It’s been a kooky week at work and I’ve found it difficult writing a post on Moby-Dick (with a hyphen) this week as a result. Every single day I started writing, but haven’t been able to compile my thoughts in some kind of readable format. So … I’m just going to throw out the following for your consideration.
— All the talk about fate in the story seems so gloomy. As if the Pequod crew believes Ahab won’t beat Moby Dick and things will end badly. I imagine if you joined a whaling crew, you would have resigned yourself to the fact — even before stepping onto the ship — that you might die. Ishmael seems to be more than okay with whatever fate has in store for him. Lemons? Make lemonade! On a death mission because your captain is crazy? Make lemonade!
— As fascinating as it is to read all of the side chapters about whales, doesn’t it seem like Ishmael (or Melville) is a wee bit obsessed himself? Laura is right. Who writes whole chapters about white or Brit? What drives you to pick apart every last detail about whales and write so lovingly about it? Weird. Brilliant. Crazy. Obsessed. I cannot find the words.
— I was amused reading about all of the whale artwork created by people who had never laid their eyes on the animal. Ishmael/Melville then talks about seeing the image of whales everywhere, including the stars in the heavens (obsessed, I tell ya). I can attest to this a little. The other day when I was driving, I looked in the rear view mirror at a big white car and immediately thought, “Moby Dick!”.
— I still have not been taking notes. See last post. Shame!