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Essay 2 – I’d Rather Feel Your Spine

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In Chapter 80 of Moby Dick, Ishmael mocks the 19th-century pseudo-scientific practice of phrenology through a faux-scientific analysis of the whale’s skull that exposes the absurdity of determining intellectual and moral qualities through physical form. Ishmael’s exaggerated attempts to measure the whale’s intellectual qualities through the size and shape of its skull and preference to feel a man’s spine to categorize him, rather than his skull, critique humanity’s misguided attempts to categorize nature’s creations through flawed and doctored systems of knowledge.

Although Moby Dick was written in the 1850s when science was not at its best and pseudo-science was rampant in a pathetic attempt to expand colonization and white superiority, some of the points that Ishmael proposes can easily be understand or dismissed as being common sense. He begins the chapter by stating, “If the Sperm whale be physiologically a Sphinx, to the phrenologist his brain seems that geometrical circle, which is impossible to square” (381). Comparing the whale to a mythological Sphinx does us no good in producing scientific evidence, but throughout the novel, constant mention of ancient Egypt, the Sphinx, and hieroglyphics has symbolized the difficulty in reading a human’s skin, behavior, or mind. Following this quote, the chapter reads, “But in life – as we have elsewhere seen – this inclined plane [the skull]  is angularly filled up, and almost squared by the enormous super incumbent mass of the junk and sperm” (381). Almost immediately, Ishmael dismantles the idea that the whale’s brain cannot be “squared”, according to phrenologists, proposing that the scientific evidence and ideas produced by them can easily be debunked. There is difficulty in reading the human brain and his characteristic through his skull, and the easy debunking of Ishmael’s first claim quickly leads into the dismantling of the use of phrenology. 

A whale is massive in size, meaning that its brain is much bigger than a human’s as is all of the material built up inside of it, meaning that it is also difficult for us to read the skull and brain with all the tissue surrounding and protecting it.  As the chapter continues, Ishmael states, “Lying in strange folds, courses, and convolutions, to their apprehensions, it seems more in keeping with the idea of his general might to regard that mystic part of his as the seat of his intelligence” (381). Here he is contributing to the views of phrenologists; throughout the entire novel, Ishmael is known for stating something and directly contradicting it, and so on and so forth as it progresses. The bulk of the whale’s head, from an outside perspective, shows no expanse of where the brain might sit, if any, creating the idea of a “false brow to the common world” (382), one that depicts the creature as brainless because its brow cannot be read to formulate the size or existence of its brain. Once more, this novel is set in a time where phrenology depicted the characteristics of humans based off of the shape of their skull, and the lack of brains within, producing false scientific evidence that made Europeans morally and physically superior to their black counterparts. Applying this idea to the whale would indicate that, despite its size, skill, intelligence, and danger, it is but a mindless creature, passive and almost idiotic in sense, because we cannot read his skull from his exterior. 

Once more, a contradiction comes into play as Ishmael talks down on the pseudo-scientific practice of phrenology by dismissing the investigations through the skull and proposing the evidence be taken from the spine of the whale, or human. He states, “For I believe that much of a man’s character will be found betokened in the backbone, I would rather feel your spine than your skull, whoever you are. A thin joist of a spine never yet upheld a full and noble soul. I rejoice in my spine, as in the firm audacious staff of a flag which I fling half out to the world” (382). The idea that the backbone upholds more of a man’s character represents the part of our body that carries us; yes, our heads and feet assist in the balance of the human body whilst being upright, but the spine is such a vast expanse of bone that connects the head, torso, and lower body that is is arguably of more importance than the reading of the skull. With no backbone, a man is weak; a “spineless” individual has been depicted as a weak or immoral one for centuries, someone who does not have the nerve to speak up, stand out, and defend. Ishmael compares the human spine to the spinal cord of the whale, its size never wavering in comparison to its skull as it tapers down into the tail. It is directly connected to the skull, a path that feeds mobility and strength. The final sentence of the above quote is also symbolic of the strength of men, or the weakness of them. To compare the spine to a flag is representative of the backbone of the country; in a time where scientific evidence is altered for desired results, making white men more superior than black men, these men are ultimately lacking in a backbone. Their flag does not stand upright, it falters and sags, and cannot be thrown out unwavering to the rest of the country. It is reflective of the country’s lack of morals, despite the phrenological evidence that it has more than the “other”. 

