Ur-Texts: Moby-Dick III

 I finished "Moby-Dick" a few days ago, and my reflections will be brief, as I am already deep into the next of my Ur-Texts.

My first reaction upon finishing is that "Moby-Dick" is infinitely more fun the second time around. The expectation of a rip-roaring whaling yarn safely removed by my first reading, I found myself enjoying the frequent philosophical digressions, unprompted shifts in point-of-view, and the strange Shakespearean monologues that make "Moby-Dick" such an unconventional and difficult read.

Much of this book's effect on me comes from my powerful, hands-on experience first reading it at the Mystic Seaport Museum. Some of it also comes from the aforementioned philosophical digressions. "Moby-Dick" is, among many other things, a meditation on the ineffable. My favorite of the book's metaphors is the flat front of the head of the sperm whale: "gazing on it, in that full front view, you feel the Deity and the dread powers more forcibly than in beholding any other object in living nature" (Ch. 79).

This contemplation of the mysterious things in the world is something that I, as a person of faith, value greatly, and feel is often overlooked today. I close with a few quotes from the great book, and an exhortation to read it yourself.

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"There are some enterprises in which a careful disorderliness is the true method." - Ch. 82

"You have seen him spout; then declare what the spout is; can you not tell water from air? My dear sir, in this world it is not so easy to settle these plain things. I have ever found your plain things the knottiest of all." - Ch. 85

"An allegorical meaning may lurk here." - Ch. 90

"Book! You lie there; the fact is, you books must know your places. You'll do to give us the bare words and facts, but we come in to supply the thoughts." - Ch. 99

It's Been Awhile...

...but I'm almost done with Moby-Dick, on schedule to finish before both Heather's arrival and the beginning of spring. I will post on it soon.

In other news, my workplace has started a blog, and I wrote for it today.

Ur-Texts: Moby-Dick II

"All these things are not without their meanings."
-- Moby-Dick; or, The Whale, Chapter 7, The Chapel

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"Moby-Dick" is the most recently re-read of the books on my ur-texts list. I finished it for the first time in the fall of 2008; being no wine connoisseur, I will not fine the book for its recent vintage. Taken in another light, though, this a book of oldest vintage; published in 1851, it has only "The Practice of the Presence of God" (set down in the 17th century) to compete with on the aforementioned list.

A large part of this book's impact on me is contextual, in particular, due to the location in which I read; namely, at the Mystic Seaport Museum and at sea. I studied in an undergraduate program at the museum that involved reading "Moby-Dick." Figuring that I would never be motivated to read such a tome without the prodding of the academy, I signed up. 

Reading "Moby-Dick" at the museum almost guarantees a love for the book. I read chapters in all parts of the Charles W. Morgan, a ship built in the same year as and across the river from the Acushnet, the ship Melville sailed in during the trip that inspired "Moby-Dick." I read out on the head rig of the SSV Corwith Cramer as dolphins swam by underneath. I read in my bunk when the raising of the anchor chain kept me from sleeping.

Additionally, the museum is where Barry Moser came to do research for the illustrations in the University of California edition. The whaleboat, the try-works and, most often encountered in my twice-weekly visits to the blacksmith's shop, the harpoons are all familiar friends. As a museum collections intern, I was able to cross the ropes and touch (for inventory purposes, of course) pretty much anything on the museum's grounds.

So how could I not be affected by "Moby-Dick"?

p.s. The first three sentences contain semicolons not only for their punctuational value, but as an homage to Melville.

p.p.s. My classmates and I participated in a dramatic re-enactment of excerpts from "Moby-Dick." Watch highlights here, featuring me as Ishmael, in bed with Queequeg and as Tashtego, going overboard.

Ur-Texts: Moby-Dick

"I have swum through libraries and sailed through oceans; I have had to do with whales with these visible hands; I am in earnest; and I will try."
-- Moby-Dick; or, The Whale, Chapter 32, "Cetology"

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A few notes on "Moby-Dick": I was hoping to title my blog posts on this book using chapter headings from the novel itself, but my desire for consistency in blogging (in all things, really) has led me to title this post not "Loomings," but "Ur-Texts: Moby-Dick."

Yes, the book's title includes the hyphen, and the full official title is "Moby-Dick; or, The Whale." Melville demonstrates his love for semicolons from the get go.

And though it has one of the most famous opening lines in all of literature (see the page above, excerpted from the beautifully illustrated University of California edition), "Moby-Dick" does not actually begin with "Call me Ishmael." Instead, it begins with a less-than-accurate etymology of the word "whale," followed by an introduction "supplied by a sub-sub-librarian" entitled "Extracts," consisting of quotes regarding whales from sources as multifarious as the Bible, "'Something' unpublished," Darwin's "Voyage of a Naturalist," and a few whaling songs. In my edition (the aforementioned University of California printing) the extracts take up six pages. Only then are we invited to call him Ishmael.

There is much more to say about this book, and about my re-reading of it as a part of my ur-texts project, but this is a blog, not an American antebellum metaphysical sea novel, so I will curtail my musings here for now.

