Chapter 37 Sunset

Abridged Text, followed by Abridger Notes, followed by multimedia, followed by Original Text with deletions.

 

Chapter 37 Sunset

The cabin; by the stern windows; Ahab sitting alone, and gazing out.

 

Oh! time was, when as the sunrise nobly spurred me, so the sunset soothed. No more. This lovely light, it lights not me; all loveliness is anguish to me, since I can ne’er enjoy. Gifted with the high perception, I lack the low, enjoying power; damned, most subtly and most malignantly! damned in the midst of Paradise!

 

They think me mad—Starbuck does; but I’m demoniac, I am madness maddened! The prophecy was that I should be dismembered; and—Aye! I lost this leg. I now prophesy that I will dismember my dismemberer. The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run. Over unsounded gorges, through the rifled hearts of mountains, under torrents’ beds, unerringly I rush! Naught’s an obstacle, naught’s an angle to the iron way!

 

Link to Chapter 38 Dusk.

 

Abridger Notes

 

Doug: I have been thinking about how the supposed narrator, Ishmael, comes. and goes as the primary voice, and especially after leaving port there are conversations and soliloquies that Ishmael could not have heard, and thus not related, and in fact there is no attempt to pretend otherwise. Rather, in these latter cases there seems to be an omniscient observer (ultimately Melville of course), perhaps speaking through Ishmael, another character, or through no character at all. Its almost theatrical. What is this mixed form of storytelling called?

ChatGPT 4o: What you're describing is a hybrid narrative mode, blending first-person narration with omniscient storytelling. This mixed form of storytelling in Moby-Dick has been referred to by various terms, but it most closely resembles "free-ranging narration" or "shifting focalization." Here are some key terms that apply:

1. Unreliable or Unstable First-Person Narration

  • Ishmael is the supposed narrator, but he frequently disappears as the explicit voice.
  • At times, he seems to have impossible knowledge, such as Ahab’s private moments or conversations where he is absent.
  • This suggests that Ishmael is not just an ordinary participant but a constructed voice that merges with a larger, omniscient force—essentially Melville’s own narrative presence.

 

2. Omniscient Intrusions

  • As you pointed out, the novel shifts into omniscient narration, giving us access to Ahab’s private thoughts or to scenes Ishmael could not have witnessed.
  • This makes Moby-Dick partly first-person, partly third-person omniscient, creating an elastic, theatrical narrative voice that can zoom in and out of perspectives freely.

 

3. Theatrical Narrative Mode

  • Some passages read like a play, with soliloquies, dialogues, and dramatic stage directions (e.g., Chapter 40: Midnight, Forecastle).
  • This dramatic structure breaks from conventional novelistic form, making the narrative feel like a blend of novel, essay, and stage drama.

 

4. "Faux-Documentary" or "Pseudo-Epic" Mode

  • The novel mixes different genres, including encyclopedic descriptions, sermons, philosophical essays, and scientific treatises.
  • This makes the book feel like a historical or mythological chronicle rather than a traditional novel.
  • Ishmael sometimes recedes into the background, allowing the text to become a grand, omniscient epic.

 

5. "Heteroglossia" (Multiple Voices within a Text)

  • A term from Mikhail Bakhtin, heteroglossia refers to the presence of multiple narrative voices within a single text.
  • Moby-Dick is full of competing voices, including:
    • Ishmael’s philosophical musings
    • Ahab’s tragic soliloquies
    • The dramatic, near-Shakespearean interludes
    • The dry, scientific voice of the "cetology" chapters
  • The book oscillates between these voices, refusing a single, stable point of view.

 

6. "Polyphonic Novel"

  • A concept from Bakhtin again, the polyphonic novel is one in which multiple perspectives coexist without being subordinated to a single authoritative voice.
  • In Moby-Dick, Ahab’s tragic vision, Ishmael’s philosophical musings, Starbuck’s caution, and the crew’s humor all exist independently, without being resolved into a single dominant narrative.

 

7. "Romantic Fragmentation"

  • The Romantic literary movement (which influenced Melville) embraced fragmentation, mixed forms, and narrative discontinuity.
  • Moby-Dick is not a neatly structured realist novel but rather a wildly experimental Romantic text, embracing shifts in perspective and voice.

