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Ch. 94 – A Squeeze of the Hand

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While a lot of the chapters from this reading went right over my head, I could not help but be drawn to the ending of Chapter 94. Ishmael is discussing the works of the blubber-room and the man who works beneath the deck. From this chapter reads the passage, “With this gaff, the gaffman hooks on to a sheet of blubber, and strives to hold it from slipping, as the ship pitches and lurches about. Meanwhile, the spade-man stands on the sheet itself, perpendicularly chopping it into the portable horse-pieces. This spade is as sharp as hone can make it; the spademan’s feet are shoeless; the thing he stands on will sometimes irresistibly slide away from him, like a sledge. If he cuts off one of his own toes, or one of his assistant’s, would you be very much astonished? Toes are scarce among veteran blubber-room men” (458). While it is quite gruesome to think about the loss of someone’s toes to a sharp object, toes are used to stabilize us on our feet. I would like to argue that, while the blubber-room and its men are apart of the Pequod, and the Pequod being referenced as its own nation state, that the act of sawing and cutting at blubberous commerce and even at the risk of one’s self, that the blubber-room and its men represents the self destruction of the people within the nation state. As America is at one of its worst points in history, clawing after the idea of white superiority at the expense of others, they are actively cutting through themselves and destabilizing the very foundation that they believe they have erected for themselves and the nation. With the tossing and turning of the nation, creating such an already unstable foundation, the mere acting of cutting down another object in turn leads them to cutting themselves down.

Gods, Heroes, and Demi-gods (Chapter 82)

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In Chapter 82, Ishmael starts to defend whaling profession in a passionately way and argues on how it deserves a great honor and respect. He starts to compare whalers to noble heroes, gods, demi-gods, and legendary figures like: Perseus, St. George, and Hercules who in their own stories fought monsters and other creatures. Ishmael also mentions that kings and noblemen have been connected to whaling throughout history demonstrating how it’s not a lowly job, but an act of courage and importance to society, hence being the source of the economy: oil, lamps, etc. Melville wants us to recognizes and defends whaling as an honorable glorifying job. In the quote,” The more I dive into this matter of whaling, and push my researches up to the very spring-head of it, so much the more am I impressed with its great honorableness and antiquity; and especially when I find so many great demi-gods and heroes, prophets of all sorts, who one way or other have shed distinction upon it, I am transported with the reflection that I myself belong, though but subordinately, to so emblazoned a fraternity.”(195), Melville uses this tone of admiration, he not only challenges class hierarchies that look down on manual labor, but he also changed the meaning of heroism by placing whalers next to divine heroes! This passage transforms whaling as a symbol of heroism, adventure, discovery and belonging.

Teeth

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While Chapter 74 was based off the sperm whale’s head, the part that stood out to me the most was the ending of this chapter, when Ishmael talks about the teeth of the whale. Ishmael states “There are generally forty-two teeth in all; in old whales, much worn down, but undecayed…”(363) Pointing out that naturally the whales teeth wear down just like humans but yet they are still strong enough to not decay. In humans, decay on a tooth can be fixed with a filling which Ishmael critiques “nor filled after our artificial fashion.”(363) Ishmael uses tooth fillings as a critique of humans dependency for artificial attachment. By saying “our artificial fashion” Ishmael makes the reader aware that he is talking about humans and acknowledging the reoccurring obsession that humans have in terms of our form of fixations.

Finishing off his thought, he brings up the contrast of the use of the whales jaw that is cut into slabs “and piled away like joists for building houses.” Strong material is needed to build houses or else they would collapse. Ishmael points out this contrast, stating that even in the whales most natural and unaltered form it is still much stronger than humans with the help of artificial alterations.

Even though this was book was written so long ago, this is relevant today especially with the alterations humans make currently from surface body level such as injections/ supplements to create the desired body, leading up the use of AI. Ishmael critiques the way humans can be stripped away from their natural beings and indulge into the artificial obsession, all while still being at a disadvantage to the natural world.

