Absolutism

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Melville continues to blatantly critique religion as we move through the exposition and finally on to the Pequod. Melville is not against religion but clearly sees a fundamental problem in the way it is practiced, the absolutism. There is so much religion to unpack, I don’t think I can narrow it down to a specific quote. What I have noticed is that Ishmael’s/Melville’s view on religion meanders in and out of Melville’s other messages outlined in Moby Dick. Melville critiques the absolute hero. Numerous celebrated classic novels depict heroes who possess a strong moral compass and are essentially unquestioned*. We are led to believe in an absolute preeminence in these protagonists. Like he does with religion, Melville teaches us to question this absolutism: “all mortal greatness is but disease.” (82) he claims as he explains the peculiarity of the Quaker whalers of Nantucket. Greatness is tied to morbidness because traditionally to become a great hero requires bloodshed. And to shed blood requires a moral compass with more directions for an arrow to point than just good vs evil. Religion is wrapped up in this lesson because it is the peaceful, practicing Quakers who are the most sanguinary whalers, “a man’s religion is one thing, and this practical world quite another.” (83) In our muddled society absolutism is not practical. One cannot fully heed religion when monetary gains are essential for survival. This is a modern concept for humanity in a newly industrialized world. Humans can no longer peacefully farm, trade, worship, repeat. They need money, they need land, and they need whale oil.

Queequeg as whale, as hero, as protagonist, as shepherd of the ocean embodies the questionable hero. Melville presents a hero who is not esteemed for religion, upbringing, or social class, but for the contents of his character, his heart and the skillset he demonstrates.  

*This leads me to believe this is the reason The Sermon includes the retelling of Jonah being questioned as he attempts to ship. And then again on page 79 Ishmael is questioned by Peleg and it is very reminiscent of the Sermon chapter.

*It also makes sense why Frankenstein and Moby Dick are compared to each other. It is not just the vivid imagery, the adventure, or the monstrosity but the grayness of morality that each of these novels lay out for us.

Elijah is a whistleblower!

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As we enter the miniature world of the Pequod, Ishamel is overcome with an internal struggle about his future and the uncertainty of his fate if he steps foot on the ship, exemplifying  how far humans can delude themselves when they know something is not right, even with red flags right in front of them. Ishamel is confronted by the ‘prophet’ Elijah who warns him not to go aboard the Pequod with Captain Ahab, described as a tyrant who demands that one “must jump when he gives an order.” Ishmael does not believe the warning signs, Elijah is a whistleblower of the Pequod, knowing from his own experience what Ishmael will go through. Elijah represents the countless whistleblowers throughout history who have risked their lives to undermine the authority that threatens all, and in this same pattern his image is tarnished, others gaslighted into believing he is mentally unstable, although this is mainly due to Ishmael’s own judgement, calling Elijah a “crazy man”. After Elijah’s physical exit, Ishmael describes the uncertainty he feels in the next chapter, noting “If I had been downright honest with myself, I would have plainly in my heart that I did but half fancy being committed this way to so long a voyage, without once laying my eyes on the man who was to be the absolute dictator of it,…But when a man suspects any wrong, it sometimes happens that if he be already involved in the matter, he insensibly strives to cover up his suspicions even from himself.” This describes a social experience that has occurred throughout different authoritative regimes, the belief in the ‘good life’ at the expense of all else, ignoring the treading across thinning lines that occur right before one’s eyes. Ishamel knows something is not right in the voyage he just committed to, he has a stake in the Pequod and it may be from pride or ignorance that he refuses to acknowledge both the bad signs that appear in front of him or his own internal suspicion. He actively lies to himself, making excuses like Elijah’s state of health making his claims unrooted. Humans have this unique ability to lie when they know something is not right, because being wrong puts everything at stake, and it demands that the life we know must change, that we ourselves may have done something wrong in the process. In the contemporary age of dictators, Moby Dick peels back the psyche of humans who have voted against their own rights, but the ship has already sailed before one can finally be honest. 

Week 7: A taste of history

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From meeting a cannibal to the chapel to the sermon to sharing a moment with a bosom friend, Moby-Dick is a novel that refuses to follow narrative conventions. For this post, I want to focus on chapter 14.

The beginning paragraphs of the chapter has Ishmael act as our lovely tour guide once again, inserting us the readers into the story as characters and addressing us directly much like chapter 1. He implores us to look once more, allowing us (the reader) to visualize the environment of Nantucket: “a mere hillock, and elbow of sand; all beach, without a background.” (Melville 69) However, as we read through the rest of the chapter, it turns out there is more to Nantucket than just its landscapes, as Ishmael notes of its agriculture, the people living there, and even its legend of how the town came to be. Herman Melville, through Ishmael, provides us a story within his story, a window to the past, to show how Nantucketers were able to specialize in the ocean to grow as a nation.

