Unironically, one of the most spiritual passages
>Would that I could keep squeezing that sperm for ever! For now, since by many prolonged, repeated experiences, I have perceived that in all cases man must eventually lower, or at least shift, his conceit of attainable felicity; not placing it anywhere in the intellect or the fancy; but in the wife, the heart, the bed, the table, the saddle, the fire-side; the country; now that I have perceived all this, I am ready to squeeze case eternally. In thoughts of the visions of the night, I saw long rows of angels in paradise, each with his hands in a jar of spermaceti.
Ch. 94
i like the cassock. i found it very funny.
had no clue what grandissimus meant and i kept thinking they made it out of a tail instead of what would be a man's front-tail.
i think most people just go right through the chapter thinking it's just more real info about the practices of whaling. i talk to people that have read the book and they tell me that no such chapter exists.
the novel is so rich in metaphor, that I want to go through again and right down any references i dont get, lots of ancient myths I didn't recognize.
I love Ishmael's upbeat attitude and when he speaks to us (usually towards the ends of chapters)
oh same. if you want more of that attitude you should check another of melville's works, redburn. it doesn't have nearly the depth of moby dick, it's just a simple travel log, but reburn's attitude is what carries the storey. i love him. here's an excerpt i find typical of the work.
>"We “hove” our deep-sea-line by night, and the operation was very interesting, at least to me. In the first place, the vessel’s heading was stopt; then, coiled away in a tub, like a whale-rope, the line was placed toward the after part of the quarter-deck; and one of the sailors carried the lead outside of the ship, away along to the end of the jib-boom, and at the word of command, far ahead and overboard it went, with a plunge; scraping by the side, till it came to the stern, when the line ran out of the tub like light."
>"When we came to haulitup, I was astonished at the force necessary to perform the work. The whole watch pulled at the line, which was rove through a block in the mizzen-rigging, as if we were hauling up a fat porpoise. When the lead came in sight, I was all eagerness to examine the tallow, and get a peep at a specimen of the bottom of the sea; but the sailors did not seem to be much interested by it, calling me a fool for wanting to preserve a few grains of the sand."
looks like a brainy read, perfect! is billy budd any good?
I think my next read will be jimmy buffett's favorite book, Mark Twain's "Following the Equator". Sounds like it captures the spirit of global adventure, though not in a Melvillean style
billy budd is good. that's another character with a seriously good attitude who will stick with you for a long time. for myself i prefer redburn as i relate to him more but they are both to be read. here's an excerpt:
>"the Handsome Sailor [melville just gave a short description of the Handsome Sailor for contrast] of the period in question evinced nothing of the dandified Billy-be-Damn, an amusing character all but extinct now, but occasionally to be encountered, and in a form yet more amusing than the original, at the tiller of the boats on the tempestuous Erie Canal or, more likely, vaporing in the groggeries along the tow-path. Invariably a proficient in his perilous calling, he was also more or less of a mighty boxer or wrestler. It was strength and beauty. Tales of his prowess were recited. Ashore he was the champion; afloat the spokesman; on every suitable occasion always foremost. Close-reefing top-sails in a gale, there he was, astride the weather yard-arm-end, foot in the Flemish horse as "stirrup," both hands tugging at the "earring" as at a bridle, in very much the attitude of young Alexander curbing the fiery Bucephalus. A superb figure, tossed up as by the horns of Taurus against the thunderous sky, cheerily hallooing to the strenuous file along the spar."
much obliged! so glad I finally took the plunge into Melville's nauticals
So I still don't get this chapter. They cut the whale's pp off and turn it into a cape or coat or something? Why would you wear whale pp clothes?
you would not. the whole point is that the outfit is utterly ridiculous. it accomplishes nothing and yet the sailors seem to be attatching a great deal of importance to it. consider this quote:
>The mincer now stands before you invested in the full canonicals of his calling. Immemorial to all his order, this investiture alone will adequately protect him, while employed in the peculiar functions of his office.
>That office consists in mincing the horse- pieces of blubber for the pots;
an operation which is conducted at a curious wooden horse, planted end-wise against the bulwarks, and with a capacious tub beneath it, into which the minced pieces drop, fast as the sheets from a rapt orator’s desk. Arrayed in decent black; occupying a con spicuous pulpit; intent on bible leaves;
what a candidate for an archbishoprick, what a lad for a Pope were this mincer.
he's clearly making fun of the idea that religious instruction can only be given in a certain set of clothes. he's saying "you may think you're all high and mighty playing dress up so you can talk down to us but i look at you and all i see is a whale penis". he may also be having a dig at circumcision at the sane time.
please excuse my formatting
>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! For worm-like, then, oh! who would craven crawl to land! Terrors of the terrible! is all this agony so vain? Take heart, take heart, O Bulkington! Bear thee grimly, demigod! Up from the spray of thy ocean-perishing- straight up, leaps thy apotheosis!
It's pretty gud
I like when Ishmael talks about being assigned to the mast-head and when Starbucks considers killing Ahab in his sleep
Aside for that it is more specific passages rather than entire chapters that stand out, like when he comments about the whale heads and how one is a platonist and the other a stoic. It just made me laugh Idk why
same haha, it made me laugh from the whimsy in the mundane, and makes me wanna be that way too.
the irony is he uses the whales peaker as a sort of protection against being splashed with the whale's oil which he's extracting from the whale's blubber over a fire fueled by the whale's oil. The poor whale is the source, and subject, of his demise into a pure essence. One doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.
>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!
>Know ye now, Bulkington? 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?
>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! For worm-like, then, oh! who would craven crawl to land! Terrors of the terrible! is all this agony so vain? Take heart, take heart, O Bulkington! Bear thee grimly, demigod! Up from the spray of thy ocean-perishing--straight up, leaps thy apotheosis!
Chapter 40
>Sailor A: What's that I see, Lightning? Yes.
>Spanish Sailor: No Daggoo showing his teeth
The fact that I have joked like Melville's characters makes me feel like his era isn't as distant from us as first perceived, and that humour transcends eras
I'm reading this for the first time and I'm shocked by how good it is.
I knew it would be good, of course, but I frequently stop to say out loud "frick, that's really beautiful" or something similar.
I was expecting a biblical brooding Blood Meridian on the ocean - instead it's a deeply optimistic and humanist tale (and Ishmael himself is a positive lover-of-man) and although it's certainly biblical, it is not biblical in the way I thought it would be.
I did buy a copy of the Bible to refer back to however because of how deeply Scripture is worked into the prose
What a beautiful book
>how it is that we still refuse to be comforted for those who we nevertheless maintain are dwelling in unspeakable bliss; why all the living so strive to hush all the dead; wherefore but the rumor of a knocking in a tomb will terrify a whole city. All these things are not without their meanings. But Faith, like a jackal, feeds among the tombs, and even from these dead doubts she gathers her most vital hope.
here's a little story from today you guys might enjoy
>cooking at mom's house, using the light from the microwave to illuminate the stovetop
>suddenly the light goes out and so does the digital clock on the door
>"mom your microwave just died"
>"oh it does that sometimes, don't know why"
>"just doesn't like us?"
>"mmm-hmm"
>punch the microwave a softly
>"oh that'll improve it's opinion of us"
>"TALK NOT TO ME OF BLASPHAMY, MAN; I'D STRIKE THE SUN IF IT INSULTED ME! FOR IF THE SUN COULD DO THAT, THEN I COULD DO THE OTHER."
>we laugh, the microwave comes back on with a quiet *beep*
Autism: Moby dick version
Wholesome and Ishmael pilled