An old & glorious occupation, no more

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Chapter 82, “The Honor and Glory of Whaling,” offers us a great insight into the history and mythology of whaling and stories of whales. One section that particularly stood out to me was when Ishmael said, “Nor do heroes, saints, demigods, and prophets alone comprise the whole roll of our order. Our grand master is still to be named; for like royal kings of old times, we find the head-waters of our fraternity in nothing short of the great gods themselves” (Melville 397). It truly shows the significance that whaling has had throughout history, it is stories both ancient Greek and Roman, it’s in the Bible, it’s in many different religions such as Hinduism, the impact and importance of whaling is something that has been lost in time as the book has gotten older. Now we look at whaling and we disagree with it, for a good reason of course, but back then it was heroic and it was something that the legendary men in myth, Hercules and Perseus, did.

I think that Melville wrote this chapter to show why whaling should have been considered a prestige occupation with a sort of righteousness that came with it; “when I find so many great demi-gods and heroes, prophets of all sorts, who one way or other have shed distinction upon it, I am transported with the reflection that I myself belong, though but subordinately, to so emblazoned a fraternity” (Melville 395). It seems like Melville is talking about himself here, and how he feels to be included in a group that is surrounded by legends and myths and religious figures, people’s whose stories have been around for millenniums. Another quote that stood out to me was, “Those were the knightly days of our profession, when we only bore arms to succor the distressed, and not to fill men’s lamp-feeders” (Melville 395). It shows how much whaling has change from the days of Perseus to when Melville was writing Moby-Dick, and now today were the whaling industry in America is dead.

This chapter definitely showed the historical and mythical significance of whaling. It’s incredible to think that something we now view as unethical and immoral was once viewed as heroic and glorious, however the purpose of whaling has changed significantly since those times. Mythical legends, Saints, Heroes, and gods all take up a seat in whaling, as Melville puts it; “Perseus, St. George, Hercules, Jonah, and Vishnoo! there’s a member-roll for you! What club but the whaleman’s can head off like that?” (Melville 398).

Chapter 76: The Inevitable Perils in the Search for Truth: (Moby Dick)

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In the end chapter 76, The Battering Ram, Melville references Friedrich Von Schiller’s poem “The Veiled Image at Sais”:

“But clear Truth is a thing for salamander giants only to encounter; but how small the chances for the provincials then? What befel the weakling youth lifting the dread goddess’s veil at Sais?”

What Melville is saying here, is that humans, in the search of truth are naive and blind to the power of the natural world. When they try to know uncover its secrets, their fate always ends in death. “Lifting the veil of Isis” is an expression to uncover something for you to see it with your own eyes. However, to conquer and own this truth for ourselves is where humans dig their own grave. Melville says that natural forces are so strong that humans would be crushed and it would take some giant salamander to bear them. Salamanders were considered to be borne out of fire, so by Melville, they are the only ones able to withstand the clear and burning truth. With this chapter, Melville basically gives us the ending of the book.

Here is an excerpt from Von Schiller’s poem:

“But what he saw, or what did there befall, his lips disclosed not.

Ever from his heart

Was fled the sweet serenity of life, and the deep anguish dug the early grave…”

The Anatomy of Understanding

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In Chapter 77, “The Great Heidelburgh Tun,” as Ishmael meticulously describes the anatomy of the sperm whale, he pauses for a moment to reflect and observe, “But to comprehend it aright, you must know something of the curious internal structure of the thing operated upon.” (Melville 371) On the surface, this line refers to the practical work of cutting into a whale’s body, but it also captures something larger about Moby-Dick itself. Melville constantly reminds his readers that understanding, whether of the whale, the ship, or just life at sea, requires looking beneath the surface, especially for us “landsmen.” Ishmael’s words turn the act of whaling into an act of reading: the body of the whale becomes a text, and true comprehension demands attention to all of its inner workings.

