Moby Dick, Herman Melville
The level of description that is often criticized in Melville’s work is actually what we call “experience” in the digital age. (Just lost the IT guys).
Smoke this shit: The first Killer Whale in captivity lasted for two days in 1961 before it killed itself. Melville was writing in 1851. No one had seen a whale, except in paintings, and very few people knew what life was like on board a whaling ship. Marine Land didn’t exist. There was no Nature Channel. No one could google the skeleton of an orca. He had to create the experience of hunting, killing and harvesting whales in detail so that people could transport themselves into that life. This was fascinating stuff.
The chapters of Moby Dick are no different than episodes of Dexter or Hung. With no electricity, people read themselves to sleep by candle light, looking forward to the next chapter. Back then, books were really expensive. Readers wanted them to last. Tolstoy sure figured that out. (As did our generation’s Patrick O’Brian.)
Taking the time to read this masterpiece will force you to put your devices down and lose yourself in an experience that can last for weeks. I took me the summer 09 to complete it. Think about what you’re getting from the experience. Imagine yourself in a world without the web. Imagine life on-board the Pequod. You won’t be disappointed and you’ll be one of the few people who can say, “Yes. I read the whole thing.” Moby Dick hasn’t lost it’s relevance as a story of friendship, hardship and obsession. It’s the “buddy flick” of it’s time. Give it a go. It beats vampire porn.
Bottom line: Melville nailed descriptive copy.
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