One thing Ishmael finds wonderous about Nantucket is how quickly it developed over time:

What wonder, then, that these Nantucketers, born on a beach, should take to the sea for a livelihood! They first caught crabs and quohogs in the sand; grown bolder, they waded out with nets for mackerel; more experienced, they pushed off in boats and captured cod; and at last, launching a navy of great ships on the sea, explored this watery world; put an incessant belt of circumnavigations round it; peeped in at Behring’s Straits; and in all seasons and all oceans declared everlasting war with the mightiest animated mass that has survived the flood; most monstrous and most mountainous! (70)

I believe Melville is trying to emphasize the richness of the ocean here, as well as give us a history lesson on Nantucketers and their worldly influence during the 19th century. Just how quickly did Nantucket go from catching crabs to conquering the seas? Ishmael doesn’t tell us the details, but it is implied that this evolution took place over a few decades. Nations take time to develop, but Nantucketers made use of openness of the sea and its inhabitants to grow quickly. The Nantucketer, as Ishmael says, “lives on the sea, as prairie cocks in the prairie; he hides among the waves, he climbs them as chamois hunters climb the Alps.” (70) Because they are accustomed to the ocean (they do live near it), they are able to take advantage of it and do things that aren’t normally possible on land.

Understanding the ocean is a fundamental part in understanding our world. There is still so many things to see in the ocean, and when we familiarize ourselves with it, we are able to achieve things that wouldn’t be possible on land alone. I’ve still yet to read the remaining chapters for this week, however; they weren’t kidding when they said Moby-Dick was a whale of a book.

Preparing the Spirit for the Sea

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What struck me about Chapter 17, “The Ramadan,” is the way that Melville transforms an act of silence into one of the finest acts of faith in the novel. When Ishmael discovers Queequeg prone in his room, fasting, his initial response is to fear that his friend has lost his mind or died. But what begins as terror ultimately becomes a lesson in willpower and determination. Observing Queequeg’s peace, Ishmael and the reader learn that one can have faith without words, sound, or even explanation. It is one practiced through patience and inner calm.

Ishmael admits that Queequeg’s rituals seem “absurd,” yet he refuses to mock them, saying he “cherish[es] the greatest respect towards everybody’s religious obligations, never mind how comical” (Melville 90). That line made me pause because it is one of the first moments where Ishmael looks beyond his own assumptions. Queequeg’s quiet devotion shows a kind of strength that is not about preaching or proving anything. Melville describes him as “altogether cool and self-collected; right in the middle of the room; squatting on his hams, and holding Yojo on top of his head. He looked neither one way nor the other, but sat like a carved image with scarce a sign of active life” (92). I love how that image turns stillness into power. It is as if Queequeg’s immobility becomes a shield against the world’s chaos.

What really stayed with me is how Ishmael’s restlessness contrasts with Queequeg’s calm. Ishmael grows “vexed” and impatient, while Queequeg remains unshaken. That difference says a lot about how each approaches the unknown: Ishmael through anxiety, Queequeg through acceptance. By the end, Ishmael realizes that his friend’s faith is not superstition but preparation, the mental strength to endure uncertainty.

This chapter elevates fasting beyond the level of a religious practice. It becomes a symbol of that self-discipline necessary to venture forth onto the vast, unpredictable sea. Queequeg’s quiet resilience feels like a preview of the courage both men will need once they leave land behind. His solitude is not emptiness; it is a state of focus that enables him to bring tranquility into the storm.

Suspicions…

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I may be overanalyzing, but if the book’s reputation holds any weight, perhaps the fact Peleg was suspicious of Ishmael on page 79 was because pirates would use the “merchant” excuse often. Captain Peleg said, “…what makes thee want to go a whaling, eg?–it looks a little suspicious, don’t it, eh?–Hast not been a pirate, hast thou?–Didst not rob thy last Captain, didst thou?–Dost not think of murdering the officers when thou gettest to sea?” This might be foreshadowing a pirate attack, but it might also be a genuine concern at the time. Alternatively, anyone without whaling experience or from outside the local area would naturally arouse suspicion and would be excluded from the crew. This piece of dialogue reflects on the themes of danger and trust, as discord may be sown mid-journey.

I still can’t get over The Sermon

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Setting: I’m writing this blog post on a Sunday afternoon in downtown Los Angeles at The Conrad hotel on the “larboard” side of the 27-story hotel, while my date preps for the Dua Lipa concert he’s taking me to for my 33rd birthday. Still, before I go, I relayed to him, I MUST post a blog post before my professor castrates me since I have not posted in two weeks. I have a supportive reason behind my lack of posting, but I know that won’t get me out of the harsh reality of getting a big fat goose egg (0) on the weekly assignments, but you can’t cry over spilled milk, so here we go.