This idea aligns with the recurring chapters that anatomize the whale and ship in almost scientific detail, such as “The Sphynx,” “The Blanket,” “The Line,” and “The Monkey-rope.” In each, Ishmael insists on showing the interior, from the bones and the blubber to the lines and ropes, because for him, meaning resides in the hidden systems that actually sustain life and labor. Just as a ship can’t be understood by its sails alone, the whale’s mystery cannot be captured by its surface or exterior. Melville’s fascination with “internal structure” becomes a metaphor for how the novel itself operates: each detailed dissection of the whale’s body or the ship’s machinery draws us closer to the unknowable essence of existence and knowledge, even as it reminds us how incomplete that comprehension will always be.

By linking comprehension to dissection, Melville transforms the very physical and almost brutal act of cutting into an intellectual one. To “know something of the curious internal structure” is to recognize the layered complexity of every object and idea that is presented to the reader in the novel. The whale, the Pequod, and even Ishmael’s narrative share the same architecture. They are massive, mysterious, and full of unseen parts that demand exploration and much deeper thought. Through this, Moby-Dick becomes a kind of living anatomy, a work that invites readers to participate in its own operation, continually digging deeper for a truth that resists full capture.

Peril and Perspective

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In Chapter 49, “The Hyena,” Ishmael observes: “There is nothing like the perils of whaling to breed this free and easy sort of genial, desperado philosophy; and with it I now regarded this whole voyage of the Pequod, and the great White Whale its object” (Melville 247). This line is a perfect window into how danger shapes our perspective. Ishmael recognizes that life at sea, with all its risk and unpredictability, cultivates a kind of philosophy that is both relaxed and daring, a mindset able to face the unknown with humor and courage.

The phrase “genial, desperado philosophy” was particularly striking to me when I read it. It suggests a blend of lightheartedness as well as recklessness, implying that those who risk everything in whaling develop a worldliness that is fearless but still very aware of their mortality. Melville emphasizes that danger doesn’t simply terrify us; it actually transforms us. The “perils of whaling” are not just physical threats; they are existential challenges that force the crew to confront the fragility of life and the immensity of the sea, as well as how and why those two things go together. In that confrontation, Ishmael discovers a philosophy that allows him to continue and do well aboard the Pequod: a balance between courage, reflection, and acceptance.

The second part of the sentence, “and with it I now regarded this whole voyage of the Pequod, and the great White Whale its object,” shows how this mindset reshapes Ishmael’s understanding of the Pequod’s mission. The whale, often interpreted as a symbol of obsession or fate, is no longer just a terrifying goal but a lens through which to view the larger adventure at sea. Danger has cultivated perspective: the risks of the sea give him insight, allowing him to see the voyage and the whale philosophically rather than purely emotionally, more so like Ahab. Life’s perils, Melville seemingly suggests in this chapter, are inseparable from the growth they provoke.

This reflection also resonates with the novel’s broader theme of confronting the unknown. The “genial, desperado philosophy” is not just useful for whaling; it is a metaphor for human life, where risks, failures, and uncertainties are what cultivate resilience and insight. Melville presents whaling as a microcosm of existence, where courage and humor are necessary tools for navigating the unpredictable currents of the world. In Ishmael’s words, the philosophy of the Pequod’s crew becomes a guide for enduring the chaos of life itself.

This passage shows how Melville blends adventure with reflection. The dangers of whaling don’t simply create fear in his characters; instead, they create wisdom. Through Ishmael, readers are invited to consider how peril shapes perception, transforms experience, and cultivates the kind of free and daring philosophy necessary to face the vast, unknowable forces of the sea and of life itself.

Essay 1: Our Ever-Rocking Existence: Humanity Between Sea and God

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At the end of Chapter 35, “The Mast-Head,” Ishmael closes his reflection on watchkeeping with a particularly haunting sentence: “There is no life in thee, now, except that rocking life imparted by a gently rolling ship: by her, borrowed from the sea; by the sea, from the inscrutable tides of God” (Melville 173). This single line collapses the sailor’s physical experience into more of a spiritual chain of dependence. Melville ties the ship, sea, and God together in a rhythm that both sustains and erases any individuality. Through its careful structure and imagery, the sentence expresses a sentiment that runs through Moby-Dick: life itself is not autonomous but “borrowed,” seemingly passed through vast systems of motion and meaning that render human existence both sacred and unstable.