(Call Me?) Ishmael

Even in these post-shoulder-length-hair days of mine, haircuts are not a common occurrence. But yesterday, I walked around the corner to Thomson's Barber Shop (no website or Googlemaps listing; it's at Penn and Kelker streets, if you're curious). I pass by Thomson's often: it is at the corner where I turn right to go to work, or left to go to Alvaro's for cheap pizza and delicious homemade bread.

Thomson's features a beautiful little stoop and, on the glass doors, the legend "No Hanging Out."

Yet every time I walk or bike past Thomson's, there are folks hanging out on the stoop. This encouraged me -- people sticking it to the man in the smallest and most meaningful of ways: by co-opting His space for personal connections. So it surprised me to learn that one of the regulars on Thomson's stoop is Terry Thomson himself.

It was my first time in, so I didn't ask about his paradoxical signage. I mostly just sat, listening to him banter with the other barber in the shop. He took a small, thin trimmer to the edges of my hairline, giving me a "lineup." As he moved down to lineup my sideburns, he said "You wanna keep that Ishmael?"

I wasn't sure what he meant. And had he said "You wanna keep that Ishmael?" or "You wanna keep that, Ishmael?"

Then I realized he was talking about my beard, and I told him that yes, I would be keeping it. But the mystery remains: was Ishmael a colloquialism for "beard," or had he given me an impromptu nickname?

Needless to say, I would be pleased and honored to be nicknamed after Melville's enigmatic, unreliable narrator, but I would also be pleased to refer to my beard as an ishmael. 

My Favorite Things I: Books

In one of my first posts on this blog, I mentioned that, counter to a cultural trend of ambiguity and inability (or lack of desire) to name favorites, I like being able to have a favorite thing in a category. Sometimes I don't, and sometimes those favorite things come with a lot of disclaimers, but I like being able to note that I prefer certain things. That gives you 1) more of a sense of who I am in terms of my media preferences, and 2) new media products to enjoy (assuming my media preferences align somehow with yours. This is not so straightforward--I have plenty of people who I love and respect from whom I will never take movie/music/book recommendations). So this is the first in a multi-part series on my favorite things. Each post, I'll present five of my favorites within a certain category. Today's category: books.

I chose five of each because five is such a nice number (I do not think, however, that five is my favorite number. Not something I often think about). Also because I don't want to have to choose one of each. The lists are ranked alphabetically, not by preference. Because this post is called "my favorite things," do yourself a favor and listen to the John Coltrane Quartet recording of the song of the same name (yes, the one from The Sound of Music. Shoutout to Bryn Mawr's Mike Tratner, whose ringtone is that recording).

Books

Cannery Row - John Steinbeck
Though it might seem superfluous to have this minor Steinbeck work on this list, what with his magnum opus just below, this book always makes me laugh, and makes me aspire to be like Doc. Williams-Mystic folks will remember our Halloween night search for Truth, making the beer milkshake in the Johnston House kitchen.

East of Eden - John Steinbeck
This book combines so many things that I love: The triumph of the human spirit, quirky characters, quotable quotes, Bible stories, beautiful descriptions of landscapes, even a noir-esque intrigue. When asked to name one favorite book, I often name this one. Though I love movies, and movie adaptations of books, and though I respect that they are separate art forms, not necessitating comparison with one another, I can't bring myself to watch the movie version of East of Eden for fear that it would ruin the book for me.

For Whom the Bell Tolls - Ernest Hemingway
This one barely edged out The Lord of the Rings for this, admittedly last-of-the-top-five slot. People always seem more surprised to hear that I like Hemingway than to hear that I like The Lord of the Rings, so Hemingway it is. Though it is not often hailed as the best of Hemingway's three major works (The Sun Also Rises, A Farewell to Arms), I like it the best. Maybe it's the romance at its center, maybe it's the fact that I was reading John Donne when I first read it, maybe it's the 8-year-old inside of me getting excited about blowing up bridges. I just know that I love so much Hemingway, and when I have to pick one, I pick this one.

Moby Dick - Herman Melville
The (in)famous early American work of literature. I don't think I ever would have read this if it hadn't been required for class at Williams-Mystic, but having plowed through it, I can say that it is one of the most interesting, thought-provoking, and strange (not to mention long) books I've ever read. I regularly use the metaphor of the whale's head to refer to encounters with the ineffable.

One Man's Meat - E.B. White
This book's title has not aged nearly as well as its contents. Sad, because the contents (a series of essay from the early/middle of the 20th century) are charming, insightful, and well-written. If you only know E.B. White as the author of Charlotte's Web, these essays provide a new insight into the man. Of all the writers I read, I feel the most writerly kinship with E.B. White, in large part because of this book.

RUNNER UP: The Lord of the Rings - J.R.R. Tolkien
As you know from above, this one was barely edged out, mostly because, at least among Swatties, it's assumed that everyone has some fluency with, and that the majority of people enjoys these books. A small true confession: I went in costume to local premiere screenings of the later two movie releases. I apparently don't have the same reservations about The Lord of the Rings that I do about East of Eden.