For class this semester, I bought a copy of the book so that I could write in it. I only started writing in books a few years ago, and have been enjoying the practice of it. It is nice to be able to look back on these annotations and see how my perspective has changed on the same words. It reminds me of keeping a journal and looking back on past entries to see how much I have changed. I annotate in a few different ways. I underline the passages/sentences I find most important, either to the ‘plot’ (not that there is really one in this book), or by what strikes a particular chord inside of me whether because of the topic or how the sentence was written. I also use square brackets for a few different reasons. Either to highlight longer paragraphs that would be unsatisfying to underline completely, to emphasize something within an already underlined part, or something I think is important but not important enough to be underlined. Many uses for the same thing. I also used post-it notes for chapters I found particularly relevant and wanted to discuss. In the margins, I often wrote down notes or thoughts as they came. Sometimes at the end of striking chapters, I would write more where there was space after the chapter ended.
This process enhanced my reading and interpretations of Moby Dick by forcing me to slow down and reread. Had I not been writing and underlining in this book, I probably would have been doing a lot more skimming. It also helped for bringing ideas to class because I could see what I had underlined or comments I had written, which was helpful because I often forgot what parts stuck out most to me. I also think this enhanced my reading by making me think critically about what I was reading, because I didn’t want to just write nonsensical comments in the margins (although that too happened sometimes).
Last semester, I broke my biggest rule I have regarding novels, that being no writing in them, no exceptions whatsoever. For whatever reason, I was overcome with feelings for the novel, and was compelled by the novel itself to write within it. It is thanks to Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Grey that I now feel comfortable with annotating my novels; highlighting, writing, anything I feel is needed in the moment. Typically, it comes from this overwhelming feeling deep within me to tell someone of this moment. However, with no one to turn to, my notes app glares my way! Even this did not satisfy my seemingly insatiable need to convey this information within myself to another. I think what Professor Pressman has said has forever changed how I view annotating, but also captured what it was that I was seeking in that moment. I was seeking another to share my thoughts, but who better to share these thoughts with than the other themselves? As Professor has said, we are writing back to the author through the act and art of annotating. It was in that moment that I needed to write to Wilde, and that has very much stayed with me as time moves forward. If Dorian Grey was tempting me to write within his pages, then Moby-Dick is practically begging to be written in!
On this page, I wrote about the relationship I noticed between the biblical story of Eve and her temptation by the apple. I felt as though Ishmael had begun to be tempted in a similar way to Queequeg, especially as a Christian man. The highlighted segments point to areas that made me think of something else; not in a way of “I wish I were reading x or watching y right now”, but more of a possible connection to something else, whether it be an academic idea or more of a fun idea, as we see on the following image.
In the final page of chapter 10–everyone’s favourite chapter, I’m sure–shows how far Ishmael has fallen for Queequeg. He WAS a good Christian, he let Queequeg place tobacco and fifteen dollars in silver into his pockets, to which I replied, as I’m sure everyone else did, by writing “BOTTOM!” on the top of the page. Here, I saw Ishmael allowing Queequeg to do whatever it is he wanted. It echoed similar feelings I had when I read Catcher in the Rye, in that both of these characters say one thing, but never follow through, often times becoming walking contradictions and massive hypocrites. In this case, Ishmael becomes such by speaking of his religion and lamenting sleeping with Queequeg initially to the manager at the inn where they met. He speaks of his religion and his conviction to not trusting “cannibals”, and yet here he is, putty in Queequeg’s hands. The underlined section is what the written note refers to, but it is also a note to close read the language used, as he is letting it happen, not that Queequeg forced this upon him to a rejection, but an acceptance of Queequeg’s ways, at least the very first sprouting of such a relationship that flowers throughout the novel.
Through taking this class, the use of different pen colours and highlighters seems mandatory in order to cover everything one wants to examine on reread. In doing such annotations, it becomes a conversation that then helps the reader understand the text more, allowing for deeper conversations and writings on the novel, all through conversing with Melville in the margins of our novels. What I’ve gained from this exercise is how each and every time we read, the novel becomes an adaptation. We all read and understand differently, no matter how slight, and this shows best in the annotations of the novel. I cannot imagine how others annotated, especially with sticky notes, that is seemingly impossible for me! It’s a great reminder that we are all so different but that creates the spice of life, as they say. Learning from one other through our differing ways of thinking only helps us grow, not only as students, but as people!
