These journals present one of the few areas (for me)
in which Melville is less than he might be, but the
scholarly backup provided by the main editor for
this volume, Howard C. Horsford, ably assisted by
Lynn Horth, G. Thomas Tanselle, Harrison Hayford,
and Alma A. MacDougall fills out the volume with
a wealth of "Discussions" (notes to mentioned items
in the texts of the journals -- these notes go from
page 250 to page 542), "Textual Notes" (not very
interesting except to persons interested in the
picayune details of Melville's underlinings,
spellings, cross-outs, etc.), -- but then, the
editors supply a section titled "Melville's
Agricultural Tour Memorandum (1850)", "Melville's
Notes in Hawthorne's _Mosses_ [From An Old Manse],
and "Melville Abroad: Further Records (1849-1860)".
Many of the "Discussions" items are very interesting
and informative, but the excellent additions are the
drawings, photos, and photo-copies which enrich
the text and the references. There is a photo
of the 5 manuscript notebooks used for his journals
on p. 210 of this volume; there is a photo of
Melville and his youngest brother Thomas, captain of
the ship _Meteor_ on p. 196; there are also maps
such as the one on p. 248 of Melville's European
Route 1849-1850, Melville's Mediterranean Route
1856-1857 on p. 380.
The drawings in the volume are very interesting
and fine. There are personal drawings and photocopies
of personal letter entries that show the "human" side
of Melville and his family. On p. 642 there is
Melville's own drawing of his home and fields at
"Arrowhead" (outside of Pittsfield, Mass.); there
is a photo of Melville's children on p. 637 --
frail, thin looking Stanwix, Malcolm looking off
into the distance, and Elizabeth looking glumly
at the camera. It follows a chilling (from the
apparent lack of warmth, but maybe only from the
inability to express it to his own children) letter
which Melville wrote to his son Malcolm while on
his Pacific voyage of 1860. Here is an excerpt
from that letter on pp. 636-637: "I hope that you
have been obedient to your mother, and helped her
all you could, & saved her trouble. Now is the
time to show what you are -- whether you are a good,
honorable boy, or a good-for-nothing one. Any boy,
of your age, who disobeys his mother, or worries her,
or is disrespectful to her -- such a boy is a poor
shabby fellow; and if you know any such boys, you ought
to cut their acquaintance." Knowing that this son
Malcolm committed suicide several years later,
at home, in his bedroom, gives this letter a chilling
bit of resonant context.
The journals included in this volume are: "Journal
of a Voyage from New York to London 1849," "Journal
1856-1857" (of his trip to Glasgow, to Liverpool -- where
he had that most interesting meeting with Hawthorne
and the resulting walk and talk in the sand dunes;
to Constantinople, to Alexandria and Cairo, then
to Jaffa, Jerusalem, the Dead Sea (from which he
would later write _Clarel_), to Athens, to Sicily,
to Naples, to Rome, to Florence, to Venice, Milan,
Turin, Genoa, Berne, Strasbourgh, Heidelburgh,
Frankfort, Cologne, Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and
London, and a trip to Oxford ("Most interesting spot
I have seen in England. Made tour of all colleges.
It was here I first confessed with gratitude my
mother land, & hailed her with pride. *** Soul &
body equally cared for. *** I know nothing more
fitted by mild & beautiful rebuke to chastise the
ranting of Yankees."), Stratford, Warwick, and back
to Liverpool. The final Journal is the one of 1860,
"kept on board ship "Meteor" ...From Boston to
San Francisco."
Some of Melville's notes are brief and cryptic,
and one is at loss to know what appears to be a
personal, secretive note to jog his memory at some
later time. Some of the drawings included which I
found interesting were of the Hotel de Cluny,
Ehrenbreitstein, a full image photo of the statue
of Antinous at the Capitoline Museum ("G.S. Hillard
described the Antinous as 'not merely beautiful' but
'beauty itself' --from note on p. 465), the relief
of Antinous at the Villa Albani, the Athena at the
Villa ALbani.
What surprises one from the journals is an awareness
of how much walking, smoking of cigars, and drinking of
various kinds of alcoholic beverages Melville did on
his trips. But then there are also the interesting
people he met such as the young man he dined with
who gave him a flower. Melville was also a lover of
opera, good food in cheap restaurants, and a grumbler
about hotels with crawly critters in the bed clothes.
All in all this is interesting country to travel
through, but more from what its suggests and causes
the imagination to mull over rather than the fully
written text about his travels. Like many, perhaps,
the experience was the thing to be treasured and
remembered, rather than to be rendered into a fully
articulated prose recounting as a creative work itself
(such as Thoreau's journals, or Hawthone's notebooks).

