Like to Like

The power and mystery of analogy begins to shape our outlook when this surprisingly paradoxical alchemists’ dictum begins to make sense: like to like. The best school book I know to awaken oneself to what I’m getting at here is Moby Dick; the whole text mind you, not just the frantic read skipping the “boring” chapters that drone on about the details of whaling so you can regurgitate the plot on some test.

Mellville was an analogical samurai.  He took the most disperse experiences and ideas and meldem them into a vibrant formulation.  In Moby Dick he makes maneuvers of language that had not been seen before nor since.  (The whole jive about it being the greatest novel of all time misses the point entirely.  Assessing Moby Dick as a novel allows the literary critic to keep the analogical genie in the bottle, as they say.)

“But why say more? All men live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever-present perils of life. And if you be a philosopher, though seated in the whale-boat, you would not at heart feel one whit more of terror, than though seated before your evening fire with a poker, and not a harpoon, by your side.”  Chapter lx, The Line, Moby Dick

While there’s a great deal of scuttlebutt about pirates these days, and even some decent activations of the pirate posture, I’ll argue, analogically of course, that the whalemen owned the sea.  If such a read as Moby Dick seems insurmountable, could I suggest this free 24+ hour of recording over at Libivox?

If your analogical genie hasn’t been uncorked, truly, you haven’t yet raised your sails…

(Don’t forget to drop by the Archetypal Garage)