For Halloween I had dressed up as Stubb. I had worn a white button up to signify I was a whaler/sailor, I had brought a pipe, and I had a paper sailor hat. Melville describes Stubb as a man that has “impious good humor” and is always smoking on his pipe- “For, like his nose, his short, black little pipe was one of the regular features of his face” (129). Stubb was for sure one of my favorite characters in the novel as I really liked his outspokenness and just thought he was cool.
Since we have concluded our misadventures on the high seas among the crew of the Pequod, I have felt a whale-sized hole within myself. As one does, I tried to fill this hole with interesting facts about whales! In doing so, I have found out how dangerous aquatic vehicles can be to our sea-life, and whales in particular. There is that famous photo of the whale’s eye, such a detailed and close look of such a mythical and legendary creature, captured by Rachel Moore who called this whale “Sweet Girl”, on account of the whale’s youth. While this whale is a humpback and not a sperm whale as Moby-Dick is, the damage caused to her by a boat is all the same. Unfortunately, only days after that photo was taken, she was killed by a boat, which tore her jaw apart. For the past few weeks, those sounds, those images, they play in my mind incessantly; whenever a moment is quiet or before I fall asleep, I only hear her. To think that we humans, through our evolution as a society, were able to create such a vehicle that can transport us from one side of the world to the other, from old worlds to new ones, wreak such havoc to the creatures just below our feet.
I have decided to go with this photo because my friend works on these types of boats, a ferry and a whale watching vessel. These vessels allow us to move through the bodies of water, to allow those without land-based automobiles to go to Coronado, to view these creatures we hardly understand, to gain new experiences to follow us for the rest of our lives. And yet, it is with these machines that we harm these creatures we seek to ‘watch’, as these journeys promise. Beforehand, I used to be wary of these sorts of excursions because I was worried—fearful even!—of these creatures landing atop of us as they leap from the seas in which they reside. Now I cannot help but think of how dangerous this could be for the whale in which we pay to watch; how many of these journeys have directly resulted in harming, or even killing the very same whales they hope to observe?
I am left with these questions by the end of it all, confused at how stories like these are not larger stories, are of no concern to many people. I feel this class has given me the building blocks to only just begin to answer these questions. Perhaps it is our terrestrial based society that causes these rifts between us and the happenings at sea. Maybe it is our insistence on separating humans and animals, society and nature. I think about my friend and how little he cares about it all, how it’s just another day, another dollar, no thoughts outside of the immediate; “Can’t wait for lunch!”; “Wonder if I can pick up another shift before next week”; “Time to move the chairs again”. This mundanity of his everyday life and job has seemed to suck out any of his remaining empathy for the wildlife in which he guides his paying customers to on the daily. Could it be that our society is one that is far too selfish and busy with the immediate thoughts and concerns that we lack the empathy to feel for these animals until it is far too late? When is it that we will care enough to put forth ideas to end such preventable deaths?
I used various methods of annotating this semester, and here are some samples of the methods I ended up settling on. Overall, they made my reading experience a whole lot easier – I kept better track of the characters, plots, and themes of the book than I would have without said annotations.
I started of by check marking each chapter in the table of contents as I finished – not as a way of tracking my reading, necessarily, but as a way of encouragement, so that I could see my progress through the story. I also marked what needed to be read for each class, so that way I could stay focused on physical paper rather than constantly checking my computer. It allowed me to focus on the book itself when I had said questions about how much I had to read.
I also wrote brief 1-2 sentence summaries at the end of each chapter. In the past, when reading large books, I noticed that parts of the plot get forgotten, or it’s hard for me to keep track of all the different characters in plot threads. Thus, the solutions – chapter summaries. Sometimes they were bare bones, like this one, or they were more expansive, and sometimes humorous – it was one of many ways I found myself expressing my boredom throughout the book.
Lastly I used multiple methods of marking up the text itself. Initially I used both brackets and underlining interchangeably, but towards around the half way point I started using underlining for words or phrases that stood out to me, and brackets for longer pieces of texts – anywhere from a couple of sentences to a paragraph or so. I also wrote notes for, as in this example, I noticed references to other works, religion, or even literary techniques such as metaphors or imagery.
Overall, I would say that annotating greatly enhanced my understanding of the book. As a typically fast reader, it forced my to slow down and look at the details. This helped a ton when close reading, both in blog posts and within in class discussions.
I plan on using the methods I developed reading Moby Dick in other classes where I read an entire novel.