            This moment imparts Melville’s broader interest in the interdependence of creation to his reader. Ishmael’s phrasing builds a very visible ladder of being, starting at the top with God, then sea, ship, and finally man, each one feeding life to the next. Yet the syntax Melville uses suggests that none of these entities truly possesses life in isolation. Instead, they each simply carry the current onward. The rhythm of the line, marked by semicolons, replicates the rocking motion it describes. The pauses create a gentle swaying in the reader’s breath, by her; by the sea; by the inscrutable tides of God, as if the sentence itself moves into and with the ocean. Melville transforms punctuation into motion and the syntax into tide. The line becomes performative, enacting through its form exactly what it claims in meaning: life as continual transfer, an oscillation that never stills long enough to belong to any one being, no matter how big or powerful.

            The word “imparted” in the passage is particularly revealing. It does not suggest a permanent gift or state, but more along the lines of a temporary transmission. Something given with the possibility, or inevitability, of being taken back. “Life imparted” is not the same as “life possessed” or “life given.” Melville’s diction, then, implies both grace and dependence; existence is granted in passing. Even the ship, that symbol of human mastery and control, draws its motion “by her, borrowed from the sea.” To “borrow” life is to live on loan or rent, to move only through forces larger than oneself. The ship’s agency, and by extension, you could argue Ishmael’s own, is quite contingent and not absolute. This layered borrowing, from ship to sea to God, diminishes the idea of human self-sufficiency that Ahab so violently defends in the novel. Ishmael’s observation undermines that illusion of control by reminding us that every movement, even our own heartbeat, depends on something inscrutable and beyond human command.

            Melville’s choice to describe the sea’s tides as “inscrutable” situates this chain of dependence within both spiritual and existential uncertainty. The word implies not only mystery but also this almost impenetrability that denies any outside interpretation. If the tides of God are truly “inscrutable,” then even Ishmael’s recognition of his own dependence offers no comfort of understanding. Instead, it opens the readers to the unsettling realization that the origin of life’s motion is unknowable. The “tides of God” do not offer stability or salvation to the ship; they offer only continual movement, indifferent to the human need for meaning. Melville thus inverts the traditional idea of divine order. God is not the fixed point around or toward which the world turns, but the unfathomable depth from which motion flows. Vast, silent, and beyond measure.

            Still, within this recognition of dependence lies a subtle peace. Ishmael’s description of the “gently rolling ship” tempers the potential terror of the message of the passage. The adverb “gently” softens the image of divine force into something almost maternal. The rocking motion recalls a cradle as much as a wave, suggesting that Ishmael, suspended there between sea and sky, finds an almost kind of spiritual intimacy in his isolation. Here, the sea becomes not merely a site of danger or judgment but a living intermediary between man and God. Through it, Ishmael participates in a rhythm that unites the material and the metaphysical. Even if that rhythm is “borrowed,” it is still shared by all of them in a form of belonging that does not require control.

            This passage also gains resonance when considered within the broader context of Ishmael’s experience at the masthead. The rocking motion of the ship is both soothing and destabilizing to him, offering a sense of connection to the sea and, through it, to something larger than himself, yet it also carries the potential for danger. Melville’s imagery of this borrowed motion encapsulates the tension between transcendence and vulnerability. To lose oneself too fully in the sea’s rhythm, to mistake that same spiritual unity for safety, is to risk death. That earlier moment illuminates the closing line’s ambivalence: the same “rocking life” that sustains Ishmael can also erase him by blurring the lines between body and ocean. The sea offers a connection to divine mystery, but it also threatens to absorb the self entirely. These both simultaneously remind Ishmael of his fragility, which highlights the novel’s central struggle between surrender and control as well as faith and human ambition.

            Even the sentence’s structure enacts this fragile equilibrium. The repetition of “by” creates a chain of agency that simultaneously affirms and undermines itself. Each “by” displaces life one step further from the speaker: by the ship, by the sea, by God. The preposition functions like a tide itself, pushing the source of vitality outward into the distance and far away from the ship and the reader. Ishmael’s view here emphasizes that humans are not the most important beings but are part of a larger, interconnected world. Humanity does not stand at the center of creation but floats within its circulations. The “rocking life” that passes through Ishmael is only one little eddy in an immense current. His humility before that current distinguishes him from Ahab, whose defiance of dependence leads to ruin. Where Ahab insists on mastery over the sea’s inscrutable power, Ishmael learns to survive through surrender.