Plot: As I read the assigned reading for the week, I still couldn’t stop thinking about Chapter 9, “The Sermon.” For me, this is the climax and foreshadowing of the entire novel. I’m not sure if anyone has written about this exact chapter, and if they did, frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn because Frank, this chapter is so relevant to what is going on in this sad, depressive state we call America. Farther Mapple is the equivalent of the pitiful human being we name Mike Johnson. Let’s begin, shall we? {insert the biblical story of Jonah and the whale} Jonah repents and is not begging for forgiveness. Still, confirmation of the life lived, and therefore whatever fate God (the whale) gives him shall be justified, regardless of personal opinion. If you sin, you have to repent. You have to apologize and ask for forgiveness, even knowing that some horrible fate may await you. This is one of the sins that Jonah commits; he defies God and then, on the ship in the storm, refuses to repent. That is why he’s swallowed up and taken to the depths of the ocean, until he finally admits his wrongdoing. And then, even from those same abyssal depths, God hears his plea and has mercy upon him.

“Shipmates, God has laid but one hand upon you; both his hands pressed upon me.” (p.53) Oh, so Mr. Mike Johnson, you think just like Mr Mapple, you’re holier than thou? It’s this use of religion to pray/prey upon the souls of those just willing and wanting to do good. The exact moral of this sermon is that our fate is predestined, and if God wants to consume you in the form of a whale, you must let him because your life is just that. A stepping stone for the rich and powerful to prosper. The chosen ones, as they call themselves. Mr Mapple diminishes the character of Jonah for the well-being of himself and those who would benefit from the prosperous tale. Because of Jonah’s ultimate martyrdom, he is seen as a beloved saint. Looks like Jonah and Charlie Kirk will have a lot to talk about when or if they meet.

I’ll leave you with some incomparable words from the “give us nothing” queen of Dua Lipa,

“I be like, “Ooh, it’s amusin'”
You think I’m gonna fall for an illusion.”

Chapter 17-18 (Thoughts on “The Other”)

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For the past seventeen chapters, Ishmael has reflected on religion a multitude of times. Each conversation tends to revolve around Queequeg’s “Pagan” actions, and I can’t help but feel like Melville really emphasizes the idea of “the other.” First, Ishmael recounts in chapter 17 of Queequeg silently fasting. “But when a man’s religion becomes really frantic; when it is a positive torment to him; and, in fine, makes this earth of ours an uncomfortable inn to lodge in; then I think it high time to take that individual aside and argue the point with him.” (94) Religion is brought it when it becomes a bother to Ishmael, when it starts to become a lot more foreign and unfamiliar. We had Mapple be highly emotional during the sermon, and Ishmael didn’t necessarily comment on that. It’s not different to him, it isn’t “other.” I could argue that in this day and age, many people use religion as an excuse to do highly extreme things. Part of me wonders if Queequeg did this in the name of the right “God,” would Ishmael still feel the same way despite claiming that there needs to be a means to argue?

And right after this chapter, we have Captain Bildad demands to see Queequeg’s papers. There’s this need for acclimation towards the majority, right as Bildad says “He must show that he’s converted. Son of darkness,’ he added, turning to Queequeg, “art thou at present in communion with any christian church?” (96), it becomes clear that the unfamiliarity towards a pagan cannibal’s presence and ways are unwelcome. They haven’t taken the time to be as open as Ishmael had been despite his initial confusion. I can only imagine the future development from here on out, but in all honesty, there’s this whole spiel about these whaling outcasts that just don’t fit in, even on a ship with each other.

The Pitiful Port: Melville’s Meditation on Safety and Freedom

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In Chapter 23, “The Lee Shore,” Ishmael pauses to reflect on the paradox of safety and danger, using the image of a ship struggling against the wind: “The port is pitiful; in the port is safety, comfort, hearthstone, supper, warm blankets, friends, and all that’s kind to our mortalities. But in that gale……the one touch of land, though it but graze the keel, would make her shudder through and through.” (Melville 116) This passage captures Melville’s fascination with the tension between the comfort of home and the perilous freedom of the open sea. On the surface, Ishmael seems to pity the ship for having to turn away from warmth and companionship, but beneath that pity, I think lies admiration. Admiration for the ship’s strong refusal to yield to safety. The repeated p sounds in “port,” “pitiful,” and “peril” emphasize the actual physical struggle of resistance, almost mimicking the ship’s heaving motion in the storm.

