadows...he had asked what other readers thoughts were on this
Bill, I believe there is a reason, a purpose...I haven't been quite able to articulate it to myself yet. Hope to eventually.
Bill, I believe there is a reason, a purpose...I haven't been quite able to articulate it to myself yet. Hope to eventually.
Adelle, I agree with the thrust of your post. I think that the Wikipedia take is a bit misleading however. According to Eric J. Dolan in Leviathan: The History of Whaling in America the explosion in whaling led to a serious labor shortage. However, this led not to improved wages but to recruiting people more desperate for any kind of work--even the brutal dangerous job of seaman on a whaling ship.
By the way, I think there is a direct analogy in contemporary America. Chicken and beef processing are among the most dangerous jobs there are. They are not filled by upwardly mobile people being paid what they are worth.
As Dolin puts it the owners "were often forced to take what they could get, which was usually green hands who were not infrequently some combination of penniless, delinquent or drunk."
In 1836 a Nantucket newspaper fulminated, "The whale fishery shall not be converted into a mere engine for the repair of cracked reputations and the chastisement of those against the reception of whom even the jail doors revolt."
The officers, of course, continued to be from white New England stock. However, the crews, like that of the Pequod were increasingly polyglot. As one observer aptly noted, "A more heterogeneous group of men has never been assembled in so small a space than is found in the forecastle of a New Bedford whaler."
I believe Adelle is really on to something and we should watch closely the dialectic between officers and crew as the book continues.
By the way, I think there is a direct analogy in contemporary America. Chicken and beef processing are among the most dangerous jobs there are. They are not filled by upwardly mobile people being paid what they are worth.
As Dolin puts it the owners "were often forced to take what they could get, which was usually green hands who were not infrequently some combination of penniless, delinquent or drunk."
In 1836 a Nantucket newspaper fulminated, "The whale fishery shall not be converted into a mere engine for the repair of cracked reputations and the chastisement of those against the reception of whom even the jail doors revolt."
The officers, of course, continued to be from white New England stock. However, the crews, like that of the Pequod were increasingly polyglot. As one observer aptly noted, "A more heterogeneous group of men has never been assembled in so small a space than is found in the forecastle of a New Bedford whaler."
I believe Adelle is really on to something and we should watch closely the dialectic between officers and crew as the book continues.
Laurele wrote: "A thought about Melville's catalogue of the whales: it seems to me that he is following the epic tradition. Homer catalogued the ships, Milton the fallen angels, etc. Even all the "begats" in the B..What do you suppose the purpose of the lists is."
Laurele, I'm only partially thru that chapter. (We're talking Chapter 32, "Cetology," right?)
I loved how the chapter opened. "Already we are boldly [BOLDLY!] launched upon the deep..." (146).
I really liked your remark about the begets in the Bible.
Now, I'm going to flail about here, but Everyman seems to think that that's the only way I'm going to learn to swim. (Swimming probably being important when one is on a boat on open seas.)
It seems to me that this chapter knits together a bit of the Bible, and the bits at the beginning of Moby Dick.
[1]In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.
[2]And the earth was without form perhaps it could be described as chaos , and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of the God moved upon the face of the waters.
...
[5] And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night.
So here's Melville referencing "the deep." Melville further writes regarding “the classification of the constituents of a chaos..."
Five verses into Genesis, God apparently feels the need to start labeling things. Maybe He's labeling for Himself. Maybe he's showing man how to do it.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. John 1:1.
I don’t know about Paleolithic man, but modern man can only manipulate knowledge and build on knowledge and organize knowledge if he has words to designate items, and has words and categories that help him differentiate Item A from Item B. (the light, Day; and the darkness, Night.)
God might know the “essence” of things without benefit of words, the truth of unlabeled things, the location of un-mapped islands, but man—for himself---needs words; man—to share his thoughts with others—needs words.
Interesting… Queegueg and Ishmael … their jointly understood word-base is small…but absolutely necessary. If we have words, and we do, diverse people can make the effort to understand one another and one another’s point of view.
Maybe in way we’re all sub-sub librarians for God. “…though of real knowledge there be little, yet of books there are a plenty;” (146).
I don’t see how this really relates to Ahab… but it’s what I’ve written in the margins.
Man, like God, needs to bring order out of chaos.
And the list… on one level, in explaining the terms, the narrator goes a long ways towards letting us share the journey with him.
