Uncategorized | February 12, 2004

I’m finally doing a thing I’ve always wanted to do, yet also feared. Last week, I left the kiddie pool and took a walk to the Olympic size. Climbed the high dive—and I’m talking about the 30 footer, maybe with sharks down below, and maybe there’s water but there is certainly burning oil on top. Scary. Still, I jumped. What I’m saying is, I began to read Moby Dick. And the strangest, wildest part of all…I’m liking it. I’m not sure what I expected from the tale of Ishmael and Ahab and that giant whale, but what I didn’t expect was readability. An engaging, and at times—dare I say it—comical, narrator. Brilliance, I expected, but not necessarily clarity. If you’ve read it, then you know all this already, and shame on you for not telling me. If you haven’t read it, then give it a whirl. There are a lot of pages—I won’t lie about that—but you’ll get through them and come out of the deep pool not only unscarred, but ready for another swim.

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