moby-dick is massively, massively flawed, i freely admit. my friend, who has read all of melville, absolutely hates it. he says melville is better in shorter works (this is true, billy budd and bartleby the scrivener are both excellent - if you have read and disliked moby-dick, give those two a go, they're only about sixty pages each and they might turn you around to his talents).
i guess there's a lot of stuff i could do without - all of the completely infuriating "philosophical" discussions, and some of the scientific stuff (like ishmael classifying whales as fish, in the face of Actual Science, because hey, he feels like they're fish and what would those dumb old biologists know). but the things about whaling are usually pretty fascinating, at least.
there are two scenes that move it from being a pretty funny, clever, but ultimately unspectacular romantic novel, to being something approaching the old masters: firstly, the scene before the chase, when the st elmo's fire appears on the masthead and ahab's spear, and ahab stands in this half-night twilight electrical storm giving his polemic against god - that is like something out of shakespeare. secondly, ahab's final speech:
"Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee."
i mean
that rules
can't read that without getting a shiver down my spine
and then there a million great little things about the book, like stubb and flask and starbuck, and the scene with queequeg and ishmael in bed together.
what i like about it most is how its flaws, um, this is going to sound stupid. its flaws improve it. every boring ten page tangent on rib-bone carving is part of a great and singular theme, which the whole novel rolls towards with every word.
moby-dick, the novel, is a deep and dangerous ocean, and lurking somewhere at the heart of it is moby-dick, the whale: this terrifying, malevolent presence that pervades the whole book. in reading it, you become drawn into this gigantic and varied world (those first hundred pages are maybe the best thing melville has written). it engages you, entertains you, swallows you up, and all the while it promises one thing: the white whale. you feel it coming, soon and terrible, you feel the novel building to it as you read, until you expect it, until every page you think this is the page you're going to see moby-dick.
and then, of course, it spends five hundred pages giving you nothing. teasing you with a mention, now and again, with the spout on the horizon in the middle of the night, with the ships who first say they haven't seen him, and then that they've had word of him, and finally that he's close, that he nearly wrecked them. dragging you through those god-awful digressions about whale bone structure and paring techniques and whether a sperm whale would prefer plato or spinoza, and so on, until you're nearly tearing your hair out with this burning need to find and kill the white whale.
to read it is to become ahab, to follow his mad fool quest to the end of the book, to grow more and more frustrated, more obsessed, just as he does, as you get closer and closer to moby-dick. and then it leaves you like it leaves him: wrecked, ruined, lost and purposeless and unsatisfied. we see the whale, but it is nothing like we are expecting, it is awful beyond what we could have imagined. we get to the end after days and days of preparation, of anticipation, and discover that what we thought we wanted, we were not ready for at all. moby-dick is the world's cruellest thriller.
haha glen i think coriolanus is probably a personal taste thing. for me, it's the best-constructed of all shakespeare's plays except maybe the tempest. but yeah, it's certainly the least relatable of the tragedies; i don't know if i'd expect anyone to like coriolanus himself.
what i do love about it is that it is able to tie its five narrative threads together so tightly, and in one character, rather than with subplots like king lear. it's intense, like othello, but it has a lot more going on in terms of plot. othello is emotionally intense, coriolanus is narratively intense, i guess. some of shakespeare's later plays are absolute messes: hamlet, cymbeline, pericles, etc. coriolanus shows the master at the absolute top of his form, and if coriolanus the character isn't as interesting as the prince of denmark, then i give shakespeare the benefit of the doubt; he was focusing on other things.
the imagery, while not the most beautiful, is certainly the most deft and controlled of all the plays i've read. it was t.s. eliot's favourite shakespeare, and he wrote a pretty rad poem on it, iirc
and hey evan i remember recommending pale fire to you, along with a whole lot of other trash - awesome that you have the good taste to take the best from my 2007 retardedness