موبي ديك أو الحوت الأبيض, رائعة الكاتب الأمريكي هيرمان ميلفيل

"هل الحوت يفكر؟ هل لديه خطة!!"

n
يقول السيد ميكافيللي في كتاب الأمير بأن الرجل لا ينتقم إذا ظلمه ذو بأس شديد, ويخبرنا علماء الحيوان الآن بأن القرود والذئاب والحيوانات الأخرى, عندما تدخل في قتال مع أعضاء من نفس النوع تقاتل بكل شراسة, ولكنها عندما تشرف على الهزيمة تخنع وتنحني أمام الفائز الذي يتقبل انسحاب الطرف الآخر. وبهذه الآلية يحافظ النوع الواحد على أفراده. ويبدو أن البشر ورثوا هذه الآلية أو القانون أيضاً.

ولكن هناك بعض البشر يستخدمون سلاحهم الأكبر المتمثل في عقلهم, ليلتفوا على هذا القانون. فينظر الإنسان إلى الآخرين على أنهم حيوانات, حتى وإن كانوا حيوانات بيضاء رائعة الجمال بعيون زرقاء هادية. وكحيوانات يعطي لنفسه الحق في استغلالهم كما يشاء, فيمكنه أنه يقتلهم متى أراد ذلك ليستولي على خيراتهم وشحومهم. وإذا عارضوا ذلك وقاوموه, يعاود قتالهم بهستريا حتى وإن تمخض القتال عن فقدان إحدى ساقيه.

عند هذه المرحلة أو قبلها بقليل, تقوم الحيوانات فاقدة العقل بالانسحاب لألا تفقد حياتها أو تصاب إصابة خطيرة. ولكن صاحب العقل الكابتن "أهاب" بعقله يشقى. فقد استخدم عقله ليرسّخ في نفسه فكرة أنه لن يهزم أمام ذلك الحيوان, ويوماً ما سيستطيع الانتقام. فلقد اعتبر نفسه سابقاً -كما يخبرنا الكاتب- في مصاف الآلهة, فأطلق الوعود لرجاله وغامر بحياة كل من حوله للانتقام ممن رفضوا حريته في تسليم حياتهم الخاصة له.

وكما رأيتم, فالرواية رمزية بامتياز عن مالكي الحقيقة المطلقة كالآلهة, الذين يحقدون ويفرحون بالانتقام ممن يرفض الانصياع لهم كطفل سعيد في صباح يوم عيد الكريسماس.

والنهاية التي يتنبأ بها الكاتب, هي مقتل مدّعي الألوهية, وخسارة كل رجاله وأحبابه الذين ورّطهم معه لإشباع نزواته من كبرياء وغرور لا يقبل الاعتراف بالهزيمة, ولا بحق الآخرين كبشر مساويين له في حرية تقرير مصيرهم.

"ولأن رجلاً يكره شخصاً, فينتقم منه ويقتل نفسه ويقتل الجميع."

n
**

قرأت نسخة مختصرة من القصة, لأن العمر أقصر من أن أحيط بكل الروايات الكلاسيكية السابقة التي فاتتني. وأنا أريد فعلاً أن ألم بهم.

يوجد ترجمة كاملة للرواية بالعربية بعنوان "موبي ديك" لمن أراد الاستمتاع بها كاملة.

