Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: literature (Page 9 of 39)

A Whale of a Time…

I didn’t know. Several things, in fact. The story about the giant white whale and Cap’n Ahab’s crazy quest for vengeance? Based on a true story.

Not so much the tale of an obsessed whaling captain: Herman Melville made that part up. But the section of his novel about the whale attacking the ship is based on an account of the Nantucket whaler Essex, lost in the south Pacific in 1820.

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It’s amazing the things that can be learned over lunch. While waiting on a table of ladies this afternoon, I was asked if I had an account of the sailing ship Essex, a title that I remembered having been in the Disasters at Sea section. (Yes: We do have an area for that specific topic…)

Nathaniel Philbrick’s 2001 recounting of the disaster is called “In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex.” It has been in and out of the shop numerous times over the years, but it wasn’t until this afternoon that I learned of the event behind the book.

After locating a hardcover copy, I carried it over the table and handed it to her. She mentioned that “this is the story that Moby Dick was based on.”

Well.

I had every reason to believe that Moby Dick was an original story, but not wanting to dispute a guest’s account, I opted to Google it. Wow.

As tough an account as is Moby Dick, the real story is positively hair-raising. Obviously, Herman Melville thought so too, because he created a wild-eyed whaling captain named Ahab in order to retell the disastrous story of the Essex and its loss at sea. In his retelling, Melville actually cleaned up the tale, a story much too gruesome to swallow. (Those of you who know the story of the Essex will please forgive my pun there… I can rarely resist cannibal puns.)

In the few minutes between the ladies’ finishing of their meal and the cash register I learned a lot about the Essex and its fate. The original account of the disaster was penned by twenty-three-year-old First Mate Owen Chase, one of the few survivors and the author of the first-hand recollection published in 1821.

After encountering a pod of whales and harpooning one, Chase noted that a whale much larger than normal was lingering nearby “acting strangely.” The stunned crew watched as the whale suddenly began swimming rapidly toward the ship, continuing its torpedo course until it rammed the wooden vessel. The whale floated next to the Essex as if injured, but moved away at last beyond the bow, but then turned back toward the ship.

“I turned around and saw him,” wrote Chase, “about one hundred rods [500 m or 550 yards] directly ahead of us, coming down with twice his ordinary speed of around 24 knots (44 km/h), and it appeared with tenfold fury and vengeance in his aspect. The surf flew in all directions about him with the continual violent thrashing of his tail. His head about half out of the water, and in that way he came upon us, and again struck the ship.”

Things went south from that point forward. Waaaaaay south.

To be specific: in the South Pacific, some two-thousand miles west of South America. That’s where the Essex sank, and the twenty sailors discussed their next course of action from their three whaleboats, the smaller craft used to chase and harpoon whales. They would be months aboard those stranded boats. Some never left. In the end, only eight crew members survived and eventually made their way back to Nantucket.

That’s where Owen Chase wrote down his recollections, which he titled “Narrative of the Most Extraordinary and Distressing Shipwreck of the Whale-Ship Essex” and published in 1821. That’s the book that Herman Melville was so taken with that he adapted it for a fictional account – Moby Dick.

Foolishly, I thought the Chase book might be so obscure as to be available for purchase at a reasonable price. It is – if you consider $13,500 a reasonable price. There is a single copy offered currently in the bookseller circles. Of course, compared to a first edition copy of Moby Dick, Chase’s book IS a bargain. Melville’s version of the story was published in 1851 and is available for a smidgen over $35,000.

Of course, you’ll find a much more affordable copy in the Literature section here at the shop with no mention of the particular details of the whaling ship Essex.

Especially over lunch.

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

Tough as Nails. Hard to Swallow.

The college football season is at its end – for all practical purposes – and Bowl Week has come and gone. With that behind us, the cliché-quotient will again draw down to a bearable level. Football announcers are likely the greatest perpetrators of the hackneyed phrase, those sayings that are “as good as gold.”

I was in hopes of hearing a cliché for the ages but it just didn’t happen. I wanted the color-announcer to describe the ball-carrier as being adept at “running north and south downhill in space when taking it to the house.” There are probably a dozen others that could have been stacked on to build the perfect collective.

clicheCartoon

No one seems to find the humor in the clichéd phrase quite the The New Yorker, which has long been the go-to source for cartoon versions, as demonstrated by their ballplayer-in-the-boardroom example. They knock ’em ‘out of the park.’

