GANC: Moby Dick

Moby Dick by Herman Melville was not what I expected. Perhaps I ran into a case where I am so familiar with the climax, the focus of the tale, that at every turn of the page I expected a siting of the White Whale and a Moby Dick. vs. Ahab fight to the death. It took over four-fifths of the book for the whaling vessel Pequod to even see the whale. So, if the book is not about a fight between a whale and a man, what is it about?

This is the point, early on, that things begin to fall apart for me. This book is so thick with meaning, layering and heft, and I was unable to devote the time and intensity necessary to understand even half of it. Where's Mrs. Jackson, my high school English teacher, when you need her? But I will try to piece together what little I did get about and from the story.

In a way, the two main character, Ahab (the captain) and Ishmael (the narrator and crew member) counter balance one another elegantly. Ahab seeks Moby Dick in order to conquer it, to know it in its death. Ishmael, on the other hand, seems to want an adventure and to know the ins and outs of whales in general. Many chapters are devoted to Ishmael discussing types of whales, bones of whales, intellect of whales, whales in literature, whales in art, uses of whale parts, the benevolence or malevolence of different whales. One man desires to know one whale to its soul. Another to know all whales' in their parts, possibly in hopes of explaining to himself, and thus the reader, Ahab's passionate pursuit of Moby Dick.

In addition to this ongoing discussion of knowledge and knowing, Melville incorporates a discussion of fate and prophesy throughout the book. This one was harder for me to track since it did not typically consist of a chapter-long aside, as did Ishmael's discussion on whales. From seemingly insane men prophesying doom to the very name of the ship, Pequod, a Native American tribe that did not last long after white men arrived, this permeating sense of doom weaves its tendrils throughout the book. The reader senses the tragic outcome before many of the characters do.

As for how Moby Dick relates and interacts with American culture, I posit that this is the quintessential tale of man versus nature as well as single-minded pursuit. To extrapolate to our culture, this theme touches on conquering the unconquerable and ambitiously pursuing a goal at all costs, things that define what has come to be the American stereotype. That relentless pursuit sometimes yields great progress and light, and sometimes it yields a person's own White Whale. If one were ask the average American for literary examples of these ideals, most would not name Moby Dick, but it is there in the background, just under the surface below visibility.

Great American Novel Challenge Booklist:
July 2009: Absalom, Absalom! - William Faulkner, publ. 1936
August 2009: Lonesome Dove - Larry McMurtry, publ. 1985

Rice: 1, Me: 0

Once again last night, I proved to myself that I have given the name of my blog an apt title. Boy howdy was there some smoke! It all began innocently enough with my attempt to make dinner that was not a sandwich or scrambled eggs. It is getting to that point with my foodstuffs that a grocery trip is of vital importance...unless I can find some recipes for the numerous condiments I collect. Seriously, three or four types of mustard, three mayo-like spreads, four or five dressings, two jars of salsa, various Asian sauces, and an assortment of other dipping and spreading sauces.

Anyway, back to my smoky night. I decided to make pork and brown rice. Marinated the pork in some teriyaki sauce I had in the fridge and put the rice on to cook. As I am reading my GANC book (one day, 100 pages - can I do it? Find out tomorrow!) I begin to notice a nutty aroma. Thinking that typical for brown rice and simply a smell previously unnoticed, I continued on. About five minutes after that, the nutty transitioned to a smell I can only equate to burnt popcorn.

Upon arriving at the stove, I quickly see the source. My pot of rice is filled with a thick fog of smoke, its burner still on the high setting I had for boiling the water. The burner next to it, however, was set on the lovely low temperature needed to cook rice. Sigh. I take the charred pot off the burner, run to dismantle the screeching smoke alarm, and survey the damage.

One pot of rice - Ruined unless you like the taste of nutty charcoal
One apartment - Smoke as thick as a biker dive bar
One pot - Unscathed save for a thin layer of black char reminiscent of dried magma from a volcano

After some soaking, scrubbing and more scrubbing, the pot was almost back to its pre-rice condition. My apartment was not smoke-filled, but only smoke scented. The pork turned out fairly well and I found a box of couscous in the depths of my pantry. It did not burn.