Call Me Critical: The Moby Dick Discussion Group

 

CALL ME CRITICAL 

I don't usually like being in other leader's book discussion groups, mostly because I have been running book groups for over twenty years and don't like giving up my power. 

 

When someone else leads a book group,  I watch what they are doing, rather than thinking or talking about the book. Is the leader patient? Condescending? Prepared? Is the leader better than me ? Did the leader actually read the book? (There are book group leaders who fake it, you know. )   

But even with these reservations, I confess, dear reader... this month I joined a Moby Dick discussion group.  It is a weekly Zoom group that will meet for two hours over the course of twelve Friday mornings. The group is sponsored by a local senior center that I belong to and it is free with membership. The book group leader is a senior who has retired from the tech industry. I don't want to mention his name because I am going to get critical--but he leads literary and current affairs discussions for seniors all around the SF Bay Area. I had never worked with him or seen him work, but he gets fabulous reviews.

The invitation beckoned  from the catalog:

Join us for a reading with commentary of Moby Dick by Herman Melville.

I could not resist.  These are the dog days (whale days?) of summer and COVID-19 is keeping me home. Moby Dick has been on my literary bucket list (that's a fishing metaphor not a death metaphor) ever since I visited Melville's home, Arrowhead, in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, back in July 1995. Later that summer, I vacationed in Nantucket and heard stories of the ill fated whale ship Essex--the ship that inspired the Moby Dick novel. It was attacked and sunk by a sperm whale in 1820 and as for what happened next.......

You can copy the link below into your browser to read the Smithsonian story about this event here:

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/the-true-life-horror-that-inspired-moby-dick-17576/

So, here's the deal. Twenty five years ago I  promised myself that someday I would read Moby Dick.  Now, stranded at home by another great unseen enemy and deadly force of nature--COVID 19--I heard the call (felt the lure?) of the great American novel. I read the first three chapters in preparation for the first book group meeting and was surprised to learn that the first words of the novel are NOT "Call me Ishmael." Yes, that is the first sentence of Chapter I, but there is a preface called "Extracts", which in Melville's words contains "random allusions to whales". What you get are biblical, mythological and historical quotes about whales written from ancient times up to the 1800s.  Moby Dick was was published in 1851.

Here is one such quote by Jean Léopold Nicolas Frédéric,  also known as Baron Cuvier (August 1769 – 13 May 1832),  a French naturalist and zoologist, sometimes referred to as the "founding father of paleontology":

Cuvier drawing of  sperm whale (1836)

"The whale is a mammiferous animal without hind feet."

If you love these kinds of references and observations, Moby Dick is for you! Which brings us to book group. 

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I logged into Zoom at 10 a.m. on a Friday morning and found fifteen eager participants. Only a third, however, showed their faces. The rest had blocked the video...or were unable to turn it on.  There was friendly conversation--it appeared that many in the group knew each other either from previous book discussions or just around town--and there were a lot of greetings. The book group leader is a distinguished looking white haired bearded man. He is perhaps my age, 62, or perhaps decades older. That's because California seniors in my neck of the woods--especially those who get involved in life long education, tend to age very well!  He greeted the group and acknowledged that there were a few new members, like me. But he did not ask us to introduce ourselves--so although I showed my face,  I remained a stranger. He then gave us some brief background about Moby Dick. I took notes, so here goes:

• Moby Dick was first published in 1851
• Herman Melville dedicated it to his great friend Nathaniel Hawthorne.
• As a young man, Melville, himself, was a sailor on a whaling boat--so he wrote from experience.
• There is a lot about the whaling industry in this book--we are not sure why Melville felt compelled to include it. We may find it boring.
• As we read, we might want to think about who Ishmael really is. "Is he the roguish son of a wealthy family?  He speaks well and does not sound like a sailor. On the other hand, he could be "everyman."

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And with that, our leader began to read the quotes from the preface called "Extracts." He read every quote--every single one--all sixty of them. I thought that was unusual, but wondered if maybe that was his way of warming up or waiting until more participants Zoomed into the group for the actual discussion. When he finished reading the quotes, he asked if there were any questions. There were none, so he began to read Chapter 1.

 At this point, I was annoyed and thought, if I wanted to hear someone read the book to me, I would have streamed an audio version.  But the faces that I could actually see in the video frames were enchanted. One woman ,who appeared to be in her seventies or eighties, was listening with her eyes closed and a big smile on her face. Others were listening intently.  I don't know if the people I could not see were doing  home chores(we actually could see the leader's wife bustling about the kitchen) or having a late breakfast or dozing off. But the group appeared to be okay with this. In fairness, our leader/reader has a really good reading voice and excellent pacing. He could record for an audio book company if he wanted to, and maybe he has.  I actually listened to some sample recordings of Moby Dick after the book group met, and our leader was better than the narrators that I heard. But what I wanted was...well...discussion.

After reading Chapter One, called "Loomings", the leader asked if there were any questions. One woman we could not see asked if when Melville used the phrase "orchard thieves" in a sentence about people having to pay up debts--he was referring to Adam and Eve.

The book group leader said modestly that he did not know.

I knew. Melville was referring to Adam and Eve--I have seen the phrase before, and there are even  some Orchard Thieves cider companies. I kept quiet and did not provide an answer via the chat feature, since nobody else was using the chat feature. Maybe my comments would have been appreciated, maybe not, but I was not going to take a chance--especially since commenting on chat while annoyed is not a great habit to get into.

And  then we were off to Chapter Two--again being read in full--much to my dismay.  By now resigned to the reading, I picked up my book, and read the chapter along with the leader.  The recitation of Chapter Two was completed by noon, the meeting ended and the audience members said goodbye, wished each other a good week and thanked the leader. And that was it. No metaphors explored. No mythological or biblical references explained. No homework for next week.

