Moby-Dick: or, The Whale (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)
Moby-Dick: or, The Whale (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition) book cover

Moby-Dick: or, The Whale (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)

Paperback – Deckle Edge, September 1, 2001

Price
$9.95
Format
Paperback
Pages
672
Publisher
Penguin Classics
Publication Date
ISBN-13
978-0142000083
Dimensions
5.7 x 1.7 x 8.4 inches
Weight
1.75 pounds

Description

From Library Journal November 14 marks the 150th anniversary of Melville's salty saga of vengeance and obsession. Now a contender for the great American novel, this book was harpooned at the time of its 1851 publication by critics who found it overly long and boorish (observations no doubt still shared by countless high school students). They felt that like Ahab, the story didn't have much of a leg to stand on. The once lucrative whaling industry also was in its death throes and of little interest to readers. The book was forgotten for decades before being rediscovered in the 1920s by scholars who understood and appreciated the multilevel symbolism and allegory dismissed by their 19th-century predecessors. Melville published little after the failure of Moby-Dick and made his living as a customs inspector in New York City, where he was born in 1819 and died in complete obscurity in 1891. He is buried in the Bronx. This edition of his masterwork includes the full text along with illustrations of whales, whaling barks, and whaling instruments; maps; and a new introduction by Nathaniel Philbrick. A lot for the price. Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc. Winner of the 2012 Fifty Books/Fifty Covers show, organized by Design Observer in association with AIGA and Designers & BooksWinner of the 2014 Type Directors Club Communication Design Award Praise for Penguin Drop Caps: "[Penguin Drop Caps] convey a sense of nostalgia for the tactility and aesthetic power of a physical book and for a centuries-old tradition of beautiful lettering."— Fast Company “Vibrant, minimalist new typographic covers…. Bonus points for the heartening gender balance of the initial selections.”—Maria Popova, Brain Pickings "The Penguin Drop Caps series is a great example of the power of design. Why buy these particular classics when there are less expensive, even free editions of Great Expectations ? Because they’re beautiful objects. Paul Buckley and Jessica Hische’s fresh approach to the literary classics reduces the design down to typography and color. Each cover is foil-stamped with a cleverly illustrated letterform that reveals an element of the story. Jane Austen’s A ( Pride and Prejudice ) is formed by opulent peacock feathers and Charlotte Bronte’s B ( Jane Eyre ) is surrounded by flames. The complete set forms a rainbow spectrum prettier than anything else on your bookshelf."—Rex Bonomelli, The New York Times "Drool-inducing."— Flavorwire "Classic reads in stunning covers—your book club will be dying."— Redbook Herman Melville was born in August 1, 1819, in New York City, the son of a merchant. Only twelve when his father died bankrupt, young Herman tried work as a bank clerk, as a cabin-boy on a trip to Liverpool, and as an elementary schoolteacher, before shipping in January 1841 on the whaler Acushnet, bound for the Pacific. Deserting ship the following year in the Marquesas, he made his way to Tahiti and Honolulu, returning as ordinary seaman on the frigate United States to Boston, where he was discharged in October 1844. Books based on these adventures won him immediate success. By 1850 he was married, had acquired a farm near Pittsfield, Massachussetts (where he was the impetuous friend and neighbor of Nathaniel Hawthorne), and was hard at work on his masterpiece Moby-Dick. Literary success soon faded; his complexity increasingly alienated readers. After a visit to the Holy Land in January 1857, he turned from writing prose fiction to poetry. In 1863, during the Civil War, he moved back to New York City, where from 1866-1885 he was a deputy inspector in the Custom House, and where, in 1891, he died. A draft of a final prose work, Billy Budd, Sailor , was left unfinished and uncollated, packedxa0tidily away by his widow, where it remained until its rediscovery and publication in 1924. Nathaniel Philbrick , is a leading authority on the history of Nantucket Island. His In the Heart of the Sea won the National Book Award. His latest book is Sea of Glory , about the epic U.S. Exploring Expedition of 1838–1842. His other books include Away off Shore: Nantucket Island and Its People, 1602-1890 (which Russell Baker called "indispensable") and Abram's Eyes: The Native American Legend of Nantucket Island ("a classic of historical truthtelling," according to Stuart Frank , director of the Kendall Whaling Museum). He has written an introduction to a new edition of Joseph Hart 's Miriam Coffin, or The Whale Fisherman , a Nantucket novel (first published in 1834) that Melville relied upon for information about the island when writing Moby Dick . Philbrick, a champion sailboat racer, has also written extensively about sailing, including The Passionate Sailor (1987) and the forthcoming Second Wind: A Sunfish Sailor's Odyssey . He was editor in chief of the classic Yaahting: A Parody (1984). In his role as director of the Egan Institute of Maritime Studies, Philbrick, who is also a research fellow at the Nantucket Historical Association, gives frequent talks about Nantucket and sailing. He has appeared on "NBC Today Weekend", A&E's "Biography" series, and National Public Radio and has served as a consultant for the movie "Moby Dick", shown on the USA Network. He received a bachelor of Arts from Brown University and a Master of Arts in American Literature from Duke. He lives on Natucket with his wife and two children. