Herman Melville was an American novelist, short story writer, and poet of the American Renaissance period. Among his best-known works are Moby-Dick (1851); Typee (1846), a romanticized account of his experiences in Polynesia; and Billy Budd, Sailor, a posthumously published novella. At the time of his death, Melville was no longer well known to the public, but the 1919 centennial of his birth was the starting point of a Melville revival. Moby-Dick eventually would be considered one of the great American novels. Melville was born in New York City, the third child of a prosperous merchant whose death in 1832 left the family in dire financial straits. He took to sea in 1839 as a common sailor on a merchant ship and then on the whaler Acushnet, but he jumped ship in the Marquesas Islands. Typee, his first book, and its sequel, Omoo (1847), were travel-adventures based on his encounters with the peoples of the islands. Their success gave him the financial security to marry Elizabeth Shaw, the daughter of the Boston jurist Lemuel Shaw. Mardi (1849), a romance-adventure and his first book not based on his own experience, was not well received. Redburn (1849) and White-Jacket (1850), both tales based on his experience as a well-born young man at sea, were given respectable reviews, but did not sell well enough to support his expanding family. Melville's growing literary ambition showed in Moby-Dick (1851), which took nearly a year and a half to write, but it did not find an audience, and critics scorned his psychological novel Pierre: or, The Ambiguities (1852). From 1853 to 1856, Melville published short fiction in magazines, including "Benito Cereno" and "Bartleby, the Scrivener". In 1857, he traveled to England, toured the Near East, and published his last work of prose, The Confidence-Man (1857). He moved to New York in 1863, eventually taking a position as a United States customs inspector. From that point, Melville focused his creative powers on poetry. Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War (1866) was his poetic reflection on the moral questions of the American Civil War. In 1867, his eldest child Malcolm died at home from a self-inflicted gunshot. Melville's metaphysical epic Clarel: A Poem and Pilgrimage in the Holy Land was published in 1876. In 1886, his other son Stanwix died of apparent tuberculosis, and Melville retired. During his last years, he privately published two volumes of poetry, and left one volume unpublished. The novella Billy Budd was left unfinished at his death, but was published posthumously in 1924. Melville died from cardiovascular disease in 1891.
A mundane scorned poet finds himself bitter with his lack of fame and success. Yet something within him clicks when he meets one of the most self-assured and cheerful persons he has ever met in his life.
This was mostly ok. Not a bad concept, all things considered. I certainly appreciate where this was going. This could've been a great story given the right mix. Unfortunately, this shortie is plagued with Melville's personal touch and his infallible tendency to turn even a fantastic idea, like Moby Dick, into something borderline boring and difficult to bear, let alone enjoy.
Un poeta mundano y despreciado se encuentra amargado por su falta de fama y éxito. Sin embargo, algo dentro de él hace clic cuando conoce a una de las personas más alegres y seguras de sí mismas que jamás haya conocido en su vida.
Esto no estuvo tan mal. No es un mal concepto, considerando todo. Ciertamente puedo apreciar hacia dónde iba. Esta podría haber sido una gran historia si se hubiera dado la combinación adecuada. Desafortunadamente, este corto está plagado con el toque personal de Melville y su infalible tendencia a convertir incluso una idea fantástica, como Moby Dick, en algo casi aburrido y difícil de soportar, y mucho menos disfrutar.
This short story has as its theme the tensions in life caused by fame. Fame may or may not bring happiness. I find it very interesting because the narrator is a poet who just read a very negative review of his work in a newspaper. Melville published this short story in 1854, three years after Moby-Dick or, the Whale, was published. Moby-Dick or, the Whale received very negative initial reviews....
El violinista es un cuento de Melville, pero como si lo hubiera co-escrito con Fiodor Dostoievski. De esos que muestran como a veces el hombre es golpeado por la miseria y sin embargo, trata de mantener la frente en alto...
I do not think Melville's writing is for me. This story was shorter than Bartleby but I still found it just as dull, if anything Bartleby was more entertaining. I may yet change my mind once I discuss him in class however.
Mission 2026: Binge reviewing (and rereading on occasion) all previous Reads, I was too slothful to review, back when I read them.
Greatest Short Stories
What is it all about (spoiler free)
‘The Fiddler’ is a small, seemingly inconsequential sketch that masquerades as a light character study while quietly destabilising everything around it.
Set aboard a ship, the story introduces a marginal figure—a fiddler—whose presence is peripheral, almost ornamental, yet strangely persistent. He does not drive the plot. He does not command authority. He exists on the edges of labour, hierarchy, and meaning.
Nothing “happens” in the conventional sense. Instead, the story observes. It watches how this figure moves through the rigid structures of shipboard life, how he is tolerated, ignored, occasionally indulged, and never fully understood.
The fiddler becomes less a character and more a question: what is the place of art, play, and apparent uselessness in a world governed by function, discipline, and survival?
Postmodern in its refusal of narrative payoff, ‘The Fiddler’ offers itself as an anti-story—one that resists climax and instead lingers in irony, ambiguity, and quiet unease.
Why is it among the greatest?
Because Melville uses ‘‘triviality as a philosophical weapon’’. Let us analyze it pointwise:
1) First, the ‘‘radical marginality of the protagonist’’. The fiddler is not heroic, tragic, or transformative. He exists outside the moral economy of the ship. He produces music, not value. In a world where every man is reduced to function—sailor, officer, labouring body—the fiddler disrupts categorisation. He cannot be neatly assigned worth. This alone makes him dangerous.