On another level, writing lists makes us think that what we (sub-sub librarians) know is important. And of course we want to be important. And it keeps us busy on a surface level so we don’t have to ponder deeper truths.
On another level, the narrator puts some effort into describing how various creatures can be labeled according to how they look. But---a whale ISN’T a fish…so maybe Melville is pointing out the inherent danger/sloppiness of ascribing “the truth” to what we see.
On another level, perhaps Melville is pointing out the monstrous egotism of man. Here’s this lovely, long list describing this creature as a Sperm Whale and that creature as a Right Whale…so now, that’s what they are…and the names mean nothing whatsoever to the creatures in question…and changes their essence not an iota.
Laurele, I'm only partially thru that chapter. (We're talking Chapter 32, "Cetology," right?)
I loved how the chapter opened. "Already we are boldly [BOLDLY!] launched upon the deep..." (146).
I really liked your remark about the begets in the Bible.
Now, I'm going to flail about here, but Everyman seems to think that that's the only way I'm going to learn to swim. (Swimming probably being important when one is on a boat on open seas.)
It seems to me that this chapter knits together a bit of the Bible, and the bits at the beginning of Moby Dick.
[1]In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.
[2]And the earth was without form perhaps it could be described as chaos , and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of the God moved upon the face of the waters.
...
[5] And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night.
So here's Melville referencing "the deep." Melville further writes regarding “the classification of the constituents of a chaos..."
Five verses into Genesis, God apparently feels the need to start labeling things. Maybe He's labeling for Himself. Maybe he's showing man how to do it.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. John 1:1.
I don’t know about Paleolithic man, but modern man can only manipulate knowledge and build on knowledge and organize knowledge if he has words to designate items, and has words and categories that help him differentiate Item A from Item B. (the light, Day; and the darkness, Night.)
God might know the “essence” of things without benefit of words, the truth of unlabeled things, the location of un-mapped islands, but man—for himself---needs words; man—to share his thoughts with others—needs words.
Interesting… Queegueg and Ishmael … their jointly understood word-base is small…but absolutely necessary. If we have words, and we do, diverse people can make the effort to understand one another and one another’s point of view.
Maybe in way we’re all sub-sub librarians for God. “…though of real knowledge there be little, yet of books there are a plenty;” (146).
I don’t see how this really relates to Ahab… but it’s what I’ve written in the margins.
Man, like God, needs to bring order out of chaos.
And the list… on one level, in explaining the terms, the narrator goes a long ways towards letting us share the journey with him.
On another level, writing lists makes us think that what we (sub-sub librarians) know is important. And of course we want to be important. And it keeps us busy on a surface level so we don’t have to ponder deeper truths.
On another level, the narrator puts some effort into describing how various creatures can be labeled according to how they look. But---a whale ISN’T a fish…so maybe Melville is pointing out the inherent danger/sloppiness of ascribing “the truth” to what we see.
On another level, perhaps Melville is pointing out the monstrous egotism of man. Here’s this lovely, long list describing this creature as a Sperm Whale and that creature as a Right Whale…so now, that’s what they are…and the names mean nothing whatsoever to the creatures in question…and changes their essence not an iota.
Zeke wrote: "Adelle, I agree with the thrust of your post. I think that the Wikipedia take is a bit misleading however. According to Eric J. Dolan in Leviathan: The History of Whaling in America the explosion ..."
Zeke, I really appreciate the additional information. Made me think back to the fact that Ishmael wasn't even being paid a wage. 'Though the business itself would bring income into the whaling towns, and some people would become wealthy... and at least there is a little sustanence for the widows and orphans.... still, the low-crew itself must have been desparately poor. Signing on for shares (lays?) might have been somewhat akin to the poor buying lotto tickets. Maybe, maybe, maybe this will be my lucky break.
Zeke, I really appreciate the additional information. Made me think back to the fact that Ishmael wasn't even being paid a wage. 'Though the business itself would bring income into the whaling towns, and some people would become wealthy... and at least there is a little sustanence for the widows and orphans.... still, the low-crew itself must have been desparately poor. Signing on for shares (lays?) might have been somewhat akin to the poor buying lotto tickets. Maybe, maybe, maybe this will be my lucky break.
All the crew have staggered aboard. Charity has made her final visit (a night-cap for Stubb, a spare Bible for the steward -- providing for both body and soul), the tent is struck, and we're off. A'whaling we will go.