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Call Me Ishmael


I’ve just finished re-reading Moby Dick, Herman Melville’s American masterpiece about Captain Ahab’s battle with destiny, madness and the great white sperm whale that demasted him of a leg. It’s one of the most remarkable books I’ve ever plowed through.

Ishmael, the book’s narrator, signs on to be a shipmate on the whaling ship Pequod for a three-year expedition because he’s drawn to the sea as a way to clear his head and experience the ocean’s vast wildness. As fate would have it though, Ahab, captain of the Pequod, has no intention to harvest as many sperm whales as possible, but to hunt down and kill Moby Dick.
 
I’m fascinated by literary names. Ahab was named by his “crazy mother” after a biblical king of Israel who devoted himself to the worship of false gods. Like his namesake, Captain Ahab is devoted to the maniacal pursuit of his false god, vengeance.

Ishmael in the Bible was the bastard son of Abraham and his wife’s slave Hagar. Abraham’s wife Sarah banishes the slave and Ishmael to the desert, where they wander for an extended period. But God listened to their pleas (“Ishmael” means “God hears”) and protects them through their ordeal, later provides Ishmael a wife, and makes him ruler of a nation. In the novel, Ishmael is destined to wander not the desert but the sea yet is protected through the climactic sea battle between Ahab and Moby Dick that destroys Ahab and the rest of the Pequod’s crew.

Moby Dick is filled with discourse about the interplay of fate, free will, and chance – with Melville offering a remarkably simple analogy – as well as the man versus nature theme. It also features writing styles that are alternately light and humorous, densely poetic, and highly descriptive. It’s a long read but a great and stimulating adventure.

Like Ishmael, I am drawn to the water, and wonder at times whether we drink from a cocktail of choice, fate, and chance, or of only one or two of those ingredients. As soon as I figure that out, I’ll let you know.




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