More familiarity from Pierre:
Among the various conflicting modes of writing history, there would seem to be two grand practical distinctions, under which all the rest must subordinately range. By the one mode, all contemporaneous circumstances, facts, and events must be set down contemporaneously; by the other, they are only to be set down as the general stream of the narrative shall dictate; for matters which are kindred in time, may be very irrelative in themselves. I elect neither of these; I am careless of either; both are well enough in their way; I write precisely as I please.
This is the opening salvo of a rare discursive chapter in Pierre, “Young America in Literature.” And here I’d almost thought Melville was following that second mode for once. Glad he’s not.
If I still posted “My Current Motto,” it would now be “I write precisely as I please.”
So here is a question – Is Moby Dick a good place to start with Melville? I’m all ears, I’d like to read him, not sure where to start?
AR—yes, a very good blogging motto in general.
verbivore—I do think Moby-Dick is a good place to start. Probably the best place, assuming you’re willing to dive into something that is fairly long. I would say the second-best choice would be either all of or anything from The Piazza Tales, including Bartleby and Benito Cereno. Much shorter and probably somewhat more accessible. But yeah, Moby-Dick, do it! (kidding, kidding…)
I would add Billy Budd to that list. The thing with Melville is, he’s so weird that you want to start with the really good stuff. You don’t want middling weird. For example, just try the first three chapters of Moby-Dick (that gets you to Queequeg) – either you’re dying for more, or you run screaming.
I just read them myself. What a book! Line by line by line!
“By reason of these things, then, the whaling voyage was welcome; the great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild conceits that swayed me to my purpose, two and two there floated into my inmost soul, endless processions of the whale, and, mid most of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air.” (end of Ch. 1)
I guess I can see how a reader might decide that 566 pages of this stuff is not for him at just this exact moment.