Moby-Dick by Herman Melville

"What is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it; what cozening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings, I so keep pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time; recklessly making me ready to do what in my own proper, natural heart, I durst not so much as dare? Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm?"

Above is a passage from one of the greatest of the many always verbose, often brilliant soliloquies delivered by Captain Ahab in Melville's 1851 epic, Moby-Dick, or The Whale. Clearly, Shakespeare is the template for much of what Melville does in the novel (excepting the earlier chapters, which were actually written before Melville had ever even read any Shakespeare!) But, as one classmate said in discussing this, his turn around must have been awfully fast. That is to say, it is truly astounding how quickly Melville went from having never read Shakespeare to not only having read him, but adapting his forms to a novel about whaling. Indeed, there are moments when it seems that Shakespeare is whispering to him from the grave. Before Moby-Dick, Melville wrote a few interesting and successful novels that were mostly plot-driven intrigues. Moby-Dick is without precedent in Melville's oeuvre. As my professor postulates, it seems to me that, had Melville not read Shakespeare in the midst of its composition, it would likely have turned out to be no more than the page-turner that seems to be set up in its beginning chapters. Don't get me wrong here--the opening chapters are good. They well-written, interesting, and often quite funny. However, it is not until well in to the book (the point in which Melville encountered Shakespeare's works by suggestion of his neighbor Nathaniel Hawthorne) that the we begin to find the beginnings of the metaphysical questions and internal conflicts that give most, if not all, of its true sublimity and seemingly unsearchable depth. Clearly, I am a big fan of this book. Reading it is a chore, to be sure, but if you give it time and careful attention, the rewards are enormous. Keep in mind that I began reading it as a nineteenth century American literature cynic (which I remain) with very negative reviews from many people for whose opinions I have great respect (among them my favorite professor and my father). Please believe me when I say that, in reading Moby-Dick, I am convinced that it is among the great novels of the English language, of any language.