Μεταχρονολογημένες σκέψεις:
Μύρια όσα έχουν ειπωθεί -και θα συνεχίσουν όσο υπάρχουν αναγνώστες που οργώνουν τα "πέλαγα" του γραπτού λόγου- για το "Μόμπι Ντικ". Το έργο αυτό που μαρμαίρει την παγκόσμια λογοτεχνία διακρίνεται, μεταξύ άλλων, για το ότι προσφέρει πολλαπλά επίπεδα ανάγνωσης: Το πρώτο, η θαλασσινή περιπέτεια, άμεσα προσβάσιμο και προσλήψιμο τόσο από τους "παροικούντες" όσο και από τους "περαστικούς". Και μόνο αυτό θα αρκούσε, αν και είναι πάμπολλοι εκείνοι που έχουν εγκαταλείψει το…πλοίο εξαιτίας της ανήριθμου παράθεσης "βαρετών" λεπτομερειών.
Εκείνο όμως που καθιστά το έργο αυτό μνημειώδες, τοποθετώντας τον συγγραφέα του μεταξύ των αείποτε Δημιουργών, είναι η δεύτερη, τρίτη, νιοστή ανάγνωση, έντεχνα κρυμμένη και ενδεδυμένη τη θαλασσινή περιπέτεια.
Σταχυολογώντας: Η λευκή φάλαινα ως θεϊκή παρουσία/απουσία, μοχθηρή όπως ο θεός της Παλαιάς Διαθήκης, εκδικητική και εσαεί απρόσιτη στους κοινούς θνητούς, σέρνει πίσω της και επάνω της την ιστορία των αναρίθμητων θυμάτων της. Αλλά ταυτόχρονα ειδομένη ως η αδιάφορη -προς καθετί ανθρώπινο- Φύση, αδάμαστη, ανοίκεια και αιώνια, σε αντίθεση με το πεπερασμένο του ανθρώπινου βίου που συνεχίζει εμμονικά και ατελέσφορα να κυνηγάει χίμαιρες.
Ο Ahab ως άλλος Βυρωνικός ήρωας, έξω και πάνω από τις ανθρώπινες συνθήκες, περιορισμούς και νόμους, αρνούμενος να υποκύψει σε οιαδήποτε άλλη Δύναμη πλην εκείνης που εκπορεύεται από το Εγώ του, έτοιμος για την υπέρτατη θυσία του Εαυτού και συνεπώς και των έτερων. Και, τέλος, η Κιβωτός, το πλοίο που φέρει την Ανθρωπότητα, το πλήρωμα, εντός της. Έρμαιο στη θέληση εξω-ανθρώπινων δυνάμεων, με τα μέλη της να εξυπηρετούν σκοπούς αλλότριους και ακατανόητους, ως την φυσική τους εξόντωση. Το μέγα λευκό μυστήριο παραμένει απροσπέλαστο, παρασύροντας στα βάθη του αγνώστου όσους τολμηρούς -και μη- προσπαθούν να το κατανοήσουν, να το χειραγωγήσουν, να το εξοντώσουν.
Έτσι ακριβώς όπως και το "Μομπι Ντικ" θα παραμείνει για πάντα απροσπέλαστο σε εκείνους που το προσεγγίζουν έχοντας πιστέψει πως το αντίτιμο της αγοράς τού πολυσέλιδου τόμου, τους εξασφαλίζει αυτόματα και το δικαίωμα στη μέθεξη.

In questi giorni ho letto recensioni sulla recentissima traduzione del Moby Dick, confrontata con la traduzione, risalente nel tempo, di Cesare Pavese. Io ho letto il Moby Dick della Universale Economica Feltrinelli tradotto da tale Alessandro Ceni, che –leggo nel retro- è poeta e pittore oltre che traduttore. Ebbene, premesso che non capisco niente di traduzioni, né posso fare confronti perché non ho letto la traduzione di Cesare Pavese, una sola cosa posso dire, che il romanzo è bellissimo.
Non so classificarlo in una categoria o in un genere perché in Moby Dick c’è tutto: è una storia del mondo, dell’uomo, di Dio, di Satana, del bene, del male, della follia, della saggezza, del mare e della terra; unisce, trattandone in modo minuzioso e grandioso assieme, animali e divinità: è un’enciclopedia sui cetacei e sul loro re, il capodoglio; al tempo stesso è una Bibbia trasfigurata da Olimpo, dove dei, semidei, eroi, uomini e creature ultraterrene che vivono nel mondo senza essere del mondo, il cui capo indiscusso è il Leviatano, la balena bianca, si combattono, si ergono ognuno a sfidare l’altro in una lotta mortale, di una potenza e di una grandiosità che lasciano senza fiato. Anche lo stile narrativo è multiforme, passa dai toni epici alla poesia pura, dal linguaggio teatrale a quello scientifico e saggistico, non è leggero, anche a causa dei termini marinareschi usati di continuo da Melville, e per questo il libro va centellinato, le pagine vanno rilette anche per trovare le continue citazioni ed i rimandi soprattutto al Vecchio Testamento (chissà quanti me ne sono sfuggiti).
Insomma Moby Dick è tutto quanto ho scritto sopra e molto di più, è un’opera immensa nella quale ogni lettore trova allegorie e simbolismi sui quali non mi dilungo perché ne è stato detto tanto: l’eterna lotta tra l’uomo e la natura, la sete di conoscenza dell’uomo che si mette alla prova per superare limiti invalicabili. Personalmente ho trovato dominante l’aspetto religioso, ho visto in Achab una specie di sacerdote che celebra un rito ossessivamente ripetuto, la personificazione di un Dio folle nella sua lotta contro il male, e nel finale –stupendo- la distruzione e il crollo universale, la fine di ogni religione, etica e filosofia nell’oceano che inghiotte uomini, dei, eroi e leviatani.
E poi, dimenticavo, ho imparato che della balena, come del maiale, non si butta via niente!

