Moby Dick

Trying to catch sight of Ishmael’s narration is like to trying to catch sight of Moby-Dick:  it’s elusive, volatile and unpredictable, emerging and submerging beneath the surface.

From the beginning one can imagine Ishmael disappearing into the narrative as he weaves in and out of the nautical streets of Nantucket.  Yet, now, after his long absence, like the poor wife of Starbuck, we must ask, where has he gone?

Ishmael clearly has some explaining to do.  Appropriately, in the chapter titled Moby Dick, he offers us an explanation for his behavior:

How it was that they so aboundingly responded to the old man’s ire–by what evil magic their souls were possessed, that at times his hate seemed almost theirs; the White Whale as much their insufferable foe as his; how all this came to be–what the White Whale was to them, or how to their unconscious understandings, also, in some dim, unsuspected way, he might have seemed the gliding great demon of the seas of life,–all this to explain would be to dive deeper than Ishmael can go. The subterranean miner that works in us all, how can one tell whither leads his shaft by the ever shifting, muffle sound of his pick? (180, Signet)

One gets the feeling that Ishmael doesn’t know where his narration is going, akin to an episode of Lost. His admission here complicates the view of him as an omniscient narrator.  He has limits.  There are some thoughts and occurrences that he cannot fully understand or explain. Like the miner he speaks of, he gets lost in the tunnel and begins feeling his way around.

In Ch. 45 he even admits that he’s not much of a narrator, “So far what there may be of a narrative in this book…” (195). Nevertheless, he feels compelled to take on the task; in the chapter The Whiteness of the Whale, he lets the reader for a moment into his subconscious: “…how can I hope to explain myself here; and yet, in some dim, random way, explain myself I must, else all these chapters might be naught” (181). This is both a confession of weakness and strength by the narrator.

Ishmael is of course neither omnipresent nor omniscient.  The question is whether his narration is; I don’t think there’s any reason to believe that Ishmael ever quits being narrator, so I assume that he is narrating even during the omniscient parts.  His narration is certainly not omnipresent, as we all know too well.

In Chapter 46, humorously titled Surmises, which are thoughts or ideas based on scanty evidence (Merriam-Webster), Ishmael surmises on the thoughts swimming through Ahab’s head: his need for tools (Starbuck being one of them), the reason why he enjoyed going after other whales (it reminded him of Moby Dick), and how anxious he must have been to protect himself (his men would want to be paid after emerging from their euphoric state).

Just a few chapters earlier, in Ch. 44 The Chart, Ishmael appears to shift into an omniscient form of narration, as James mentions in his post.  I think Surmising stands in stark contrast with this chapter, almost like a foil, illustrating Ishmael’s limits as a narrator.

Here, he is not surmising on Ahab’s thought, but describing the scene. This chapter does not attempt to explain Ahab’s psychological motives, which he can only guess at, but his mechanical scheming to catch Moby-Dick, which does have a certain logic to it, as evidenced by the footnote (191).  The ending of the chapter and its emotional depth are based on explosive observations: Ahab rushing out of his cabin and shouting exclamations into the night.

Perhaps, Ishmael, too, cannot explain what is behind the unreasoning mask.

“surmises.” Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary. 2010.

Merriam-Webster Online. 11 February 2010

<http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/surmises>

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