I knew a Holly Golightly once. We met in an art class in high school, and went on to be friends in college, before I fell in love with someone else. We would spend time together after class: she taught me that putting my loofah in with the laundry extended its life and kept it cleaner. I accompanied her on a modeling gig, where the artist she posed for belittled me for pronouncing Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres’s name without a proper French accent. She ended […]
Moby Dick is a sperm whale. Let’s all just laugh about that now so we can get on with the review.
Moby Dick by Herman Melville
Hearken! Before me there is a book, at once languid in its eloquence, and deceptive in its poignancy; bold in its exploration of the human experience, and narrowly constrained by its dimension. Experiencing Herman Melville’s florid prose leaves this reviewer destitute of erudition; both beguiled and inadequate before the preponderance of keys laid out in front of him. The dearth of knowledge with which I am equipped beleaguers my attempt to assess this wondrous and weighty tome. Moby Dick is a clarion singing in the […]
Moby-Dick, ten years later
Fun story: I read Moby-Dick for the very first time after I had jaw surgery in the summer of 2004. I was taking an American Literature survey that fall, and I wanted to prepare, especially because I would be pretty much confined to no strenuous physical activity with lots of free time (and sure enough, the most workout I could muster was carrying a stack of books from the library. I read 40-some books that summer alone, and watched countless movies in between my mom […]