Ishmael’s mockery of phrenology and pseud-scientific evidence compares the skull and spine of the whale to man, and proposing the dismissal of scientific practices that create falsified evidence. To depict a man’s character through a part of the body that is shrouded by flesh, muscle, and tissue makes it difficult to understand them, and thus can be twisted into creating misconceptions about them. However, to define a man by the part of his body that holds him upright, that, in Ishmael’s eyes, is connected to the noble soul, you can better define a man by his strength, skill, and prowess. With this, all the “evidence” of pseudo-science can be dismissed, for the false brow of the whale hides the true mass of his brain, and the morality of his soul.

Chapter 113: The Forge: I’m Crazy, Your Crazy, We’re Crazy!

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The more and more and more I read this book and Melville’s obsession with sanity and insanity for his characters is quite strategic since he wants us to understand, but explore the truth, obsession and limits if human understanding. In chapter 113, ” The Forge”, Melville transforms a simple craftmanship to more of a symbolic ritual of obsession and sacrilege. Ahab commands the blacksmith to forge him a new harpoon, that he swears will actually kill Moby Dick. When the forge of the harpoon is done, he asked for his three harpooners-Tashtego, Queequeg, and Daggoo to offer some of their blood as a symbol of baptism.

“Ego non baptizo te in nomine patris, sed in nomine diaboli!” (532), meaning ” I do not baptize you you in the name of the Father, but in the name of the Devil,” Ahab reverses the role of a sacred baptism, not to God, but to his own rage and obsession. This demonstrates Ahab’s rebellion towards Christianity and his hellish transformation of pure revenge. In this scene, he kind of acts like an anti-priest who performs a dark sacrament and using blood from his “disciples” as a sacrifice for the “sake” of revenge. It gave me the chills, just imagining what’s going through Ahab’s mind and how slowly and cruel he’s becoming, demonstrating his way of thinking and how he craves revenge like a man thirsting for water. Melville deepens the atmosphere in the lines of this quote, “This done, pole, iron, and rope-like the Three Fates- remained inseparable, and Ahab moodily stalked away with the weapon; the sound of the hickory pole, both hollowly ringing along every plank. But ere he entered his cabin, a light, unnatural. half-bantering, yet most piteous sound was was heard. Oh Pip! thy wretched laugh, thy idle but unresting eye; all thy strange mummeries not unmeaningly blended with the black tragedy of the melancholy ship, and mocked it!” (533) in the quote, Melville invokes the usage of the Greek mythology the myth of the Three Fates who are goddesses who control the destiny of every living being from their birth to death, it demonstrates on how Ahab’s destiny is now sealed with a weapon and as his creator, he’s now set for what’s coming to him by fate and death. This moment reflects Melville’s warning towards the use of the destructive power of man’s obsession and man’s defiance against religion.

The only thing I like about this book so far is about how Melville uses metaphors, imagery, and philosophical moments, but also the bashing of religion that intrigues me. Even the mythology references.

Ebb and Flow

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In Chapter 111 on page 525, Melville wrote “The waves should rise and fall, and ebb and flow unceasingly…” It was part of a sentence, but what caught my eye is the word “should.” Why “should”? Why not “will” or “can”? But as I read further, I realized that this explains the inevitability of life itself. It is the only part of the full sentence that sounds rhythmic, like how waves themselves move. The word “unceasingly” simply means “eternal.” In other words, the waves move eternally. Adding the implication, Melville presenting the sea as a symbol of constant motion also becomes how life is in constant motion.

“The waves should rise and fall” suggests the ups and downs of life. It’s basically not normal for an entire lifespan to be completely calm and serene. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to be happy. We have emotions so we can experience life like a rollercoaster, or rather a storm in a voyage. Mistakes are made to teach. Failures and setbacks show flaws. You can strive for the calm and serene, but the journey to get there will never be.

“Ebb and flow” suggests a cycle of experiences. Many things can restart, many things can be relived. The most vivid example is the damning fact Moby Dick teaches you how to read after already knowing how to read. The phrase “ebb and flow” shows how life teaches: even with everything you have learned, there’s still thousands more to know.

Why Melville consciously chose “should” and nothing else is because life “should” rise and fall, ebb and flow, as you grow as a person.