This past weekend I took a trip south to Ensenada Mexico and it was a beautiful scenic drive down the Baja Californian coast. It has been 15 years since I was last able to visit the country in which I was born and even more still since I made a trip along this part of the coast. As I witnessed the setting sun illuminate the sea with gold light and paint the mountains in red I thought about how much I have changed since I was last there. I was a young girl and now I am a 30 year old woman. I look at this body of water where the concept of borders is simply an impossibility and I my first instinct is to think it unchanged. But that’s not true, the coastline has changed. The buildings along the coast used to be sparse. Now, across large stretches I see the sprouting of construction, all in varied states of progress. Some buildings that were never finished, left with gaping holes showing rusting innards of steel. The sea air has already started to consume them. Here and there are boulders that have fallen from the seaside cliffs. All this time, the sea has not stopped its process of erosion. It’s changed though in ways more imperceptive than my own. Of course my change is more pronounced, it is a finite amount of time that i’ll inhabit this world. But the sea has been here since times inmemorial. I feel humbled as the sun finally vanishes and the sea withdraws into darkness.
Thinking about which body of water feels the most personal to me was an interesting exercise. I come from the middle of the desert; Imperial Valley, CA, one of the hottest places on Earth, and the bodies of water in my immediacy are not naturally occurring. In my county, the largest bodies of water I see on a daily basis are canals running through our desert land. Despite being one of the hottest regions in the world, we do not experience water shortages because these canals, supplied by the Colorado River, feed our agricultural community with potable water year round. This, to me, exemplifies the blend of nature and man’s intervention in the creation of life: both factors had to be combined to sustain the life we lead today. I grew up watching these canals through my car window as we rode through town. It was when I started entering my teenage years that I realized I also had water to cherish in my own home, and I was lucky enough to not just be able to use it everyday, but also see it with my own eyes as I drive through my desert town. The flat, open landscape is the perfect backdrop to appreciate the contrast running water makes on dry land. It is difficult not to appreciate the ordinary beauty of these canals under the sun. The powerful rays bounce off the surface on a clear day and they sparkle in your vision. The water is constantly clear and mesmerizing, and perfectly reflects the deep blue sky. The edges of the water are framed by tangled vegetation that grows through the cracks of the concrete and it reminds you that life always finds a way.
And yet, these givers of life also bring death. One of the most shocking sights to me has always been at the edge of these canals, where you can often find a cross sticking out from the ground. The crosses are often simple; just two pieces of wood nailed together, with maybe an inscription of the name. Sometimes they are decorated with small fairy lights or artificial flowers, and sometimes they might even include a picture of a person. These are shrines to people that have suffered accidents, maybe gone swimming in the canal or tried crossing them for another reason, and have died by drowning as a result. Ever since I was a kid, this has been a constant motif in my landscape (in my hometown particularly, which is a border town), a reminder never to get in the canals, and of the fragility of life. We are an overwhelmingly Hispanic population, and these colorful shrines are just one more example of how Mexicans culturally deal with and process death. And yet that which can kill us also constantly gives us abundant life and prosperity as a community. Life and death coexist together in the running water of the canals. I was privileged enough to have grown up occasionally travelling to the beach on summer break, sometimes over here to San Diego or to beaches in Ensenada and Rosarito, or having access to a pool to play in once in a while. The people who played and died in the canals might have done so because they lacked this privilege, so their experience with water was tainted with considerably more danger than mine. It is in these situations that we can see how access to water recreationally (and otherwise) is not only a geographical question, but an economical one, and sometimes it means the difference between life and death. It isn’t something to be taken for granted.
In my hometown, we have a bridge that goes over one of these canals, and every time I cross it, I look over my shoulder to admire the calm surface of the water, even if for a second. Something I got from my mom, it has become a habit to always check the water level, see how we are doing. When the water is high, I always take a moment to mutter a quiet prayer: “Thank you, God,” for the blessing of water.
To preface this, I’m a librarian. I struggle a lot with annotating my novels, especially ones that I hold dear, because I worry that they will cause them to fall apart faster. Moby-Dick has somewhat proven this to be true, as I have already had to use Book Tape to secure the cover in place, but it’s also really shown how much the novel itself has affected me and the ways that it’s changed my engagement with novels. I think another thing to note is that I’ve changed this copy as much as it has changed me.
I bought a second copy for my final project and decided to use it as a direct comparison to my own copy. The left copy was purchased new at the beginning of the semester. The right copy was found second-hand but in good condition. From the way that they look, I would have assumed the opposite prior to owning them.