 

What Do We Call This Mixed Form?

There is no single name for this technique, but it can be described as:

  • "First-person omniscient" (a paradoxical but fitting term)
  • "Polyphonic narration" (multiple, independent voices)
  • "Theatrical narration" (dramatized storytelling with soliloquies)
  • "Heteroglossic storytelling" (multiple genres and perspectives coexisting)
  • "Epic-style omniscience" (a voice that moves beyond the limits of Ishmael)
  • "Elastic narration" (fluid shifts between perspectives and styles)

 

Final Thoughts

Melville rejects strict formal constraints, using a flexible, shifting narration that moves between personal experience, omniscient storytelling, and theatrical drama. It’s as if Ishmael is a channel, sometimes speaking for himself, sometimes merging into the voice of fate, history, or Melville himself. The result is a narrative that feels alive, unstable, and deeply theatrical—more like an epic or a myth than a conventional novel.

Would you say this perspective aligns with what you've been observing?

Doug: Yes, very much so. Thank you

 

ChatGPT 4o: You're very welcome! I'm glad the analysis resonated with you. Moby-Dick is such a rich and layered text, and your keen observations about its shifting narrative voice make for fascinating discussions. If you ever want to explore more passages, themes, or structural quirks, I’m always happy to dive deeper with you. Happy reading! ⚓📖🐳

 

 

Multimedia Chapter 37 Sunset

 

Original Chapter 37 Sunset with Deletions

 

The cabin; by the stern windows; Ahab sitting alone, and gazing out.

 

I leave a white and turbid wake; pale waters, paler cheeks, where’er I sail. The envious billows sidelong swell to whelm my track; let them; but first I pass.

 

Yonder, by the ever-brimming goblet’s rim, the warm waves blush like wine. The gold brow plumbs the blue. The diver sun—slow dived from noon,—goes down; my soul mounts up! she wearies with her endless hill. Is, then, the crown too heavy that I wear? this Iron Crown of Lombardy. Yet is it bright with many a gem; I, the wearer, see not its far flashings; but darkly feel that I wear that, that dazzlingly confounds. ’Tis iron—that I know—not gold. ’Tis split, too—that I feel; the jagged edge galls me so, my brain seems to beat against the solid metal; aye, steel skull, mine; the sort that needs no helmet in the most brain-battering fight!

 

Dry heat upon my brow? Oh! time was, when as the sunrise nobly spurred me, so the sunset soothed. No more. This lovely light, it lights not me; all loveliness is anguish to me, since I can ne’er enjoy. Gifted with the high perception, I lack the low, enjoying power; damned, most subtly and most malignantly! damned in the midst of Paradise! Good night—good night! (waving his hand, he moves from the window.)

 

’Twas not so hard a task. I thought to find one stubborn, at the least; but my one cogged circle fits into all their various wheels, and they revolve. Or, if you will, like so many ant-hills of powder, they all stand before me; and I their match. Oh, hard! that to fire others, the match itself must needs be wasting! What I’ve dared, I’ve willed; and what I’ve willed, I’ll do! They think me mad—Starbuck does; but I’m demoniac, I am madness maddened! That wild madness that’s only calm to comprehend itself! The prophecy was that I should be dismembered; and—Aye! I lost this leg. I now prophesy that I will dismember my dismemberer. Now, then, be the prophet and the fulfiller one. That’s more than ye, ye great gods, ever were. I laugh and hoot at ye, ye cricket-players, ye pugilists, ye deaf Burkes and blinded Bendigoes! I will not say as schoolboys do to bullies,—Take some one of your own size; don’t pommel me! No, ye’ve knocked me down, and I am up again; but ye have run and hidden. Come forth from behind your cotton bags! I have no long gun to reach ye. Come, Ahab’s compliments to ye; come and see if ye can swerve me. Swerve me? ye cannot swerve me, else ye swerve yourselves! man has ye there. Swerve me? The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run. Over unsounded gorges, through the rifled hearts of mountains, under torrents’ beds, unerringly I rush! Naught’s an obstacle, naught’s an angle to the iron way!


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