…and that is the key to it all.
Tag Archives: Moby-Dick
Those who partake in the fiery hunt should take note:
Philip Hoare is a formidible opponent, and when it comes to Moby-Dick, chances are he’s already been there.
Not only has Philip written a bestselling non-fiction book – an account of his obsession with whales, historical whaling and all things Herman Melville – but he has also been commissioned by the BBC to make a documentary about his monomania and the writing of his opus.
Called The Hunt for Moby-Dick, the doco follows Philip as he journeys around Nantucket, New Bedford, and other nautical dens of salty sea dogs, and even swims with a live sperm-whale off the coast of the Azores.
All I can say is, me next, me next! I’ll catch the first flight to the Azores!
And check out Philip yarning on in this BBC podcast. It’s about Moby-Dick and the way in which society’s attitudes to whales have changed since the book was published in 1851.
As the old whaler says, It wasn’t so much the romance – it was the cash!
Whales roaming the high seas, hunting humans.
Absolute genius. And it was directed by our very own, the late Heath Ledger.
Apparently he was incredibly passionate about animal rights, and an advocate for Sea Shepherd, who have worked tirelessly to stop the Japanese whaling in Australia’s Antarctic waters.
All the video needs now is for a giant white human (doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, I know) to come and shear off the Captain’s leg (or flukes); for him to get a replacement peg-leg made out of human teeth; for them to spend the next few years chasing said white human around the globe; and for the whole cacophony to end in a vortex of swirling, frothy doom and a slowly wheeling albatross.
It could be called, Dick Moby, or, the Human.
I came across this today via Twitter (which goes to show that Twitter can be a force for good and not only in Iran).
Vodpod videos no longer available.
This has to be, quite possibly, the coolest thing I have ever seen.
I want to join these people. I want to live at sea as part of an organic, self-sufficient sea colony.
My only suggestion to improve it would be that they could tame whales and ride back and forward between the various sections of their oceanic organism, like Dune, but in the sea. That might go against their sustainable, eco-friendly ethos, but I reckon it would be worth it.
Ahab would approve.
Check it out more fully @ Open_Sailing
The criminal mastermind behind A Confrontation with Falling has been busy posting on the Readings St Kilda Blog.
He’s come up with a pearler of an idea: a book of last lines. And he’s put together some last-gasps from the best of the best, the heavyweight titans of world literature.
Definitely Ayn Rand’s closing dross is the worst I’ve ever read in all of human creation.
Atlas Shrugged: He raised his hand and over the desolate earth he traced in space the sign of the dollar.
Now compare that absolute rubbish with something as profoundly Zeno-parodoxical as this mind-boggler by Dr. Seuss.
Green Eggs & Ham:I would not like them here or there./ I would not like them anywhere./ I do not like green eggs and ham./ I do not like them Sam I Am.
But where, Mr Miles, is the FINAL line? The last word in all of literature? The granddaddy of all last lines? From where can we source it.
Well, you can probably all guess where my vote goes.
Moby-Dick: Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago.
Here’s my throwaway idea: how abouta book that sequences the first line, middle line, and last line of all the great works of literature.
That way all those people who publish ridiculous titles like How to Talk About Books You Haven’t Read could catch up. A whole book reduced to Twitter-size! That’s the way of the future – which reminds me, this fellow, was posting the whole of Moby-Dick, blow by blow, on Twitter. Ah, but he stopped, what a crying shame.
An amazing about turn by Captain Ahab –
He has, according to world media sources, decided to give up the White Whale and forgive the shearing-off of his leg.
Listen to his change of heart here.
If you read the Whale, if you breathe the salt-stained air, if you live by the pulpy billowing mass of the barnacled retainer wall, if you are one of that multitude of water-gazers…
Let old Orson tell you a short tale of the grand olde, good olde, grande olde whale
Come Starbuck, let me look into another man’s eye…