Melville’s language transforms the sea into a kind of moral testing ground. The ship, personified as a living being, “fights ‘gainst the very winds that fain would blow her homeward.” (Melville 116) It’s as if the forces of nature, which normally symbolize comfort, normalcy, and even mortality, try to push her back to safety, but she seemingly continues to reject them. Her “refuge’s sake” lies not in reaching the shore, but in being able to escape it. The paradox here is striking: the ship seeks survival through danger, finds peace in motion, and calls her “bitterest foe” (the sea) her “only friend.” I believe that Melville’s phrasing suggests that true existence, or what Ishmael later calls “the highest truth,” can only be found in defiance of stillness and complacency.

What’s really remarkable about this moment is how it extends beyond the image of the ship. The passage feels like a challenge from Melville to his readers: to question the value of safety and to consider whether comfort dulls our vitality. The port, with its “warm blankets” and “friends,” represents the easy life of certainty and convention within society. The ship, meanwhile, embodies the actual human soul that refuses to settle, even when that refusal means pain or destruction. Melville’s use of the word “forlornly” conveys both sorrow and beauty, showing that this restless search is lonely but necessary to grow.

By turning a simple nautical scene into a full-blown philosophical allegory, Melville continues to show that he makes the sea a mirror for human experience. To live meaningfully, he suggests, is to sail “offshore,” to face the unknown with courage even when the winds seem to demand our retreat. The ship’s struggle against being blown homeward becomes a symbol of human endurance, a strong insistence that the comfort of safety can never compare to the freedom found in risk.

Queequeg’s Ramadan: A Still Ignorant Ishmael

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There is a lot that could be discussed in this week’s writing–as it is a big chunk–however, what I found important to note was Ishmael’s thoughts on this “alien” practice of Queequeg’s.

Traditionally. Ramadan is a focused act of fasting, prayer, and conscious acts of compassion towards others. What we see with Queequeg here though, is fasting and prayer as he sits on his hams in their cold and dark room–his wooden doll “Yojo” on top of his head. Ishmael is aware that Queequeg is practicing this in his room, and initially think of himself right to not disturb his comrade. Although, Ishmael becomes increasingly worried and anxious that maybe his comrade might have had a stroke or been overcome by apoplexy.

What I specifically want to point out is Ishmael’s conflicting ideology of religious practices, despite having “the greatest respect towards everybody’s religious obligations, never mind how comical, and could not find it in [his] heart to undervalue even a congregation of ants worshiping a toad-stool; or those other creatures in certain parts of our earth…bow down before a torso of a deceased landed proprietor…” On the whole, this chapter still presents somewhat of a condescending view towards “half-crazy” practices outside of Ishmael’s experience. On pg. 94, Ishmael is finally able to sit Queequeg down and express that “fasting makes the body cave in; hence the spirit caves in; and all thoughts born of a fast must necessarily be half-starved.” This shows me Ishmael’s still ignorant nature, and more importantly, maybe Melville’s dismissive nature towards practices outside Presbyterian Christianity (dismissive might be too of a strong word to use here).

Ishmael and Religion

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I would like to argue that Ishmael has become hypocritical in accepting religion as the book progresses. Ishmael states numerous times over, “I have no objection to any person’s religion…so long as that person does not kill or insult any other person, because that other person don’t believe it also” (94). With this, the reader would assume that as his and Queequeg’s relationship and bond progress over the course of the novel, Ishmael would become more accepting of the differences between his religion and others. But, directly following the quote above, Ishmael states, “But when a man’s religion becomes really frantic…makes this earth of ours an uncomfortable inn to lodge in; then I think it high time to take that individual aside and argue the point with him” (94).

All of this turmoil within Ishmael began because of Queequeg’s day of fasting – Ramadan. And because of Ishmael’s lack of understanding of how Queequeg goes about Ramadan (kneeling in silence for a day with no food), he chooses to argue with Queequeg and attempt to get him to stop (you could arguably call this a conversion of some sort, if not to Christianity, then away from his own religious practices). It is hypocritical to reiterate throughout the novel how we should remove certain prejudices from our ways of thinking, especially regarding different religions, and even more so concerning that Ishmael is letting his ignorance feed into his fear of losing Queequeg. One could argue that, based on ignorance and prejudice, the likelihood of losing Queequeg is even stronger by those means than by any other. The novel seemingly contradicts different comparable topics: comparing men as one thing alongside the complete opposite, or writing so that their speech does not reflect their internal monologue or thoughts.

I believe this to be hypocritical; while it could be seen as a reflection of Ishmael’s concern for Queequeg’s well-being, this moment in the novel directly reveals the boundaries between Ishmael’s radical openness towards different religious practices and the difference between mental/intellectual acceptance of these practices and Ishmael’s practical interaction with them.