            Melville’s use of rhythm, imagery, and syntax in this single line crystallizes one of the novel’s deepest spiritual insights: that to live is to be in motion, and to be in motion is to depend. The hierarchy Ishmael outlines of God, sea, ship, man, might appear stable, but the verbs undo that structure. Each “borrowed from” erases any form of ownership, leaving only movement behind. The theology implied here is fluid and dynamic: God’s presence manifests not as authority but as motion itself. In this sense, Melville’s “inscrutable tides of God” show us the novel’s larger cosmology, where meaning is not contained in static and stationary symbols but in the ceaseless interplay of opposites: creation and destruction, calm and storm, surface and depth.

            The comfort Ishmael finds in this realization contrasts sharply with the terror that grips Ahab. For Ahab, dependence seems to be quite intolerable; to borrow (and not own) life is to admit weakness. His pursuit of the White Whale is an attempt to shatter that chain, to confront the inscrutable source directly and demand explanation. Ishmael, by contrast, accepts that explanation is impossible. His survival depends on yielding to what cannot be known by him or by anyone.

            In this light, the passage’s final phrase, “the inscrutable tides of God,” becomes not just a theological statement but a structural principle for the entire novel. Moby-Dick itself moves according to inscrutable tides, shifting from sermon to stage play, from epic to encyclopedia, from tragedy to farce. Like the sea it describes, the book resists containment. Melville’s prose constantly borrows motion from the forces it evokes, such as history, philosophy, and religion, without ever fixing meaning in one place or to one thing. To read Moby-Dick is to be rocked into that same rhythm, to feel language itself imparting a borrowed life to the imagination.

            Ultimately, Ishmael’s reflection at the masthead articulates Melville’s most profound vision of existence. Life, like the ship on the sea, is a constantly ongoing act of balance between faith and doubt, surrender and fear, motion and stillness. The comfort that Ishmael finds does not come from certainty but more from his participation: to be alive is to be a part of a motion that exceeds understanding. When he says, “There is no life in thee, now, except that rocking life imparted by a gently rolling ship,” Ishmael acknowledges the paradox that defines all human experience in Melville’s world: that we are most ourselves when we recognize that our life is not our own. By seeing dependence not as diminishment but actually as connection, Melville offers an alternative to Ahab’s destructive pride, a model of endurance grounded in humility. In the end, the “rocking life” that Ishmael describes becomes a metaphor for survival itself: not the triumph of mastery, but the grace of motion sustained by forces we can neither name nor command.

Essay 1

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In Moby Dick by Herman Melville, there is a contrast between the civilized human beings such as Ishmael and the uncivilized human beings such as Queequeg. Through the book, it is noted that  Moby Dick interacts with the two different groups in settings that can demonstrate the kind of people they are regardless of their culture.   Specifically in chapter 13 of Moby Dick, Melville utilizes Queequeg as a representation of the morality of the uncivilized vs the civilized group on the boat who demonstrate the judgement and presumptions of society. 

Throughout chapter 13, Queequeg is described with terms such as a cannibal, devil, and savage—all terms with a negative connotiation. To describe someone this way is to presume that said person lacks the moral compass and will act in poor judgement and potentially cause harm to another human being. Interestingly enough, Queequeg finds himself being the pit of a joke by a young man who was mimicking him behind his back, not very kind to say the least. In result, the young man is grabbed and tossed up by the devil himself, the captain continues by yelling at Queequeg,  “Look you, I’ll kill-e you, you cannibal, if you try any more of your tricks aboard here; so mind eye.”(67) Melville uses irony in the captains’ statement by his threat to kill Queequeg, a cannibal, who kills and eats humans. While the captain might not be eating a human he is threatening to kill one so if Queequeg is the uncivilized character here, what does that say about the civilized captain? The captain is someone who is supposed to be leading their crew and making decisions that would not jeopardize the boat or themselves in order for everyone to return home safely. The appointed person should not be acting erratically by threatening the uncivilized cannibal  because it could have jeopardized the safety of not only him but the rest of the crew and the boat. 