Loveliness Unfathomable

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In Chapter 114, “The Gilder,” we see a rare moment of faith that momentarily interrupts the darkness that pervades Moby-Dick. Looking out at the calm, sunlit sea, Starbuck softly declares, “Loveliness unfathomable, as ever lover saw in his young bride’s eye! — Tell me not of thy teeth-tiered sharks, and thy kidnapping cannibal ways. Let faith oust fact; let fancy oust memory; I look deep down and do believe.” The tone here is startlingly romantic, one could even argue, devotional, as Starbuck compares the ocean’s beauty to that of a lover’s gaze. His use of “unfathomable” carries a double meaning, as it refers both to the literal depth of the sea and to its spiritual or emotional mystery, something that cannot be fully understood or measured. By personifying the ocean and addressing it directly, Starbuck acknowledges that it’s a living presence, treating it almost as a divine being. Yet, his language is also defensive or nervous. The command “Tell me not of thy teeth-tiered sharks” reveals a conscious effort to suppress the darker aspects of the sea, as though faith itself requires him to silence what he may or may not know to be true.

When Starbuck says, “Let faith oust fact; let fancy oust memory,” Melville captures the tension between spiritual idealism and lived experience. Each pair of opposites listed represents conflicting ways of perceiving the world. Fact and memory are the tangible realities of whaling that we can see: blood, death, and brutality. Faith and fancy, on the other hand, belong more to the imagination, an almost inner realm where hope can still survive. The repeated verb “oust” suggests a kind of internal struggle, maybe even violence, as if belief must forcibly remove reality to be able to endure. Starbucks’ plea, then, is not naïve but desperate. He knows exactly what the sea (and humankind) is capable of, yet he chooses to believe in its beauty. This active substitution of replacing knowledge with belief reveals the cost of maintaining faith in an environment shaped by danger and moral corruption.

Melville seems to situate this moment within a broader pattern throughout the novel, where the crew alternates between seeing the sea as a site of terror and transcendence. For Ahab, the ocean mirrors divine indifference and becomes an enemy to be conquered. For Ishmael, it represents a vast, unfixed mystery that draws him toward humility. Starbuck, however, tries to reconcile these opposing views by turning to faith. His insistence that “faith oust fact” is not simply religious but existential because it becomes a survival mechanism for someone trapped between moral conscience and obedience to Ahab’s doomed mission.

The final line, “I look deep down and do believe,” solidifies this tension between perception and truth. The phrase “deep down” implies both introspection as well as descent into the ocean, the self, and the unseen. Melville’s syntax seems very purposeful here. It slows the reader, as if mimicking the steady, deliberate act of belief itself. The simple, emphatic “do believe” reads like a vow. A deliberate act of will against possible despair. Yet there is ambiguity in what he believes. Does Starbuck truly find divinity in the sea, or is his faith a fragile illusion meant to stave off any madness? The line holds both possibilities. To “look deep down” may mean confronting the abyss, acknowledging that faith and destruction coexist in the same depth.

This passage captures Melville’s meditation on the human need to find meaning within a hostile world. Starbuck’s moment of reverence does not erase the ocean’s “kidnapping cannibal ways,” but it does reveal a deeper truth: that belief itself is an act of courage. To see “loveliness unfathomable” in something that is so deeply unknown is to assert that beauty and faith can persist, however tenuously, even amid the knowledge of violence. Melville gives Starbuck this brief vision of transcendence not as comfort, but as contrast. It is a fleeting reminder of how fragile the light of faith can be when set against the vast, indifferent sea, but sometimes it’s exactly what we need.

Chapter 112 – The Blacksmith

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During our readings, I am always careful to take careful consideration for a chapter dedicated to any one specific character. Since the blacksmith has hardly ever been mentioned, or only been introduced as a means of dialogue between him and another more important character, I decided to do a bit more research on the language and references made to him. Towards the end of the chapter reads the lines “But one night, under cover of darkness, and further concealed in a most cunning disguisement, a desperate burglar slid into his happy home, and robber them of everything. And darker yet to tell, the blacksmith himself did ignorantly conduct this burglar into his family’s heart. It was the Bottle Conjuror” (pg. 528). What an odd name to give a burglar…

After a bit of research, I realized that the “Bottle” aspect of the burglar’s name was what held the most importance. It wasn’t a man that had come in and robbed the family of everything they owned and loved, it was alcoholism. The blacksmith had fallen into drinking and thus lost his possessions, his home, and then his family. Alcoholism has always been known, across various fields, for destroying not just the individuals addicted to alcohol, but the people around them. My research further brought about information of a magician, around 1749 in London, England, who proposed the trick that he could fit within a glass bottle, failed to do so, and in turn the audience burned down the event and tent he was performing in. This can be used as a means of representing how quickly the blacksmith’s alcoholism burned down everything he loved, and his ties to his loved ones, leading him to “the guilt of intermediate death (suicide)” (529) and thus resulting in his being on the Pequod in current time of the novel. Ishmael had stated during the beginning chapters of the novel that men who contemplated suicide often sought out ships and whaling as a better means of self-destruction. After burning ties to everything he cared about, instead of committing suicide, the blacksmith turned to a whaling voyage, one that prolongs his death, but leads to it nonetheless.

