Moby Dick does not tell a story. It is not a novel. Perhaps not even a book. It is a monster that stands among other written volumes as the white leviathan stands among other sea creatures. Moby Dick cannot be narrated, “though many have tried” (to quote Melville).
What can a narrator do with it, then (and in the time of a narration)? He can at least make some incandescent fragments shine; make us sense, by synthesis, the entire light, the entire heat of the magma. He can say: “I am like a deep-sea diver who descends into the abyss. He finds Atlantis. He cannot come back up carrying Atlantis on his shoulders. He can bring back some fragments, however (a coin, a piece of an amphora, the nose of a statue).
And then say: ‘look, this is not Atlantis; it is proof that, down there, there is Atlantis: go and take a look there, if you have the chance.’ ”