#bibliotecaafectivă

„Clătinîndu-și în chip ciudat capul fatidic, Moby-Dick înainta spre corabie printr-un brîu lat de spumă... Prin întreaga ei înfățișare, își trăda firea aprigă, răzbunătoare, dorința de a pedepsi, răutatea veșnică”.

Un roman pe care l-am citit pentru prima dată cu mult, mult timp în urmă. Probabil că sînt la a treia sau la a patra lectură. Nu mai contează. Mulți critici pretind că romanul e ilizibil și că nu poate fi dus pînă la capăt. John Sutherland, printre ei, ca să dau numai un singur exemplu. Sutherland publică destul de des în The Guardian, e o somitate ironică, a scris o carte despre Bestsellers (am recenzat-o nu de mult)...

În treacăt fie spus, a citi un roman de 4 ori nu este o ispravă nemaivăzută în univers, unii au citit Război și pace de 12 ori și tot nu s-au săturat. De vreme ce am ajuns cu lecturile atît de departe, înseamnă că Moby-Dick nu mi s-a părut nici ilizibil și nici imposibil de dus pînă la capăt. Vă mai amintiți cum se termină? Da, cu moartea căpitanului Ahab (care e obsedat de balena albă pînă la cea mai pură demență) și cu salvarea bietului Ishmael, singurul supraviețuitor de pe baleniera Pequod. În definitiv, dacă și Ishmael ar fi murit, nu ar mai fi fost nimeni care să ne relateze ce s-a întîmplat cu Pequod :)

Unii spun că singura semnificație a cărții e cea literală: „Moby-Dick se referă - nici mai mult, dar nici mai puțin - la vînătoarea unei balene. Punct” (E.M. Forster). Cei mai mulți au căutat, în schimb, simbolismul. Nu poate fi vorba doar de o vînătoare dramatică. Și au propus cele mai bizare interpretări. Iată una teologică: Moby-Dick ilustrează „inscrutabila tăcere” cu care Dumnezeu răspunde tuturor celor care Îl caută” (James Wood). Alții propun o interpretare mai laică: Moby-Dick prezintă căutarea unui adevăr de neatins, a unui adevăr care se retrage mereu din fața minții noastre. Această căutare sfîrșește în umilință și uluială (James McIntosh). Jorge Luis Borges a găsit în romanul lui Melville o „coborîre în infern”, o nekya. Mă opresc aici.

Adaug doar că primii critici (cei din 1851) au văzut în Moby-Dick un roman încîlcit, obscur, de o valoare îndoielnică, în nici un caz o capodoperă. Prea multe digresiuni abat atenția cititorului de la acțiunea cărții. În publicațiile britanice au apărut și cîteva cronici pozitive. Din păcate, Herman Melville nu le-a cunoscut. A murit ignorat de toți, dezamăgit, în dimineața zilei de 28 septembrie 1891.

Moby-Dick reprezintă, cu siguranță, cel mai zdrobitor exemplu de orbire critică.

Nearly every sentence crackles, sparks, or blazes with the intensity of what is possible to be done with the English language. Everything is multitudinously significant.

No amount of contemporary contempt, modern revisionism, or attention deficiency will sway me from this stance. My allegiance will not be altered.