Chapter 93: The Castaway, ” The Castaway”,

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In chapter 93 of Moby Dick, Ishmael reflects, ” So man’s insanity is heaven’s sense; and wandering from all mortal reason, man comes at last to that celestial thought, which to reason, is absurd and frantic; and weak or woe, feels then uncompromised, indifferent as his God,”(454) the quote transforms the idea of madness from being known as weak into a form of divine understanding. We see Pip, a young cabin boy who is left adrift at in the vast ocean, who experiences trauma, so badly, he loses touch with humanity itself. I think Melville often uses and questions the human definitions of sanity and reason, like in this chapter, he demonstrates in a tragic and spiritual way. Melville shows, in Pip’s point of view, explores on how the moments of extreme isolations and suffering can lead to a persons beyond reasoning of humanity. What’s the whole obsession with the sanity of the human mind that peaks Melville’s interest towards it?

Pip’s experience reminds me of Annie Cresta from The Hunger Games. Just like Pip, Annie endures the overwhelming trauma from not just witnessing her tribute member being decapitated in front of her, but also from drowning after the whole arena malfunctioned. Her being from District Four (known to be a district of water and fishing) she knew how to swim and was the only survivor hence made her the winner. But at what cost though? She’s considered unstable by the Capitol due to her losing her mind and going insane after her traumatic experience she was found basically useless, but that also shows her fragility and how cruel the world can be. Both of these characters embody on how innocence collides with inhumanity, such as, sensitivity, being mistaken for madness, and is their true respond to their suffering. Both Pip and Annie challenge society’s discrimination of sanity being called mad for no good reason at all. Both characters are gentle souls who have endured enough trauma that it transforms their sanity into understanding.

The more I read into the book it just makes me question and overwhelms me with so much context that Melville wants us to understand, it makes me go insane sometimes and question my own sanity lmaooooo!

Ahab & Starbuck

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The chapter I am focusing on is chapter 109, “Ahab and Starbuck in the Cabin.” This chapter shows us an interaction between Captain Ahab and Starbuck; like most of their interactions before, we really get to see the differences between the two characters, noting that neither one of them is fond of the other.

One quote that stood out to me this chapter came from Starbuck when leaving Ahab’s cabin: “Thou hast outraged, not insulted me, sir; but for that I ask thee not to beware of Starbuck; thou wouldst but laugh; but let Ahab beware of Ahab; beware of thyself, old man’ ” (Melville 518). I found this warning to be fascinating, and something that could be noted as foreshadowing. After writing my first essay about the dangers of a leader such as Captain Ahab, I enjoy reading the parts of the novel where Starbuck calls him out for his delusions and corrupt leading. I truly believe that Ahab will be the downfall of both himself and the Pequod, there is no doubt that his obsession and anger will cause trouble for the rest of the crew members later on in the novel.

This chapter, although pretty short, gives us good insight into the relationship between Ahab and Starbuck, and we are able to see that not much has changed since the beginning. It will be interesting to see how their relationship will continue to play out the more the novel progresses and the more wild and crazy Captain Ahab becomes.

incorruption found within the heart of decay

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There were a number of parts from this most recent reading that struck me – I wondered if, perhaps, Pippin from Lord of the Rings was partially named for Pippin in Moby Dick. Both are known to be young, somewhat fearful, and thrust into a dangerous voyage that they may not have necessarily signed on for. They are also particularly clumsy, eliciting anger and frustration from their superiors.

Yet the part that interested me from an academic standpoint was Chapter 92, Ambergris. “Now that the incorruption of this most fragrant ambergris should be found in the heart of such decay; is this nothing?” (448) This passage, while referencing the thick, waxy stuff found within decaying whales, can apply too to the story of Moby Dick and the characters within it. The procurement of the Ambergris was duplicitous, the urgency from Ahab to continue forward on their journey despite the valuable find was further proof of his abandonment of their financial goals for this trip. Despite the harrowing nature of the journey, despite the questionable nature of Ahab and the cruelty expressed by crewmen such as Stubb, Ishmael and Queequeg are the ambergris of the ship – the incorruptible pieces found within the heart of decay.