2) Second, the ‘‘ship as total system’’. Melville’s ships are never mere settings; they are microcosms of civilisation. Hierarchy, obedience, punishment, labour, and power operate with mechanical precision. Into this system steps a figure who contributes nothing measurable. The story’s brilliance lies in showing how deeply unsettling such a presence is. The fiddler exposes the fragility of systems that claim to be rational and complete.
3) Third, the ‘‘ironic treatment of art’’. Melville refuses to romanticise the fiddler. He is not elevated as a misunderstood genius or spiritual saviour. His music is casual, even irritating. And yet, its very purposelessness becomes its power. Art here is not transcendent—it is stubbornly unproductive. In refusing usefulness, it resists absorption into power structures.
4) Fourth, the ‘‘economy of prose’’. Melville’s style in ‘The Fiddler’ is stripped-down, observational, almost deadpan. The sentences do not swell; they probe. This restraint mirrors the story’s thematic concern with minimalism and excess—what society deems surplus and how it manages it. The prose itself behaves like the fiddler: unobtrusive, persistent, quietly destabilising.
5) Finally, the ‘‘philosophical audacity of the minor’’. Great literature often announces itself loudly. ‘The Fiddler’ does the opposite. It suggests that the most profound critiques of civilisation may arrive not through rebellion or catastrophe, but through uselessness, leisure, and play. This is Melville anticipating later thinkers—Nietzsche, Bataille, even Kafka—who understood that systems reveal their limits when confronted with what they cannot instrumentalise.
Why read it in 2026 and thereafter?
Because ‘The Fiddler’ speaks uncannily to a world obsessed with ‘‘productivity, optimisation, and measurable worth’’.
In the present age, human value is increasingly quantified—metrics, outputs, engagement, efficiency. To exist without producing is to risk invisibility or contempt. Melville’s fiddler stands as a quiet rebuke to this logic. He is tolerated only because he occupies the margins. Were he to demand recognition, the system would have to confront its own cruelty.
The story also resonates deeply with contemporary debates around ‘‘artificial intelligence and automation’’. In a future where machines outperform humans at functional tasks, what becomes of play, art, and purposeless creativity?
‘The Fiddler’ suggests that these elements have always been structurally uncomfortable—not because they are weak, but because they expose the hollowness of purely functional societies.
There is also its relevance to ‘‘mental health and neurodivergence’’. The fiddler does not fit. He does not perform masculinity, discipline, or ambition correctly. Modern readers may recognise in him the figure of the person who exists outside normative expectations—not broken, not deficient, just incompatible with dominant systems. Melville’s refusal to “fix” or explain him feels strikingly modern.
Pedagogically, the story is invaluable for teaching ‘‘how to read minor texts seriously’’. It trains readers to attend to tone, irony, and implication rather than plot. In an age of fast consumption and summary-driven reading, ‘The Fiddler’ insists on patience. It rewards readers who linger.
The story also functions as a ‘‘counterpoint to Melville’s own reputation’’. Known for excess, symbolism, and metaphysical sprawl, Melville here demonstrates radical restraint.
Reading ‘The Fiddler’ alongside ‘Moby-Dick’ reveals the full range of his genius—from cosmic obsession to microscopic observation.
And then there is the ethical relevance. ‘The Fiddler’ quietly asks: what happens to those who do not fit into our systems of value? Do we tolerate them, exploit them, erase them, or listen to them? The story offers no answers. Its refusal to moralise is precisely what makes it enduring.
In 2026 and thereafter, when the pressure to justify one’s existence grows ever more intense, ‘The Fiddler’ remains quietly subversive. It reminds us that not everything meaningful must be useful, that not all presence must be justified, and that sometimes the most radical act is to exist without explanation.
The fiddler does not change the ship. He does not overthrow hierarchy. He simply plays. And in doing so, he reveals the ship for what it is: a system uneasy with joy, suspicious of leisure, and hostile to anything it cannot command.
That is why this slight, almost forgettable story is unforgettable.
Initially members of my book group remarked that they had some difficulties engaging in this tale because of the "dated" language. I have learned during my membership with this short-story group, that it is often preferable to read the stories twice to fully comprehend and visualize the author's intent. As expected, there were many hidden nuggets which each of us discussed.
Melville's theme was focused on ambition. His main character would discover that talent and ambition do not necessarily achieve success. In fact, often enjoyment of the simpler joys of life bring happiness. His characters in the story exemplify these thoughts, with examples of the negative sides of power failing to bring satisfaction in their lives.
An example of the preceding ideas was demonstrated in a conversation among the characters. Success often could undo an individual, or destroy his ability to relate to others with consideration or selflessness. This had been seen in a child prodigy genius and actor, the celebrated, "Master Betty". He enthralled audiences at the age of eleven from 1804-1806 with his acting, eclipsing other actors on stage. His last performance caused his audience to laugh him off the stage with his "Henry III". His attempts to resume his career at the age of 21 from university were met with lukewarm response.
This was an interesting narrative after I became comfortable with the language. I also learned many new things after reading about some of the people and places within this story.
A happy failure. Quite interesting to see a character actually not drowning in the judgement from society due to his poetry failure. He moves on and is happy to admit that he is a failure! Nice message.
Not the one to listen when doing housework. Cool that he told several times about Ancient Greek philosophers. Other than that, a lot of fiddling and calling each other idiots. I probably was not in the right mood for this.