Irrespective of what Penguin Books claims ("White-Jacket is one of the greatest novels of the sea. . ."), Herman Melville's book about life aboard a USN frigate in 1843, and, by extension, life in general (the Neversink is to be viewed "as a microcosm of the larger world") -- hardly merits consideration, let alone commendation. However, it is an exercise in drudgery. Indeed, upon completing the semi-autobiographical account one feels as if having personally made the grueling fourteen-month voyage. The few gripping anecdotes are hardly sufficient to keep the reader involved, their underlying meanings being either diffuse, dry, trite -- or all of the above. Verdicts such as "shallow," or "dull reading," as posted by similarly frazzled readers, are accurate, if euphemistic. Typically marvelous Melvillian prose, though.

Irrespective of what Penguin Books claims ("White-Jacket is one of the greatest novels of the sea. . ."), Herman Melville's book about life aboard a USN frigate in 1843, and, by extension, life in general (the Neversink is to be viewed "as a microcosm of the larger world") -- hardly merits consideration, let alone commendation. However, it is an exercise in drudgery. Indeed, upon completing the semi-autobiographical account one feels as if having personally made the grueling fourteen-month voyage. The few gripping anecdotes are hardly sufficient to keep the reader involved, their underlying meanings being either diffuse, dry, trite -- or all of the above. Verdicts such as "shallow," or "dull reading," as posted by similarly frazzled readers, are accurate, if euphemistic. Typically marvelous Melvillian prose, though.

While White-Jacket seems to have little overall relation to Melville's other works in the sense that it appears as a self-contained, highly enjoyable novel, Redburn is one of those central turning points in this great writer's life that makes it extraordinarily important. Forget "adventure" or "romance." This is a novel of psychological destruction, a disasterous novel of "growing up" that displays the shattering of a young mind and the destruction of "young America." Any reader who loves Moby-Dick should devour Redburn again and again as one of Melville's most important works.

This book can be read on its own even though it is the sequel to TYPEE. There are 82 short chapters that cover life on a whaler and various experiences on the island of Tahiti as well as surrounding islands. We get a feel for life on a whaler and for life on the islands and how foreigners, especially missionaries, influenced the natives for the worse.

Omoo means a rover or one who wanders from island to island. Thus the title fits the feel of the narrative, but also points out a shortcoming as the book roves too much. We are taken from situation to situation a bit too abruptly. There are many characters and events that are introduced, but usually only on a superficial level. I would have liked more in-depth analysis from Melville as many of the characters were just that--characters. Also there are many, for me, unknown nautical terms used that made the reading hard work.

However, enough of the stories give you the sense of being "omoo", especially in a time vastly different from our own, that I recommend the book, even with the many sections that make you plod.

is an excellent travel memoir (partially fictionalized) in the same vein as Typee.

Typee struck me most by its pictorial quality and sumptuous imagery. In Omoo, however, Melville shores up his powers of characterization, creating a fine supporting cast of individuals.

If you are only familiar with Melville's later work, you will be surprised by the wry sense of humor Melville flashes throughout. Detailed descriptions of practical jokes, drunken brawls, and cultural faux-pas will make you smile, and sometimes laugh out loud. Certain passages are actually a riot!

Also, in this novel (as compared to Typee), Melville's intrusions into the narrative are less glaring than they are in the previous novel. Yes, some of the diversions take the steam out of the narrative, as in Typee, but these diversions oftentimes give necessary exposition to illuminate characters' motivations.

The beginning of the novel effectively captures the claustrophobic atmosphere aboard a whaling ship, and the crew are indeed a motley lot.

Though you do not have to read Typee before you read Omoo (although the first page of Omoo is, literally, a continuation of the last page of Typee), I recommend you read both in conjunction. Be prepared to absorb a beautifully rendered atmosphere, describing the life of two roving beachcombers in the South Pacific in the early 19th century.

Why does it seem that the horse story get's twisted into the youth of this country. This is More Propaganda to save the wild horses. I am tired of this agenda being fed to my children

Don't listen to the guy who gave this book only one star. The research carried out by the author is accurate and correct. Columbus did in fact re-introduce the horse (inadvertently)to North America. If you're really that curious about it all then read 'The Nature of Horses'. I forget the name of the author but it is a first-class scientific account of the evolution of the horse and its escape from extinction by domestication (yes it's true, if we didn't enjoy giddy-upping so much on the backs of horses or getting them to pull stuff there would be no more of the majestic creatures around!). What the previous reviewer mistook as propaganda is actually the product of sound archaeology and zoology. There you have it, straight from the horses...