As another aside, I have been listening to this https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=aNpA6yRene0&si=q_8oCmRmJK9RLytG while reading the novel and have found it to properly put me into the mindset of being on the Pequod. I wanted to share it for the others that may need to listen to something while they read.

ch. 96 of Moby Dick

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At the end of Chapter 96 of Moby-Dick, Ishmael has one of his most memorable lines: “There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness… And there is a Catskill eagle in some souls…” It’s classic Ishmael, one minute he’s staring into the flames of the try-works, basically hypnotized, and the next he’s launching into a deep reflection about human nature and the strange value of suffering.

What he’s really getting at is that not all pain is the same. Some kinds of sadness actually teach you something, and some kinds push you right up to the edge of insanity. But Ishmael suggests that those extreme states aren’t always bad. For certain people, people whose minds naturally operate on a different level, those dark places can still be part of an elevated landscape. That’s where the image of the Catskill eagle comes in: a creature that can dive into the darkest ravines and then soar back into the sun.

The key point is that even when the eagle is in the gorge, it’s still in the mountains. Its “lowest swoop” is still higher than what most other birds ever reach. Ishmael is basically saying that for some exceptional souls, their lows are still more meaningful, and more intense, than the highs of ordinary life.

And of course, this is Ishmael’s indirect way of talking about Ahab. Ahab may be completely consumed by his obsession. He may be “forever in the gorge,” stuck in madness and vengeance. But Ishmael hints that even that madness comes from a kind of greatness. Ahab’s downfall, in its own twisted way, feels more significant than the regular, peaceful, uneventful lives of the average person.

There’s also a subtle warning here. Ishmael is telling himself, and the audience, not to get lost in fantasy or despair. Staring too long into the fire, or into your own thoughts, can pull you somewhere dangerous. But at the same time, he’s acknowledging that confronting darkness can sharpen you, if you’re built for it.

It’s a reminder that insight often comes from uncomfortable places, and that some souls simply fly higher, even when they’re at their lowest.

The Price of Illumination – Chapter 97

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The line from this week’s reading that really caught my eye was from Chapter 97: “But the whaleman, as he seeks the food of light, so he lives in light” (Melville 466), which I believe captures Melville’s ability to fuse the physical and the metaphysical once again, turning a practical observation about whaling into a profound commentary on human existence. On a literal level, the statement refers to the whaleman’s constant pursuit of oil, the “food of light,” since whale oil was used to fuel lamps across the world. So, the whaleman’s work is a pursuit of and for illumination. He literally hunts the source of light that allows civilization to see, work, and exist after dark. But Melville complicates this material truth by framing it in spiritual and moral terms. The phrase “lives in light” suggests that the whaleman not only produces light but is also surrounded by it at all times, bathed in its glow both literally and figuratively. Yet this very illumination of theirs is born out of darkness: the death of innocent whales, the blood and toil of the men who harvest their bodies, and the moral and ethical ambiguity of a profession that profits from chaos and destruction.

I think that the irony here is central and clear to see: the whaleman “lives in light,” but only through an act of violence. The same substance that brings clarity and brightness to the rest of the world originates in death. Melville uses this paradox to suggest that enlightenment, both scientific and spiritual, often comes at a cost. Stepping back, in a broader sense, I think that the “whaleman” becomes a metaphor for humankind’s ceaseless desire for knowledge and progress. Just as the whaleman harvests the “food of light,” humans pursue wisdom, truth, and power, but unfortunately, these pursuits are frequently built upon exploitation, conquest, and moral compromise. To “live in light,” then, may also mean to live in the illusion of purity, ignoring the shadow that makes such light bright and possible.

This idea connects to Melville’s recurring interest in the boundaries between illumination and blindness, understanding and ignorance. The whaleman’s world is one where enlightenment is always haunted by darkness because every lamp that burns brightly depends on the extinguishing of life. Through this single sentence, I believe that Melville encapsulates the novel’s philosophical core: that light and darkness are inseparable, that human knowledge is born from destruction, and that to “live in light” is to live within and also understand the moral contradictions that define civilization itself.