Rivka Galchen writes on the topic of clichés in the Sunday Book Review of this weekend’s New York Times. It’s an interesting column, even if she fails to address the headline: Why Do We Hate Cliché? She does a great job describing how our language has been shaped by phrases that have been passed down for generations.

They often endure even when the times and places that produced them have passed on. When, for example, did we start to say “passed on”? When did glory start showing up in blazes and majorities become vast? When did war become something we wage? When did social commentary so often become searing, and was it around the same time that a certain demographic took a fancy to seared scallops? Why is lyrical something we wax, and why is a whip something we want to be as smart as? At some point someone’s goat was got, someone’s envelope was pushed and the mouth of someone’s gift horse was examined. None of these things happen any more. But we still use the old phrases…

As notable clichés go, I have my own list. I’ve wondered, for example, why treasure is always in a trove. Why does a bus that has left the dangerous roadway always ‘plunge’ into the ravine? How come people die of ‘apparent’ heart attacks? How are they apparent without an EKG machine attached? And is ‘passing away’ somehow different when it isn’t apparent and simply a – heart attack?

There are just so many.

Then, there are some that have to be appreciated for their originality (an oxymoron there… the original cliché). ESPN’s Stuart Scott, who on Sunday lost a long-running battle with cancer, had my admiration early on in his career, with his description of a player performing under duress: He was as “cool as the other side of the pillow,” a phrase that suited Mr. Scott himself. No doubt there are others to his credit, but they are phrases so distinct as to be nearly his trademarks, and their usage by another announcer would be akin to plagiarism.

On the other hand (and why is it on a different hand? Never a foot!), scoring a touchdown is invariably accomplished by “taking it to the house.” The able pass receiver has “big mitts” more often than not. And he’d get his “boots on the ground” just as soon as he quits “running in space.” Truthfully, if there is not a space to run in, the fellow with the ball is pretty quickly brought to the ground. Sometimes, “smash-mouth-football” style.

There are fewer bells being rung, given the new attention to the serious effects of concussions, but that particular cliché-chime hasn’t completely left us. And I don’t object to all the tried-and-true phrases. Give me a “Hail Mary” at the end of any close game, when the “long bomb” is the trailing team’s only prayer for a win.

Frankly, I believe ESPN is “missing the boat” in failing to capitalize on the frequency of the Big-C deliveries. Maybe a downloadable scorecard on which each trite description could be noted, with some Las Vegas odds tossed in to make a wagering sport of it. I’d be “happy as a clam” to keep a running score.

While you are warming up to that idea, I’ll remind you to come in out of the cold for lunch this week. Irish Stew, Shepherd’s Pie, and Potato Soup are the perfect comfort food when it’s as Cold As A…

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

On the Eve of that Special Day.

I’m sitting in the shop. It’s Christmas Eve. The fact that I’m sitting down at the computer is a sure indication that something is different. Normally, on Christmas Eve, there is colorful wrapping paper scattered across a table, tape dispenser at hand, scissors nearby, and a frenetic energy zapping through the surrounding air. News flash: My small stack of presents is already wrapped and ready.

It may be a sign of End Times.

That deadline-induced adrenaline rush has been a lifelong companion, but I have to admit it feels pretty good right now, looking over and realizing that the wrapping-thing is already finished, and the day is just getting started.

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As the season winds down, it is clear to see what a difference a year makes! The bitter winter weather last year, coming on the heels of construction delays in the Rose District, made for tough shopping. But I’m not complaining now, and tried not to then. Survived it, I did – and hung around for another go ‘round. Last year’s experience has made it especially heartwarming this month, watching all the shoppers and browsers wandering up and down the sidewalks.

And so the gifts are wrapped, carols are filling the shop, the smell of cinnamon is in the air (okay, so that part is not true…) and the Spirit of the Season has settled in. There have been inquiries about books this morning, well-wishes exchanged, and plenty of stories and smiles being shared.

I can look over at the tree by the front door and take heart that the poor thing has made it through the entire month wearing nothing but good intentions. When asked about its lack of decoration, I’ve been explaining to folks that it is a Norwegian Nude spruce. A couple of people have believed it, I think – perhaps a result of my sincerely delivered malarkey.

But this is no Blarney… I hope your day and days are the best of your life to date, filled with all the things that only this time of year can bring. Life is a gift. When others share theirs with us, it makes our own so much more grand.

Thank you for your gifts to me this year.

Merry Christmas to all!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

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