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Call me Ishmael. This resonant opening of Moby-Dick, the greatest novel in American literature, announces the narrator, Herman Melville, as he with a measure of slyness thought of himself. In the Scriptures Ishmael, a wild man sired by the overwhelming patriarch Abraham, was nevertheless the bastard son of a serving girl Hagar. The author himself was the offspring of two distinguished American families, the Melvilles of Boston and the Gansevoorts of Albany. Melville's father cast something of a blight on the family escutcheon by his tendency to bankruptcy which passed down to his son. Dollars damn me, the son was to say over and over. When he sat down in the green landscape of Pittsfield, Massachusetts, to compose Moby-Dick he was in debt, the father of one son, and another to be born a few days after the publication of the novel in England.Melville had published five novels previous to Moby-Dick; the first two did well, and then with the capriciousness of the public the subsequent novels failed to please. He was a known literary figure with a fading reputation. How he came upon the courage to undertake the challenging creation of the epical battle between a sea creature, a white whale called Moby Dick, and an old captain from Nantucket by the name of Ahab is one of literature's triumphant mysteries. Add to that, as one reads, that he was only thirty-two years old.Ten years before, in 1841, he had signed up as a common seaman on the whaling vessel Acushnet bound for the South Seas. Young Ishmael was drawn by the lure of the sea and by the wonder of the whale itself, the Leviathan, the monarch of the deep, "one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air." Until the discovery of petroleum oil in 1859 and Thomas Edison's invention of the incandescent lamp in 1879, whaling was a major commercial occupation in New England. Fortunes were made, grand houses were built, often with a "widow's walk" on the roof that testified to the great dangers of the enterprise. For the crew, service on a whaler was a drastic life of unremitting labor; foul, crowded quarters; bad food in scanty servings; contractual terms for years at miserable wages; brutalized companions picked up from all the ports of the world; tyrannical captains practicing a "sultanism" which Melville abhorred. A ship afloat is after all a prison. Melville was on three whalers in his four years at sea and from each, as we read in Typee and Omoo, the struggle is to escape, as he did when the boats anchored near exotic islands. He wrote about the misery of the whaling life, but not about whaling itself until he came to Moby-Dick. His imaginary whaler, the Pequod, death bound as it is, would be called, for an ordinary seaman, an agreeable berth. Ahab has no interest left beyond his internal struggle with one whale.Still, there is whaling, the presumption of it. When a whale is sighted small boats are detached from the main vessel and the men engage in a deadly battle to try to match, with flying harpoons, the whale's immense strength and desperation. If the great thing is captured, the deck of the main ship becomes an abattoir of blood and guts. The thick blubber is to be stripped, the huge head to be drained of its oils for soothing ambergris, for candles; the bones of the carcass make their way into corsets and umbrellas and scrimshaw trinkets. Moby-Dick is a history of cetology, an encylopedic telling of the qualities of the fin-back, the right whale, the hyena whale, the sperm whale, the killer whale, classified by size in mock academic form as folio, octavo, and so on.Information about a vanished world is one thing, but, above all else, this astonishing book is a human tragedy of almost supernatural suspensiveness, written in a rushing flow of imaginative language, poetical intensity, metaphor and adjective of consuming beauty. It begins on the cobbled streets of New Bedford, where Ishmael is to spend a few days before boarding the Pequod in Nantucket. The opening pages have a boyish charm as he is brought to share a bed with a fellow sailor, the harpooner Queequeg, an outrageously tattoed "primitive" who will be his companion throughout the narrative. Great ships under sail gave the old ports a rich heritage of myth, gossip, exaggeration, and rhetorical flights. Ishmael, on a Sunday, visits a whaleman's chapel to hear the incomparable sermon by Father Mapple on Jonah and the whale, a majestic interlude, one of many in this torrential outburst of fictional genius.As Ishmael and Queequeg proceed to Nantucket, the shadows of the plot begin to fall upon the pages. The recruits are interviewed by two retired sailors who will struggle to express the complicated nature of Captain Ahab. We learn that he has lost a leg, chewed off by a whale, and thus the fated voyage of the Pequod begins. Ahab has lost his leg to a white whale Moby Dick and is consumed with a passion for retribution. He will hunt the singular whale as a private destiny in the manner of ancient kings in a legendary world. However, Ahab is real and in command. The chief mate, Starbuck, understands the folly of the quest, the danger of it, and, as a thoughtful man longing to return to his wife and children, he will speak again and again the language of reason. "Vengeance on a dumb beast that simply smote thee from the blindest instinct! Madness! To be enraged with a dumb thing, Captain Ahab, seems blasphemous."The necessity of Starbuck's human distance from the implacable imperative of Ahab's quest illustrates the brilliant formation of this harrowing tale. But it is Ahab's story, his destiny, and, if on the one hand, he is a shabby, sea-worn sailor long mesmerized by mercurial oceans, he too has a wife at home and a child of his old age. We learn, as the story proceeds, that on a time ashore after his terrible wounding, he had fallen and by way of his whalebone leg been unmanned. He has suffered an incapacity not to be peacefully borne by one who in forty years had spent only three on land. Ahab knows the wild unsuitability of his nature, his remove from the common life. Read more

