Herman Melville’s MOBY-DICK, ch. 1-21
im reading MOBY-DICK in one week.
This is the kind of madness grad school electives do.
This reading set took me to where Ishmael and Queequeg board the Pequod after another encounter with Elijah the prophet. And i already feel like im going to be converted into a Melville-ite. i really, really like the book so far; i like how weird it is. i dont like the edition i bought. These old Bantam books have such tiny and hard-to-read print. But this cover is lovely. Better than that image you see on the newer Penguin editions — too spectacle-driven. The empty churning sea-scape, the sickly green color. i love the desolation of it, and i think it’s closer to the tone. It’s beautiful in a way, and has something subtly unhinged about it. Which is that elusive quality i like so much about these Romantic novels (to think, SCARLET LETTER, this book, and UNCLE TOM’S CABIN, three great novels in as many years, and Emily Dickinson composing in her room all the while, American Renaissance indeed).