I’m due for a return to sea.

This is a huge barrel of whaling lore, brimful and stoppered with every possible scrap of information about 19th century whaling ships, about the men who sailed them, the tools they used and the skills needed for the nearly impossible task of hunting the great sperm whale for his precious oil. But underneath all that blubber beats the comparatively small but throbbing heart of a great adventure story, peopled with entertaining characters straight out of Shakespeare and pervaded with biblical foreshadowings of doom.
And I got to the last page of this resurrection tale on Easter Sunday.

Update, November 2012
Someone asked me recently if you needed to know a lot about ships and the sea in order to understand this book. Absolutely not! Moby Dick is an encyclopaedia of facts about nineteenth century seafaring. Melville leaves very little unexplained. The reader might need to be a little familiar with the bible however...

"Aye, aye! And I’ll chase him round Good Hope, and round the Horn, and round the Norway Maelstrom, and round perdition’s flames before I give him up. And this is what ye have shipped for, men! To chase that white whale on both sides of land, and over all sides of earth, till he spouts black blood and rolls fin out." - Captain Ahab

Stripped of its multitude of digressions, Moby-Dick is at heart a fantastic adventure and literary treasure brimming with symbolism and some of the most colorful and memorable characters ever encountered. So why only 2.5 stars generously rounded up to make a full 3? Well, simply because the departures from the main narrative were often mind-numbing and effectively brought the momentum of the plot almost to a stand-still for me. Interspersed at frequent intervals among the compelling, fictional aspects of the book are a plethora of non-fictional descriptions of the whaling industry, the various species of whales, the anatomy of the whale, descriptions of whaling lines, whale processing (gruesome but sometimes interesting), whale paintings, whale writings, and whale ships. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m as interested as the next whale enthusiast (insert a bit of sarcasm here) in the real, nitty gritty details of this magnificent beast and the fundamentals of the trade, but I felt like I was reading a textbook half the time.

So, maybe I’m not a non-fiction kind of gal and true facts are not my cup of tea? Well, I don’t think this is the case. What initially prompted me to read Moby-Dick – aside from being able to say I actually accomplished this feat – was my reading of In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex by Nathaniel Philbrick. A little over a year ago, I hesitantly picked up this non-fiction book as part of a group read. I didn’t really think I would make it through that one, much less actually enjoy it. However, I was pleasantly surprised at how engrossed I became in that true account of another fated whaling expedition. I learned a lot without ever feeling like I was dozing off in the middle of a grand lecture hall. When I realized that Herman Melville was inspired by that tragic story to write his own mythical tale, I was convinced to give it a try.

All grumbling aside, there is much to admire and even enjoy in Moby-Dick. For one, when in the moment, the chase is one of the most thrilling scenes in all of literature. I couldn’t get enough of this and it seemed so short-lived compared to how long I waited for it to arrive. It’s not to be missed, however! As I mentioned from the start, the characters are wonderful – so well-drawn and easily identifiable. Captain Ahab, Queequeg, Starbuck, Stubb, Flask, Ishmael, Pip, Fedallah and the rest won’t soon be forgotten. Then, of course, there’s Moby-Dick. "It was the whiteness of the whale that above all things appalled me… yet for all these accumulated associations, with whatever is sweet, and honourable, and sublime, there yet lurks an elusive something in the innermost idea of this hue, which strikes more of panic to the soul than that redness which affrights in blood." Many scenes are comic in nature, especially one in the beginning involving a couple of very unlikely bedfellows! Last but not least is perhaps the whole point of the book – Captain Ahab’s obsession with the White Whale. His single-minded determination to seek revenge on one of nature’s creations at the expense of the entire crew is extraordinary. Like a man possessed, Ahab is consumed by this destructive purpose despite the vehement forewarnings of the scrupulous first mate, Starbuck. "Vengeance on a dumb brute! That simply smote thee from blindest instinct! Madness! To be enraged with a dumb thing, Captain Ahab, seems blasphemous." I won’t say much more here, in case you succumb to your curiosity and venture to pick up this tome. I will say that the climax of the novel is stunning and I truly did enjoy the ending!