Right after this altercation, the boom on the boat began to move side to side sweeping a part of the deck including the young man who was making fun of Queequeg. The only person who was able to return the boat back to normal and save the young man was the savage himself. After all his doing, “All hands voted Queequeg a noble trump; the captain begged his pardon.”(68) Disregarding the threat and the name calling he just faced a few minutes before this, Queequeg was now declared a hero by the same people. Melville uses this quick turn around to prove the judgment in character that the people on the boat had against Queequeg. He was most likely the least suspected person to jump in to save the young man, not just because of the altercation he had with him but because he was someone who they viewed as uncivilized. He is described as a wild man—lacking in politeness and good behavior, but yet he was the only one to jump in to save the young man. The measurement of a good person does not only come from the words of a person but also the actions which we can see here in this part of the story. 

Queequeg had no personal gain to save the young man and he definitely did not do it to heighten his ego, he did it as a person who wanted someone out of harm’s way considering, “He did not seem to think that he at all deserved a medal from the Humane and Magnanimous Societies. He only asked for water—fresh water—something to wipe the brine off; he put on dry clothes”(68) What he had done was worth recognition but for Queequeg the favor he had done was nothing more than that. Melville’s repetition of water, particularly fresh water, diverts the presumption of his savage-like description considering savages are  dirty and wild. Queequeg just wanted to be clean and dry, for this state of cleanliness is a reward in itself. 

In a state of reflection after what just occurred, Queequeg says “It’s a mutual, joint stock world, in all meridians. We cannibals must help these Christians.”(68) Using “joint stock world” to describe the kind of world they live in, a joint of different cultures that are interconnected. Pointing out the separation of cannibals and Christian’s, the uncivilized and civilized group, Queequeg believes they are there to help one another, making his morals align with the god obeying men. In reality the mayor separating between the two groups is the kind of culture they are in and what they follow but that does not mean that group that is frowned upon does not have good people as well. 

Considering Moby Dick is narrated by Ishamel who is a Christian, it is important for the readers to gain insight into the type of person Queequeg is beside from his usual description of savage and cannibal because it shows the kind of personalities that will be shared on the boat. It also helps deconstruct the belief that the uncivilized are perhaps bad people who lack the moral compass to help others as the civilized people in the story. Queequeg is used as an example of this as he demonstrates his belief in doing a righteous act for someone regardless of what he could gain, just for the pure fact that he wants to help someone because he is able to. This speaks volume of the kind of person he is and should not be looked over just because he is labeled as a savage. 

Chapter 44: The Chart

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In chapter 44, Ishmael explains on how obsessed Captain Ahab has become on planning his hunt for Moby Dick. Melville writes,” God help thee, old man, thy thoughts have created a creature in thee; and whose intense thinking thus makes him a Prometheus; a vulture feeds upon that heart for ever; that vulture the very creature he creates”,(220), in this passage Melville explores how obsession can transform the human mind into its own tormentor and how easy it is to loose yourself to madness when the thoughts come to deeply to torment the human mind. He transforms Ahab has a victim and the creator of his own madness. The phrase,” God help thee” is recognizing that Ahab is suffering and no one can save him, but Him. When he says the “creature” it represents the madness being born inside of him from his obsession with Moby Dick, while comparing him to Prometheus due to both being defiant and both being punished for not fulfilling their duties. Melville uses imagery to to warn us, the audience, about the conception of madness of the human mind, becoming to much of a delusion of something we can’t let go.

I recently read Terry Eagleton’s, “Literary Theory: An Introduction,” in one of his chapter, psychoanalysis, Eagleton discusses that psychoanalysis views that humans are driven by unconscious desires and compulsions that they don’t comprehend, which comes as a clear example: Ahab’s obsession with Moby Dick.