I was baffled and somewhat frustrated. This was a book discussion without discussion. What had I signed up for? (Granted it was free!)

I went back to the invitation:

Join us for a reading with commentary of Moby Dick by Herman Melville.

Aha!  A READING.  WITH COMMENTARY!

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As it turned out, it was more reading, less commentary--but the leader delivered what was promised. I just misunderstood the invitation. The audience members on Zoom stayed all the way through the two hour meeting. Those that I could see or hear seemed very happy with the proceedings. And I imagine that pre-COVID, they had met in person to read and hear readings done by this leader-

so a sense of community and comfort may have been already well established.  I could see how setting aside two hours on a weekday morning to listen with others to a reading of Moby Dick, established community, discipline and routine and also a great escape, during this difficult time. 

I know that for me, now reading the book on my own, the descriptions of freezing snow in New Bedford, Massachusetts offer great relief from what have turned out to be the hottest days of this California summer. Meanwhile, a chase after a great white whale is more thrilling than chasing after someone trying to remove my mailbox so that it is harder for me to vote.

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I began to reframe the two hours of my life that I will never get back. I certainly understand the great value of sitting together and listening to a great story--and this case we had a great American story and a talented storyteller.  Yes, this would have been better for me if we were sitting around a New England tavern drinking ale on a dark and stormy night --instead of sitting in front of a computer screen in a sunny California kitchen or back deck. No, I am not going to return to this group, as I personally wanted more active discussion. But against my natural tendencies,  I have chosen not to be snarky about the "other" book group leader and how he runs the group.  And on that Friday morning, I truly wanted to be snarky as in: You call this a book group?  

But now, I think that I should have  reworked the first line of this blogpost.

Call this a book group!

It was way different than what I wanted or what I expected, but yes....the senior center online (Zoom) Moby Dick reading and commentary group--is a book group to be reckoned with and respected! I wish my fellow literary travelers a safe and rewarding  voyage as we now part ways! 

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What You See Is What You Get: Notes from the Virtual Classroom

Picture this!  

It’s 9 a.m. on a Monday and you are a college professor starting an online class. Your students, physically separated from you and from each other, since Corona Virus closed your campus, sleepily appear in little boxes on your screen.  In one box, to the left, a student stands at an angle.  Is that a checkout counter you see? You take a closer look, spot a familiar logo and realize that he is shopping at Costco.

How should you react?

 a) Furiously take him down in front of the class?

 b) Compliment him for multitasking?                                             c) Ask him to get you some toilet paper?

This is not a hypothetical. It happened to my colleague, Dr. M, who fortunately, for all concerned, teaches psychology.

The good doctor decided to overlook the shopper and started class. That’s because Dr. M considered whether this teen was the designated shopper for his family. 

Was he shopping for the elderly?

Was the Wi-Fi at Costco better than the Wi-Fi at home?

What would I have done? I teach English as a second language and it has taken me hours to reformat lectures. I would be furious if a student signed into my class from a shopping cart.  At the very least, the kid could block his the video. Oh wait—maybe he didn’t know how. Inspired by Dr. M, I reframed.  In my own virtual class, three young Chinese men lucky enough to get flights home, were signing in live to my 9 a.m. class. They appeared at midnight, their time, from hotel rooms in Beijing. Now in the world before COVID-19, how would you judge students showing up at midnight from anywhere—let alone a hotel?  Sadly, that’s where my students are quarantined for two weeks before being allowed to return to their families.

Picture this!  A college professor forced to shift her teaching style within days, now has to shift social expectations—not just framing the student visages on her screen—but also reframing them.

Okay Boomer--A Put Down or A Rallying Cry?

“Okay Boomer” is the phrase that young people, often in their thirties—use to disrespect elders like me—a woman born  after the end of World War II in the era of national fertility known as the Baby Boom.

The first time I heard the phrase directed at me, I was teaching English to international college students.  I told a 20-year-old guy from France to stop texting and pay attention.  As he looked up from his phone, he said in a beautiful French accent: “Okay Boo-mere.” I didn’t know whether to be insulted or proud that he was picking up idioms so well.

The next time "Okay Boomer" hit home—it was self-directed.  I was croaking it out to myself—at the gym.  It was 7 a.m. on a chilly morning in Mountain View—in a gym that was once a two-story warehouse.  Even while working up a sweat, I was layered in a T-shirt and hoodie. I was working with a trainer on squats for balance and strength. No weights, no ropes, no equipment—just me, my 62-year old knees and my belly—what others call a “core.” Across the gym, a breathtaking young woman, training for the Olympics in the sport of mountain biking, was warming up by leaping upwards over the loft stairs, taking them four at a time. The sweat glistened on her bare midriff as she returned to the ground. And on that very same ground, just feet away,  I creaked into my fifth squat out of ten.  My trainer Matt, a guy in his early thirties who has eyes in the back of his head and pays attention to the smallest details, called out the reps-- "five more to go.”  I wondered how he was going to keep count with me as the  mountain biker goddess began a new series of leaps.  He was acting like he didn't notice her feats of strength--but, hell, I was noticing them. I creaked into squat six. Could I get to seven?

"Okay Boomer", I whispered to myself—at least I thought it was a whisper.  Matt heard it—and started to laugh—with me and not at me. Really—he laughed with me--while at this point we both watched the Olympian.  And at that moment, I realized that "okay boomer"was a rallying cry  It was a cry of inspiration—not resignation--loud and proud—a call to action, showing myself and others what I was made of. (Of course, the others had to be paying attention)  I finished my squats, got some water--hydrating as it is known amongst us athletes. And as I fished the keys to my Prius out of my lightweight crossbody purse, I celebrated my strength—(at least what was left of it)--and headed to Costco, ready to haul oversized packages into the trunk!