Cigarettes & Moby-Dick - OR - The Epistemology of Re-Reading
by , 10-20-2010 at 10:15 AM (2295 Views)
The other day I pick up my copy of Moby-Dick and leafed through its pages. They were heavily annotated in #2 pencil and smelled of old cigarette smoke. The binding was broken in many places. Pockmarks dot one page, the victim of stray ash from a cigarette that I was smoking at the time.
For about three years, I smoked cigarettes. Not many -- about 2-4 per day. Make that 2-4 per night. Why did I start? So that I could stay awake to read Moby-Dick at night. No, I didn't think it was boring -- sheesh! -- I liked the book a lot.
I was twenty-two and in graduate school; I was teaching, reading, writing. My days and nights were bound by words and meaning. Tiring work. So when coffee and push-ups didn't work (I used to do push-ups, sets of 30, to stay awake too), I started smoking Winston Lights in order to keep reading deep into the New England night.
. . . . .
I started to reread Moby-Dick last night -- my first read of that book since I illegally smoked (in the grad-dorm) to overcome sleep and join the search for the White Whale.
In rereading that book, I was also rereading that episode of my life: solitary, idealistic, open, and bound to a hope that something will come of this advanced study in literature.
Aside: I've come to the conclusion that the more responsibilities we have, the more free we become. But this is the subject for another blog. End Aside
And so yesterday evening was a sort of double-reread of a book and of me. . . .recursive and circular loops through life, language, and story.
. . . . .
I've often wondered about how valuable being widely read truly is to an individual. Some Born-Again Christians that I know have significant parts of Bible memorized, they've read them so often. And while I'm not attracted to their dogma, I greatly admire the Zen-ish quality of their reading. To know one thing as perfectly as possible. To find familiar beauty continuously so wonderful and moving. . . .surely this has a value that is not well seen by most of us.
The Jewish holiday of Simchat Torah, near the holiday of Sukkot, observes when Jews start the annual cycle of rereading Torah from the beginning. To observe this holiday, young members of the synagogue are consecrated into the fold of congregation. A year, a book. Every year, the same book.
Simchat Torah usually falls in October. My oldest daughter was consecrated last weekend. She sang the the shema prayer in Hebrew to those attending the service.
. . . . .
There is an intellectual spirituality in rereading. At least, I know there is for me. And I can hardly describe what it is or why it happens.
Sometimes I walk the edge of my new fence and look just a few yards out into my familiar woods and wonder if I really know anything about them -- the trees and grasses, the leaves and leaf-mold, the nests new & used.



