It’s time for the annual Moby-Dick Marathon. The marathon takes place each year on the anniversary of the date that Herman Melville shipped out of New Bedford harbor on board the whaleship Achushnet. Over some twenty-five hours, volunteers read Moby-Dick aloud in its entirety. We live right across the street from where the Marathon takes place, and Carol has spent quite a bit of time at the Marathon already, but the way my schedule worked out I had to write my sermon today. I finally went over at about ten o’clock.
It was the usual late-night Moby-Dick Marathon scene: everyone there was quiet, maybe half the people were following along in their own copy of the book, and a few people were dozing. Not exactly a hopping Saturday night scene, but exactly the kind of scene many of us book sluts wouldn’t mind seeing every Saturday night. Unfortunately, I have to get up early tomorrow morning to go to work, so I left after about half an hour.
I went to the Marathon a couple of years ago – one of my larger regrets. I have tried to read Moby Dick about four or five times and I have never finished it. Melville’s syntax is murky at best. The only reason to have a copy is if you have a problem with insomnia.
Hey! Moby Dick is a great book — syntax, shmyntax. It’s poetry!