Features & Highlights

  • Herman Melville’s masterpiece in a deluxe 150th anniversary edition, one of the greatest works of imagination in literary history
  • Over a century and a half after its publication, Moby-Dick still stands as an indisputable literary classic. It is the story of an eerily compelling madman pursuing an unholy war against a creature as vast and dangerous and unknowable as the sea itself. But more than just a novel of adventure, more than an encyclopedia of whaling lore and legend, Moby-Dick is a haunting, mesmerizing, and important social commentary populated with several of the most unforgettable and enduring characters in literature. Never losing its cultural prescence, Melville’s nautical epic has inspired many films over the years, including the film adaptation of Nathanael Philbrick’s
  • In the Heart of the Sea
  • , starring Chris Hemsworth, Cillian Murphy, Ben Wishaw, and Brendan Gleeson, and directed by Ron Howard. Written with wonderfully redemptive humor,
  • Moby-Dick
  • is a profound and timeless inquiry into character, faith, and the nature of perception. This Penguin Classics deluxe edition features a foreword by Nathaniel Philbrick and prints the Northwestern-Newberry edition of Melville's text, approved by the Center for Scholarly Editions and the Center for Editions of American Authors of the MLA.For more than seventy years, Penguin has been the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world. With more than 1,700 titles, Penguin Classics represents a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators.

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"...a whale-ship was my Yale College and my Harvard."

"It's been years since I last read any of Melville's work. And the truth is that even now, at the age of sixty-two, I have yet to read MOBY-DICK." That's what I wrote last January in my review of "Bartleby the Scrivener." I'm still sixty-two ... I've just finished MOBY-DICK ... and I've only after all of these years realized that the title Moby-Dick is hyphenated. "But how now, Ishmael (p. 464)?

Enough said already in that earlier review about the tragedy of Melville's having died in near obscurity. Enough said, too, about the brilliance of his prose. As a matter of fact, I think I've said more than enough -- and would do better to turn the microphone (in a matter of speaking) over to Mr. Melville himself and let you be the judge of his craft. Know only that he's buried at Woodlawn Cemetery, in the Bronx, and that his gravesite and tombstone are as obscure as the end of his life. If I choose to quote Melville at length, it's now only to excite you to the author of MOBY-DICK -- and thereby to do my little part to try to rescue his good name from some of that obscurity.

Here, then, is Melville waxing philosophical... "There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he but dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke is at nobody's expense but his own. However, nothing dispirits, and nothing seems worth while disputing. He bolts down all events, all creeds, and beliefs, and persuasions, all hard things visible and invisible, never mind how knobby; as an ostrich of potent digestion gobbles down bullets and gun flints. And as for small difficulties and worrying, prospects of sudden disaster, peril of life and limb; all these, and death itself, seem to him only sly, good-natured hits, and jolly punches in the side bestowed by the unseen and unaccountable old joker. That odd sort of wayward mood I am speaking of, comes over a man only in some time of extreme tribulation; it comes in the very midst of his earnestness, so that what just before might have seemed to him a thing most momentous, now seems but a part of the general joke..." (pp. 243-244).

Melville qua whaleman, however, pays due homage to other philosophical heavyweights here (p. 345): "So, when on one side you hoist in Locke's head, you go over that way; but now, on the other side, hoist in Kant's and you come back again; but in very poor plight. Thus, some minds for ever keep trimming boat. Oh, ye foolish! throw all these thunder-heads overboard, and then you will float light and right." And then again here (p. 353): "This Right Whale I take to have been a Stoic; the Sperm Whale, a Platonian, who might have taken up Spinoza in his latter years."

