Yes, dear readers, I have done it! I have finished Moby Dick. I feel awfully (perhaps even unreasonably) proud of myself. I actually hadn't intended to read it, but on the other hand, stuck in an airport likely was my best chance to finish it, and I had no time to get to the library before my trip to MN last weekend. Thanks, work for being even more busy than usual! Seriously.
Anyway, wow. What a book!
I thought that this one would be so much more miserable than it was; I know that sounds like damning with faint praise, but actually, it's not. I am certainly not the target audience for this one, and it felt rather dated. But it was pretty similar to Treasure Island or 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea in terms of readability and enjoyability.
I actually read the whaling parts, too. I particularly appreciated all of the references to Jonah, since they made me think of Baby Island. Man, I loved that book so much. I didn't actually love Moby Dick, but it could have been so much worse. Some of his odes to the awesomeness of whales does wear thin, but the parts about the actual chase where kind of fun in their way. They had momentum, even if the thought of whaling anymore is pretty disturbing. It had a pretty fantastic ending, of course.
I agree with the person who wrote the commentary for the edition that I read, who said we should really just read this and enjoy it as an adventure travel book, and not get all philosophical. Or more importantly, not get psychoanalytic, I think. I do not want to go there.
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