Billy Budd

When a friend of mine from high school couldn't sell this book back at the end of the year and threatened to throw it out instead, I happily offered to take it off of his hands and save it from the bin. I mean, I have always been a fan of free books and I prided myself on being able to read and enjoy literature that frustrated and bored others. It turns out I should have let him throw the book in the trash can no matter how free it was. If Ahab had been real (and yes, I know that this is not Moby-Dick, which I, in fact, read long ago, and Ahab plays no part here), I would have begged him to take off his wooden leg and beat Melville around the head until he was too insensible to write any more of his dreadfully boring and tormenting show more works. In case I'm being too subtle, this is a roundabout way of admitting that I loathed this novella and short story collection and it took me well over a year to work my way through it, forcing myself all the way, unwilling to let it defeat me.

The longest section of the book is the novella, Billy Budd. The story of a sweet, comely, exceedingly strong, and perfect sailor who in a moment of passion, accidently kills his accuser and therefore must be condemned to hang as per naval law, the tale is full of digressions and philosophical weavings and quite honestly, I was ready to hang this paragon of virtue myself by the end of it all just to be finished. Interpreting Billy as Adam, sinning through no fault of his own but doomed to be punished heavily for that sin or as a Christ figure, making the ultimate sacrifice in order that goodness might triumph over evil, did nothing to make the story more appealing or enjoyable. Perhaps I just don't like allegories, having had this visceral reaction to others as well. But the other stories in the collection were almost as tedious as Billy Budd with the slight advantage that they were shorter. And while I fully appreciate Melville's place in the American literature canon, I'd be happy to be the one to light the fuse and blow him away over the yardarm. (And yes, before any smug and pretentious defenders of literature come out of the woodwork, I do know the difference between canon and cannon and made a deliberate choice here.) show less

I haven’t read Melville since struggling through Moby Dick in university, and was quite pleasantly surprised to find an interesting collection of short stories with humour, extraordinary characters, exuberant language and psychological analysis.
The approach is certainly not modern, with leisurely and sometimes convoluted sentences that make me think of Henry James. But the irony and comic exaggerations take Melville beyond James to, in places, a style more like that of Charles Dickens. And the variety of tales in this collection was unexpected, from the metaphorical character studies in Billy Budd and Bartleby, to the horror of Benito Cereno, the Encantadas travelogue and then the comical Lightning-Rod Man.
With the great variety, show more the one relative constant is the joy that Melville seems to have in the written language and the pleasure it brought me as a reader. He plays with words and language, even in a sombre story like Billy Budd, in a way that suggests he wants to entertain the reader on more than one level. A reader in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, of course, with a smaller publishing output and fewer activities competing for entertainment time, could take the time for literary games. I won’t say that I stopped to work out the allusions in every sentence, but I did enjoy slowing down and reading the book of the pleasure of the prose. I don’t want it to sound like the stories are tediously dense; it is merely that they reward a slower contemplative read.
Melville brings an interesting variety of social themes into his stories. Billy Budd, for example, is an allegory of innocence destroyed by war. Billy is set up by a superior officer on a British ship that is technically in a war zone. Because of a stutter, he is unable to defend himself, and naval regulations require his hanging. Melville points out that he could have been saved, but the ship’s captain, while reluctant, feels he has to carry out the regulations to the letter to impose crew discipline. This is absurd and horrific as everyone can see, but Billy becomes an innocent victim of the logic of war. It’s also a touching story of a sympathetic character and Melville leaves the reader with a sense of loss.
The Encantadas series is also an interesting read, an exotic travelogue with atmospheric descriptions of the islands and the stories of its few inhabitants. It’s curious that Melville never went to the islands, but simply rewrote stories he found in other publications, although he writes very convincingly in the first person. It appears that he was less interested in inventing stories than in putting them to language and engaging the reader. As a meditation on the hard struggles to survive in the islands, Melville reflects that we are all in an existential struggle – a theme that remains relevant for modern readers.
Benito Cereno runs as a horror story of its time, like a movie about unsuspecting travellers checking into a murderous town. Set on a ship in an isolated cove, I imagine the story would be quite chilling for nineteenth century readers who could see themselves defenceless at sea and becoming increasingly fearful as they slowly come to realize that they are facing a vicious opponent. Unfortunately, for a modern reader, the grotesque racist characterizations of the African crew they are facing make it hard to empathize. In fact, my sympathies tended to be with the Africans, which I think is not what Melville intended.
Next to these, the smaller pieces, The Piazza, The Lightning-Rod Man and The Bell Tower, are a bit lighter although equally enjoyable. The Lightening Rod Man is quite funny, reminding me of a parody advertisement of a television huckster, had Melville known what such a thing is. All in all, this was an enjoyable collection, and a reminder to slow down and just enjoy the prose even if the story line itself is far from anything we would encounter in modern life. show less

