Obsession, sea salt, bloodlust and a really annoying whale – that is my synopsis of “Moby Dick” by Herman Melville. Crooked and bent over a carnal thirst for revenge, Captain Ahab leads the crew of the Pequod to their deaths to kill the infamous whale. Tousled at sea while bumbling around the waves completely overwhelmed by fear, claustrophobia and hunger, the crew has every opportunity to turn back until it is too late. As the sea maddens and time becomes disoriented with the mind and body getting sick, logic fades and only one goal remains: this whale has to die. Getting sperm oil has turned to a battle of good and evil.
“Human madness is oftentimes a cunning and most feline thing. When you think it fled, it may have but become transfigured into some still subtler form,” said Herman Melville.
“Moby Dick” has climbed the literary tower to pump a god-like cultural pulse in our society. Whether you know the specifics of the story or not, it is an odyssey and you know the name. This book still shakes me and holds on to me every time I have revisited it. It is a classic for a reason: the writing is beautiful with a fluid weaving of prose and poetry. The plot is iconic with the white whale creeping into our culture as a landmark of our greatest goals. Of a traditional ranking system measuring books from one to ten, “Moby Dick” sits at a 13.
From the first line, the book is just an iconoclast of its genre. Nothing carries the same power; “Call me Ishmael” is emblematic and is the literary equivalent of “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.” In case you have been locked in a basement and do not know anything about “Moby Dick,” it is about a group of men who go on a whaling expedition that goes array after the obsession of Captain Ahab to best the sperm whale, Moby Dick, collapses their ship and results in the deaths of every shipmate besides Ishmael, the trusty narrator.
“Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I’d strike the sun if it insulted me,” says Captain Ahab.
The biblical animosity and lines in this book can only be matched by the Bible itself. Ishmael is the device to narrate, the myriad clan of whalers are the true prizes of the story. Starbuck, Queequeg, Stubb and Daggoo – all of these characters have presence in the pages. In particular, Captain Ahab is so brilliantly written, so powerfully complex that his obsession with Moby Dick reads as poetic even when it welcomes the downfall of every other beloved crew member. The whale, much like “Rosebud” in Citizen Kane, means little at face value. It is a metaphysical pursuit, the embodiment of what Ahab deems as evil. Moby Dick took his leg on a prior exhibition, but this is not just revenge, it seems much more spiritual. Ahab often transcends mortality, feeling like something more ethereal.
“What I’ve dared, I’ve willed; and what I’ve willed, I’ll do! They think me mad — Starbuck does; but I’m demoniac, I am madness maddened!” says Captain Ahab.
While “Moby Dick” is a book about the whaling industry, this is not an obvious fact to take lightly. There are incredibly in depth explanations of the grime and technicalities within the profession to such an extent that reading the entire book should count as an apprenticeship to the field. Do you know about the viscosity, smell and process of extracting spermaceti? Trust, you will. Do you know about the late colonial oil lantern business? Congratulations, upon reading you will receive an honorary history degree. While this can come off boring at times, it immerses the reader into the vat of chronicled timelines and a glimpse into the context of the Pequod’s voyage.
The density of the read is easy to ascertain from the fine print and rambling inner thoughts of Ishmael. It is nonetheless a miracle of writing and a capstone in of itself. It explores the mystery and vastness of the open ocean, which feels like Thoreau at times. “Moby Dick” wanders around the racism of the times through its characters and tackles the psychologies of victims of the seas. It earns its place as a great American novel and earns its place on your bookshelf.