I can’t really recommend this book to any particular group of readers. If you feel the urge to read this, I won’t discourage you. If you begin and throw in the towel, I won’t blame you. If you perchance reach the last page and proclaim this a masterpiece, then I’d congratulate you! My idea of the most rewarding experience would be to read Philbrick’s In the Heart of the Sea (My Review), combined with the abridged version of this book – I wish I had thought of that before!

Best Taken in Small Doses

Many consider "Call me Ishmael" the greatest opening line in American literature. It is certainly one of the most famous and unconventional, violating all sorts of "rules" about writing. Ishmael himself is a minor character in the novel being merely the sailor telling the story.

When MOBY DICK was published in 1851, it received mixed reviews and was a commercial failure. It was not until the twentieth century that it came to be regarded as great literature and Melville to be regarded as one of the great American writers. It was praised by such authors as D.H. Lawrence, Carl Van Doren, William Faulkner, William Somerset Maugham and Ralph Ellison. If you don't care for the works of these and others who have praised Melville, that could be a clue as to how you will react to reading MOBY DICK.

I have a kind of love/hate relationship with MOBY DICK. I see great and wonderful passages in the book but find my interest and patience eventually wandering. I have to put it down, not for a few hours, but days, weeks at a time. Truthfully, I would rather watch the 1956 John Huston movie starring Gregory Peck and scripted by Ray Bradbury.

My uncle took me fishing when I was a child. He did all the fishing while I just hung around, observing. During one such trip, I had a fishing rod in my hand but didn't want to catch anything. The thought of catching a live fish was unbearable. I was a fearful and imaginative child, prone to melodrama. And then it happened. I felt a strong tug on the rod. It was the worst experience of my life. I just stood there, frozen, unable to reel in the fish. My location felt like Amity Island, and the catch was no different from Jaws (I told you I was melodramatic). I was scared and felt sorry for the fish at the same time. Worst of all, people were staring at me.

n  n

It was not my destiny to be a master fisherman. I wish Captain Ahab had come to the same realization as I did. His pride ultimately led to his downfall.

Moby Dick is the ultimate tale of man versus nature. What could be more formidable than a sperm whale, the ocean's largest predator? A being so powerful that not even the mighty orca, the ocean's most skillful killer, can defeat it. Who would dare hunt such a creature?

Humans.

n  n

The name orca comes from the Latin phrase Orcinus orca, which translates as 'of the kingdom of the dead.' Great white sharks have the word 'great' as part of their name. Then there are sperm whales. Couldn't they think of something more dignified? I understand the reason behind their naming, but I still find it ridiculous. Dark humor - instead of calling them sperm whales, they could have named them waxy whales or oil lamp whales.

Whaling was a highly lucrative business. Bloody and dangerous, but lucrative nonetheless. Told from the sailor Ishmael's perspective, the story follows Ahab, captain of the whaling ship Pequod, who embarks on a quest for vengeance against a giant sperm whale who maimed him.

Ahab is a man who doesn't know when to quit. I would have noped out of there after the first encounter, but that's not Ahab. He's not like other girls. He wants to kill Moby Dick, no matter the cost. Despite the risks, Ahab's ego fuels his dangerous quest. He is consumed by his desire to defeat the white whale.

I have mixed emotions about this novel. While I acknowledge that it's an important piece of literature, filled with metaphors and double entendres, it's not my cup of peppermint tea.


Why was the whale called Dick? He's just swimming in the ocean, snacking on squid, sharks, and fish, minding his business. He sunk a few ships, but only because he was defending himself. Ahab is the 'Dick' of the story.

I find the real story of Moby Dick much more fascinating than the fictional one. Moby Dick was inspired by a real-life white sperm whale named Mocha Dick, whose story is both fascinating and tragic.

Is the ocean a harsh mistress, or are some people just foolish?

My advice would be to check the weather forecast before going sailing, avoid hunting giant marine mammals, wear sunscreen, and listen to Bobby Darin's "Beyond the Sea."


n  n

Arguably the first truly modern American novel, published 1851. One of the essential books of life. My third reading.

What can I say about this great American novel that hasn’t already been said by generations of readers and academics?