While not super apparent in this photo, the copy with the annotations, pictured on the bottom, actually stands a little taller than the fresh copy – as though my own interpretations have caused the very pages to swell with new meaning.
Through this class, I’ve fully grown comfortable with annotating as a means of better understanding and taking the time to slow down with a novel. My annotations started as simple personal notes – haha, oh wow, etc – and evolved into ways to track the sections we mentioned during class that I may have missed, sections that struck me as full of depth, notes on the historical context, as well as questions that I want to ask myself on later reads. My annotations have become a roadmap for close reading the novel, with the tabs marking most (I ran out of tabs twice) of the annotations throughout the book.
For this extra credit assignment, I elected to read Nathaniel Philbrick’s Why Read Moby-Dick?, a short collection of essays that act as a tour through the information imperative to readers of Herman Melville’s novel. Much like the introductory slides from this course, or even the introduction to Moby-Dick itself, this book contextualizes Moby-Dick in ways that are simply important for our understanding of it. Sprinkled throughout are these little nuggets of love that Philbrick clearly has for the novel, bits of information that show a kind of sincerity that dry, academic essays lack such as the fact that Chapter 85, The Fountain, begins with a precise look at when Melville was writing this particular chapter of the novel – fifteen and a quarter minutes past one o’clock P.M. of this sixteenth day of December, A.D. 1850. It was only after publication that the date was changed to 1851 in the novel.
Something that struck with me was in the second chapter, Landlessness, when Philbrick explains the circumstances of how Melville first learned of the Essex. While on a whaling voyage, they met up with another whaleship, the Lima, which had Owen Chase’s son aboard. This son lent Melville his copy of Owen Chase’s account of the Essex – which he read – near the latitude that the Essex sank at. He was there – on a whaleship of his own – in the place that it happened while he read about the tragedy. I can completely understand why this would have “a surprising effect” on him (12), as I’ve had an adjacent experience.
For the holidays in 2019, I was gifted a book called Mass Effect Andromeda: Annihilation. The story follows the journey of the quarian-led ark ship, Keelah Si’yah, which is carrying colonists from various Milky Way species which were not part of the other four ark ships seen in Andromeda. While enroute to its destination, a disease outbreak is discovered among some of the colonists placed in cryo-sleep. This disease is able to infect all species aboard the ark, it is an airborne pathogen, and it is highly deadly. I read this novel in January 2020, working at a restaurant chain that sells soups while my coworkers were all getting sick from some mysterious virus that was putting us all out of commission. It was not until March 2020 that we learned exactly what this mysterious virus was, but that novel truly terrified me. I have not reread it since.
Taking my own experience into consideration, the writing of Moby-Dick feels inevitable for someone like Herman Melville. How could he not be moved to do something with his experience? This book provides ample other insight into the life of Melville, into the inner workings of his mind that lead to the creation of this great American classic. If anyone is at all interested in re-reading the novel, I would recommend reading this book first. It’s a scant 127 pages long, broken up into 28 chapters, well worth the time and fully available for free at the San Diego Public Library.
I believe that the book is able to get its credit after the antebellum period in America, because, much of the reason why the book had failed was because much of our nation’s foundation relied on the very things Melville attested against in the big book. This left the American conservatives offended and the British audiences to be spectators amused by the entertainment it brought to them. Majority of both sides ruled out the big book as excessive and not moving. It is mentioned that only some critics saw the significance of Moby Dick for what it embodied to them at a critical time: a social commentary that is striking because it is broad and extensive, confronting multiple perspectives of an underlying issue without constructing the focal point down to one commentary.
Reigel indirectly points out this marveled technique of Melville, stating that, “From what that ‘Herman Melville’ character is which has been discovered by recent critics, and its meaning to modern life, one must go to the works and autobiographies”(Reigel 200). This book is not just action packed and blood-gore filth entertainment that some Americans and British readers thought this was; but, it is a book that memorializes and fossilizes human record and tragedy in order to preserve the real horror of humanity in the world. The author does not completely remove himself from the destruction, but being seen as a “character” in his own novel, he alters how novels are merely narrative for narrative’s sake; he represents and volunteers as the active agent in American society. One can be acceptive of this meditation, or one can be instantly offended by its general exploitation in all accounts and write off this novel as excessive. Whatever the case, many critics during the 19th century have kept this book as a way to pave the American consciousness that is direct and instigative, moving the era where post-modernism emerges.