This is a character study of a "pretty" and naive young man and the arbitrariness of life. It has some good sentences and the implicit messages about injustice and power are clear enough. That said, it's a classic which is hard to embrace. The language is sometimes cumbersome and I found it hard to identify with or care about the principal character.

I like this book though, like "Lord Jim", that I recently read, I had to get used to the writing style all over again. The sentences are long, and need concentration in order to understand. Yet, in this book, they convey an almost lyrical, poetic quality to the story, and you feel the emotion and the atmosphere of the scenes that Melville creates.

The tragedy of Billy Budd does stay on - an abandoned child, illiterate, good-looking, almost innocent in his persona, condemned to death for one mistake made in panic, over a charge that was patently false, and made with malicious intent.

Is this an allegory on life as well? As an old coach once said, 'Life is not fair. Neither is it fair. It is what it is'.

Having said that, innocent die and show more the world forgets those who are not in positions of power. This is clearly demonstrated in the epilogue.

The book could have been written in a style that is angry and bitter. Yet, the lyrical quality of the writing makes the tale even more poignant. show less

I went into this one blind other than suspecting that it would have something to do with ships and sailing, and what I got was that, but also a story about the unfairness of Rules, the power of rumor, and a fantastic character study. And Melville could craft a sentence.

A good friend introduced me to an alternative reading of this novel, in which the narrator is obsessed with upholding the heroic myth of Billy Budd. Every incident is spun out by the narrator to show Billy in the most positive light possible, and Claggart as his evil opposite. If you look closely at the text for the 'facts' of the story though there's not a shred of evidence to support this romantic view of Billy.

In fact, reading between the lines, it's possible to read Claggart as a basically decent man stuck in an impossible situation, and Billy as a charismatic psychopath with a tyrannical grip on his shipmates.

A benefit of this interpretation is that it makes sense of the circumlocutions of the narrator's dialogue, as he turns show more somersaults trying to maintain the myth of The Handsome Sailor.

It's also an appropriately cynical response from an author near the end of his life, looking back at the success of his earlier, more romantic, adventure stories. show less

This is a review only of Billy Budd, not this entire collection of stories.

I just read Billy Budd for the first time since college. Budd, the protagonist of this novella, is a symbol of innocence, and makes a better symbol than a character. His retains his innocence and simplicity (he is also illiterate and uneducated) throughout the story, and that naturally makes him lack any complexity. Assuming we're meant to take Budd's innocence completely seriously, as a Christian reader I find Budd a chimerical figure because I know no one in this sinful world is ever innocent. This story is supposed to be a parable, but parables should reflect reality.

All other aspects of the story are much less problematic. John Claggart and Captain Vere are show more characters who reflect reality, and are therefore more complex and interesting. Claggart distrusts his fellow man to the point of malice and, being an evil man, hates Billy Budd for his innocence. Vere understands both Claggart and Budd, suspects that Budd has been falsely accused, and suffers from guilt after his grim duty. And in what ultimately happens, the parable is valid but commonplace: a wicked man causes the death of a character who hasn't done anything wrong; why did such injustice happen? show less