I'm back on O'Brian. I've neglected fiction over the last few months in favor of my schoolwork, but I find that I must regulate the gross humors from time to time with a brisk whiff of the salt air. As Ishmael puts it: "Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off – then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me." If a man can't actually take to ship, the nautical fiction of Patrick O'Brian is the next best thing (always excepting Lord Melville, of course)--maybe even better, as one doesn't have to reckon with sea sickness. This is my second time through the series, and it's better than ever. Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Driving off the Spleen...
I'm back on O'Brian. I've neglected fiction over the last few months in favor of my schoolwork, but I find that I must regulate the gross humors from time to time with a brisk whiff of the salt air. As Ishmael puts it: "Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off – then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me." If a man can't actually take to ship, the nautical fiction of Patrick O'Brian is the next best thing (always excepting Lord Melville, of course)--maybe even better, as one doesn't have to reckon with sea sickness. This is my second time through the series, and it's better than ever. 
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2 comments:
Scott, heads up. Looks like nine days with an opinionated father in law is too much.
David, is it the sea air, the grog or the madera that makes the sea so special? Personally, I appreciate the friendshop of Jack and Steven.
Which it ain't my relations as is the problem, your honor--it's read this and write that and cut along for the diapers like a rare pluck'd 'n. But a glass (or two) of the Captain's madiera is a capital thing, from time to time, if I may say so.
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