So I’m reading Moby Dick (Part 1)

So I decided that I would read Moby Dick, Herman Melville’s great white whale of a novel. It’s been intimidating me my entire life, but no more.

I bought a copy at Half Price Books. It’s huge, which doesn’t really help with the intimidation factor. They had a paperback version that was smaller but the print was incredibly small, so I went with the impressive-on-the-bookshelf massive hardback edition.  Strangely, the typesetting in this Castle Books 2004 edition looks like the publisher scanned it from an older copy instead of resetting it for this edition. It adds to the authentic feel, I guess.

I’ll be honest with you: I was really nervous about starting Moby Dick. For one think, I’ve never really read Melville. I was expecting it to be really difficult. I was expecting not to like it. I was expecting to have to slog through it for weeks on end.

Boy, was I wrong.

First of all, it’s really pretty funny. The first meeting of Ishmael and Queequeg is hilarious. I’ve only seen snippets of the movie versions. If anyone can comment on whether the film adaptations are funny or not, please do. I’d love to know.

Secondly, it’s relatively easy to read. Not sure what I was expecting — Hawthorne? Faulkner? Pynchon? — but Melville moves the action along and holds your interest.

I’m not finished with it yet. But I’ve started it, and I’m enjoying it so far, and that’s a lovely surprise.