Moby-Dick is as mammoth, mysterious and elusive as the enormous white whale that gives the book its name. The opening line (“Call me Ishmael”) is one of the most famous in all literature. And even people who’ve never read it are familiar with the peg-legged, vengeance-seeking Captain Ahab, the archetype for any maniacally obsessed leader.

What makes the novel so fascinating is how modern it feels. It’s an adventure tale about a man who’s driven to hunt down the beast who maimed him, but it’s also a treatise on whales and the whaling industry, a sharp look at class and culture (the sailors hail from all around the world), and a bold literary experiment, for 1851 or even today.

It’s hugely digressive, contains dialogue that at times sounds Shakespearean, and there’s not really much action until the end. But somehow it’s still very entertaining. Melville (who, of course, knew all about whaling) is such a clever, genial writer, that you’ll be smiling and chuckling throughout and gasping at his powers of description and observation.

You’ll smell the salty air, feel the churning waves and your heart will beat a little faster when one of the crew cries “There she blows!”

I wasn’t especially moved by the story, but I don’t think we’re meant to be. Each of the characters is distinct, and Melville is savvy in the way that he uses silence to reveal dissent, particularly in the growing animosity between Ahab and Starbuck, the responsible first mate. (Yup, that’s where the coffee chain got its name.)

But what I do feel about the book is awe and respect. Like the ocean itself, it is vast and has unknowable depths, and I can see myself in another couple of years venturing back out for another rewarding trip.

Holy mackerel! I made it! I survived these cold, salty, surprisingly DRY waters. I didn't completely drown (though several times I needed CPR), I didn't perish at sea, tricked by the siren call of "literary masterpiece".

I've avoided the whale for years now, and would have continued to swim around it, to ignore its thick spine shaming me from my bookcase... but I have this friend, this very kind and dignified friend who bought me a copy a few years ago (it being his very favourite book of all time). "Have you read it yet?" he would ask, periodically. And I would hang my head. "NO... but I will! Soon! I promise!" And then I wouldn't. Because... truth be told, I was afraid. Because I'm not interested in blubber or harvesting of blubber, or whaling ships, or, let's be honest, most any book over 400 pages. And this one? 707 pages. 7-0-7.

I don't know what I was expecting, other than blubber and a bunch of dirty sailors. It was a lot more than that, though, and also, at the same time, only that. The beginning was fascinating, unexpected - a gay love story between Ishmael and Queequeg. An intriguing introduction to Ahab, the monomaniacal captain of the Pequod.

And then... (cue lullaby music, followed by a deep, deep coma)... 500 or so pages of encyclopediaic description of EVERYTHING pertaining to whales and whaling and the slaughtering of them, and the nobility of slaughtering them. He speaks lovingly of these leviathans, but he's equally passionate about their destruction. I was absolutely dying of boredom during these parts, and I know that those who love the book say that these parts just serve to make every other part more real and substantiated, and maybe that is true. But I dare say that the huge leeway that Moby-Dick's fans give this endless exposition of fact after fact after fact is given out of some unique, inexplicable soft spot people have for the book. I swear, anyone writing in 2019 who tried this literary torture technique would a) never be published in the first place and b) not receive the heartfelt adoration that Dick-lovers everywhere seem to have.

And I understand that this was written in 1851, and people's reading needs and tastes have changed. Folks in 1851 didn't have Wikipedia, and couldn't look up all about the whale's spout, tail, etc. Couldn't look up an in-depth description of how to behead a creature who doesn't have a neck. This was a great exercise in observing how our needs as readers have evolved... and HOW.

Highly sexualized language throughout (the name of the whale - a SPERM whale, at that, is just the beginning - there was, and I kid you not, a scene in which Ishmael says Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze that sperm, all the morning long.) brought back some life after what felt like years of reading a scientific textbook. Then, the magnificent ending - Biblical, Shakespearean, action scenes of the highest calibre. So what if the characterization is almost non existent? So what if Queequeg sort of disappears after sharing Ishmael's bed for the first 100 pages? I was IN, my heart was pounding, I felt the love, I was carried away by the grandness, awash....

And damn it, SO GLAD IT'S OVER.