Moby Dick

For today I want to explore one of the most curious and intriguing chapters in the novel, “A Squeeze of the Hand,” in which Melville describes the camaraderie of the Pequod’s crew as they extract and harvest spermaceti from a dead whale. The title itself – I presume very cleverly and purposefully chosen by Melville – carries an obvious erotic connotation. The chapter was a target of nineteenth century critics disapproving of the homoerotic overtones in Melville’s writing, just as the scenes in which Ishmael and Queequeg share a bed as if man and wife in the early portions of the novel were targets. Like many of Melville’s chapters in Moby Dick, “A Squeeze of the Hand” is simultaneously brief and complex, short and profound. It can almost stand alone: it does not push the main plot forward; it reveals truths about life; and it is beautifully and vividly written. At the same time, it is a useful chapter that fits into the overall structure of the book.

Firstly, the chapter functions partially to give the reader more information about the process of whaling, much like “The Line” does. It explains how the lumps in the spermaceti need to be squeezed and smoothed out by the hands of the men so that they are turned into a consistent fluid. The act has a fiscal bend to it: the sperm itself is a commercially coveted product, a “favorite cosmetic,” “sweetener,” “softener,” and “delicious mollifier” (372). A little wiki research tells me that the wax-like substance was used in cosmetics, lubricants, leatherworking, and the production of candles. Secondly, also separate from the homoeroticism apparent in its language, this chapter functions on a homosocial level. Melville portrays the comradery of shipmates working together to complete a task – one that, as a refreshing change from hours of arduous labor aboard the Pequod, is fun, messy, exciting, and pleasurable. It is a prime example of the bonding of men in a social working environment.

But the homoeroticism in “A Squeeze of the Hand” is undeniable, and thus the chapter goes beyond mere technical description of whaling and description of homosocial comradery. Melville’s very graphic and evocative language includes careful choices of words and phrases, i.e. “Squeeze! squeeze! squeeze! all the morning long; I squeezed that sperm till I myself almost melted into It”; “I found myself unwittingly squeezing my co-laborers’ hands in it, mistaking their hands for the gentle globules”; “abounding, affectionate, friendly, loving feeling”; “at last I was continually squeezing their hands, and looking up into their eyes sentimentally” (372). (In addition, as I was reading, the description of the unctuousness of the substance reminded me of the imagery produced by contemporary artist Matthew Barney in The Cremaster Cycle, a series of abstract art films in which fantastical characters squirm and crawl in tunnels of white, thick, messy, globbing fluid meant to resemble semen. I can only imagine what Barney would do with this scene if he were to make a film version of Moby Dick; funnily enough, he has made a film about a Norwegian whaling vessel.) Given Melville’s alarmingly and emphatically erotic language, one can understand why this chapter was such an outrage among nineteenth century readers and critics!

Melville’s inclusion of the word “unwittingly” in the phrase “unwittingly squeezing my co-laborers’ hands” is intriguing because it implies that Ishmael becomes so caught up in this moment of pleasure that he cannot control his desire to touch the other men and feel sentimental about being with them. The experience is exciting for Ishmael and made more exciting by the fact that he can share it with his crewmates. Perhaps as he wrote this, the supposedly homosexual Melville identified with his character in terms of having uncontrollable sexual attraction to men. (On this note, after reading Ishmael’s emphatically erotic and loving description of the squeezing of the sperm, I wish I could read the same event from the point of view of the other characters to see if the pleasure is experienced by them as much and as sensually as Ishmael. I feel uncertain that the others were having dreams about “long rows of angels in paradise, each with his hands in a jar of spermaceti” – easily the most absurd, tongue-in-cheek illusion in the entire comical chapter. I believe comedy must have been another function of this chapter in Melville’s mind, just as the scenes of Ishmael and Queequeg are so ridiculous they inspire the reader the laugh out loud.)

I think, however, the most important function of the chapter is not to shock the reader with its homoerotic language but to reveal how lonely, difficult, and dreary the whaling life can be on the seas for months at a time. The men are away from civilization for long periods and have little contact with other people; additionally, they must be going crazy just from having to sleep in such uncomfortable cabins at night! Although we know that Ishmael chooses to go to sea for positive psychological purposes, as he explains in the first chapter that sailing is a superior option for him than suicide (or homicide), the overt pleasures and delights of the whaling lifestyle must be few and far between. Thus, an experience like this smoothing of the whale spermaceti stands out as being fun and different. It is a departure from the usual. It feels good and, at least in Ishmael, inspires happy illusions and visions.

Another intriguing aspect of the chapter is how Melville uses food metaphors to describe the satisfaction of the action: for instance, Ishmael says that the spermaceti are “gentle globules of infiltrated tissues…richly broke to my fingers, and discharged all their opulence, like fully ripe grapes their wine; as I snuffed up that uncontaminated aroma…” (372) and that the whale’s blanket of blubber “is plums of rubies, in pictures of citron. Spite of reason, it is hard to keep yourself from eating it. I confess, that once I stole behind the foremast to try it. It tasted something as I should conceive a royal cutlet from the thigh of Louis le Gros might have tasted, supposing him to have been killed the first day after the venison season” (374). This might have been a technique by Melville to shock the reader: “How can such an act be so enjoyable and even mouth-watering?,” one might ask. The comparison of the whale’s body parts to food, ranging from grapes to venison to wine, is so vivid and delicious-seeming that the reader might fall into Melville’s trap and want to try tasting the blubber or sperm for himself or herself. This, in combination with Ishmael’s statement that he could spend his entire life squeezing the sperm with his male comrades, challenges the conventional, heteronormative reader. Not all happiness is experienced through heteronormative relationships between men and women in typical settings with typical gender dynamics.

To conclude, I believe Melville used this chapter to function as technically explanatory, comical, implicative of homosocial comradery, implicative of homoeroticism, and, perhaps most importantly, revealing of the difficulty of the whaling lifestyle. It certainly calls into question traditional masculinity and expected roles of men in a same-sex environment.

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