And here he is just four pages later waxing poetical... "It was while gliding through these latter waters that one serene and moon-lit night, when all the waves rolled by like scrolls of silver; and, by their soft, suffusing seethings, made what seemed a silvery silence, not a solitude: on such a silent night a silvery jet was seen far in advance of the white bubbles at the bow...".

I may not always be in agreement with his punctuation, but I'd be a damned fool not to recognize the brilliance of his prose. And given that these two excerpts are only four pages apart, we might assume that Serendipity, Socrates and Sappho had all colluded -- together with an excellent claret or post-prandial cognac -- to ignite a particularly bright scintilla in Melville's mind the evening in which he penned this parcel of prose. So bright, in fact, that I'm quite willing to forgive him the gaffe (on p. 289) of referring to Albert (sic) Dürer as "that fine old Dutch savage." I doubt that Albrecht would've liked `Albert.' And no German worthy of his Teutonic plumage would've allowed himself to be called `Dutch.' Given what we know today about whale song, we might also forgive this bit of ignorance on p. 368: "...for it is not customary for such venerable leviathans to be at all social." But then, submarines and underwater microphones didn't exist in Melville's day.

But before we leave Melville the poet -- even if too long to quote in their entirety -- first on p. 506: "At such times ... and form one seamless whole"; then again on pp. 554 - 555: "It was a clear steel-blue day ... on the marge of that burnt-out crater of his brain." And these are just a few examples from a book that is rife (and ripe!) with them.

But what of Melville the iconoclast -- and at times, I dare say, the misanthrope? Writing on p. 374 of a whale under attack by Ishmael, Starbuck, Stubb and others: "For all his old age, and his one arm, and his blind eyes, he must die the death and be murdered, in order to light the gay bridals and other merry-makings of men, and also to illuminate the solemn churches that preach unconditional inoffensiveness by all to all." Or this, on p. 388: "Seldom have I known any profound being that had anything to say to this world, unless forced to stammer out something by way of getting a living. Oh! happy that the world is such an excellent listener!" Or this, on p. 401: "Best, therefore, withhold any amazement at the strangely gallied whales before us, for there is no folly of the beasts of the earth which is not infinitely outdone by the madness of men." And finally this, on p. 430: "Hereby Stubb perhaps indirectly hinted that though man loved his fellow, yet man is a money-making animal, which propensity too often interferes with his benevolence."

I would be doing Melville an ill service indeed if I failed, by way of conclusion, to mention his dry wit (very much in evidence, by the way, in "Bartleby the Scrivener"). On p. 362 we find: "A nose to the whale would have been impertinent. As on your physiognomical voyage you sail round his vast head in your jolly-boat, your noble conceptions of him are never insulted by the reflection that he has a nose to be pulled. A pestilent conceit, which so often will insist upon obtruding even when beholding the mightiest royal beadle on his throne." And finally this -- on p. 426: "By some, ambergris is thought to be the cause, and by others the effect, of the dyspepsia in the whale. How to cure such a dyspepsia it were hard to say, unless by administering three or four boat loads of Brandreth's pills, and then running out of harm's way, as laborers do in blasting rocks."

Leave it to Melville to construct a subtle syllogism from ambergris to whale-fart. Brandreth's pills -- we may assume -- were the laxative of Melville's day.

If it's not already obvious, I can't say enough about this book. I, personally, struggled with the dialogue, the punctuation, and with some of the more archaic constructions (not to mention the vocabulary -- so, let a good dictionary be your vade mecum for at least as long as you're attending to Melville!). But of all the novels I've ever read, I would have to place Melville's MOBY-DICK just after Cervantes' DON QUIXOTE and just ahead of Henry Fielding's TOM JONES, Dostoevski's CRIME AND PUNISHMENT, and Gustave Flaubert's MADAME BOVARY.

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Richly Told Tale Worth Every Page

What in our own lives is a monster whale? What would we foolishly die for? For Captain Ahab, the answer is in a great ocean beast. Those and other ponderous questions are the drive of Melville's message in "Moby Dick."

Summed up? Big whale. One man chases whale, bringing others with him. Catches whale, but not until after whale rips apart boat. Problem is whale is stronger than the man and drags him into the sea. This might sound simplistic, and, given the depth of detail Melville provides, it arguably is. However, through the rich descriptions of sea, whale and shipping, we have a simple tale. Though many of us have read it, we know reading it again is still an adventure. The suspense is not in not knowing what will happen, but in how Melville tells it.

Readers without the patience to enjoy an active psychological drama will be bored, but try to see past the drudging of sea life and into the souls of each character.

Man vs. man? Man vs. nature? Man vs. God? Hard call which archetype this is, but it is all of those conflicts wrapped into one.

I fully recommend "Moby Dick."

Anthony Trendl
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