Bartleby, el escribiente; Benito Cereno; Billy Budd

by Herman Melville

Herman Melville (1819-1891) diseñó personajes y situaciones que funcionan en diversos planos literarios y alegóricos, filosóficos y realistas. Dentro de su narrativa, las tres obras conjugan magistralmente algunos de los elementos más característicos de su estilo: la omnisciencia del narrador, las perspectivas contrastadas y las bruscas rupturas formales. Todo ello se combina en un modelo único de indagación metafísica sobre los efectos aniquiladores para el ser humano de la opresión y el aislamiento.

Genres: Fiction, Classics, Short Stories, Literature, American, College, 19th Century

312 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1855

About the author

There is more than one author with this name

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.

Reviews

[Fátima Linhares · Rating 3 out of 5]

O que têm em comum Billy Budd, Bartleby e Benito Cereno? São três desgraçados, sendo que o primeiro e o terceiro são marinheiros desgraçados e Bartleby acho que não esteve no mar, ou será que esteve e por isso é que prefere não fazer? Pode ser, já que não conhecemos o seu passado. Seria também marinheiro?

Melville escreve bem, não há dúvida, mas, em Billy Budd e, principalmente em Benito Cereno é muito maçudo. Neste último senti-me como se estivesse a ler a descrição d'o casarão. Descrevia, descrevia e nunca mais desenvolvia, sendo que é um acontecimento simples para o qual chegavam 50 páginas, se tanto. Aborrecido, e ainda para mais, cheio de termos náuticos. Acho que não gosto de livros com histórias de marinheiros.

Quanto ao Bartleby, muita gente gosta da história e, de certeza que gostaria de responder ao chefe, "preferia não o fazer", mas isso não o levou muito longe. Não o achei um insolente ou insubordinado, nem sequer arrojado, mas apenas alguém com um trauma qualquer que nunca saberemos qual era. Nesta história é que se devia ter esticado, Sr. Melville.


Billy Budd - 3*
Bartleby - 3*
Benito Cereno - 2*

[Ali Salehi · Rating 5 out of 5]

این امتیاز و نقد مختص «بارتلبی محرر» هست و دو داستان دیگه از نظر من به گرد پای «بارتلبی محرر» هم نمیرسن.

«بارتلبی، چهره‌ی بی‌صدا و تسلیم‌نشده‌ی پوچی‌ست؛ انسانی که تنها با امتناع خود، جهان را متوقف می‌کند.»
— آلبر کامو

«بارتلبی، پیش‌گوی ادبیات مدرن است. او نوشتن را با نگفتن پیش می‌برد.»
— خورخه لوئیس بورخس

«بارتلبی را که می‌خوانی، حس می‌کنی نویسنده‌ای از دل زندانِ سکوت حرف می‌زند. من او را درک می‌کنم.»
— فرانتس کافکا (در مکاتبه با ماکس برود)

«بارتلبی، مثالی غم‌انگیز از انسانی‌ست که معنا را گم کرده و دلیلی برای گفتن "بله" به زندگی ندارد.»
— ویکتور فرانکل

«بارتلبی نماد انسانی‌ست که آزادی‌اش را نمی‌خواهد؛ او از انتخاب می‌ترسد، پس ترجیح می‌دهد "انجام ندهد".»
— اریک فروم

تاکنون هیچ پیش نیامده بود که یک داستان کوتاه باعث شود بیش از نیم ساعت به دیوار سفید زل بزنم و با خود بگویم:
«چقدر دیر شده، و ما انسان‌ها هنوز هم نفهمیده‌ایم...»
بارتلبی محرر، قطعاً جزو ده داستان برتر تاریخ ادبیات آمریکاست.
اثری با فقط چهل‌واندی صفحه که تهِ دل مخاطب را چنان خالی می‌کند،که انگار زمین زیر پایش فرو رفته است.
این داستان، حکایتی بسیار ساده‌ست؛ اما رگه‌های عمیق نقد اجتماعی، سیاسی و روان‌شناسانه دارد.
اثر پیش‌رو زمینه‌ساز خلق شاهکارهایی چون «مسخ» کافکا، «بیگانه» کامو، و «مرگ در ونیز» توماس مان شد.
«بارتلبی محرر»، در ایران با دو ترجمه منتشر شده:
یکی با برگردان روان کاوه میرعباسی،
و دیگری با ترجمه‌ی ادبی و درخشان دکتر صالح حسینی از نشر نیلوفر که من ترجمه دکتر حسینی را توصیه میکنم.

[Parthiban Sekar · Rating 4 out of 5]

"I would prefer not to"

[Max Nemtsov · Rating 5 out of 5]

так вышло, что перевел вот (только "Бартлби"). Гоголева "Шинель" вышла 11 годами раньше, Чеховов "Человек в футляре" 45 годами позже, а посередине был у нас и такой вот "маленький человек" примерно той же породы. хотя на самом деле, конечно, это жуткая "тварь, не желавшая уходить" из фильма ужасов или скетча "субботнего вечера живьем", прямо-таки эпитома кошмарности этого самого "маленького человека". концептуальный яд Мелвилла брызжет здесь так, что проедает потолок и стены

…и при всем при том вот уже больше 170 лет сам по себе Бартлби – прекрасный пробный камень и лакмусовая бумажка, на которых прекрасно проверяются “чаяния” т.н. “либеральной интеллигенции”, потому что рассказ, вообще говоря, не о нем

[Zoë Birss · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book (a Christmas gift from my in-laws) was an absolute pleasure to read, beginning to end. It was also challenging, and often difficult to understand. But it was never less than engrossing and endlessly fascinating.

This was my second time through Bartleby, a story I enjoyed reading so much last year that it led to my being given this beautiful Folio Society edition. I will include last year's thoughts on the story at the end of this review. I was happy to discover that the other two stories here included were also excellent. The following are my thoughts as I finished each.

☠

Benito Cereno
Herman Melville
January 16, 2018

There is a pervasive thread of sexism that runs through much of polite society that still lies under the awareness of some men, even those who imagine themselves "progressive". This particular idea which still infects so many is that women are nice. Now, on the surface, this may not immediately show itself as problematic. However, to examine the idea only a little, that a certain population has an inherent quality unique to them, even if it is one that may be considered mildly virtuous, the consequences of the idea can become apparent to the thoughtful examiner. First is the consequence of that which is imposed upon an entire population of people, an expectation that they are to act in a certain way to fulfill the assumption upon their sex. Second, though not last, is the imputation of "niceness" upon anyone of the sex, thus making the prejudiced viewer blind and deaf to that which the individual members of this population do or say. This prejudice is the one that is surprised at the anger of women at the plague of sexual harassment that has followed them as they have slowly moved out of the home and into the worlds still dominated by men. This is the prejudice that is surprised at all that women are willing to do, in their anger, to make justice for all who continue to be oppressed by this patriarchal system.

We live according to a system that was made by and for white men of middle age. Thus, it prefers white men of middle age in every way. Until that system is uprooted, burned, and resowed, this will continue to be so. Part of this uprooting of the system is the weeding out of these prejudices, including the ones not obviously corrupting in the eyes of the "nice", progressive man, who still sees women as some holy, virtuous "other".

This is similar to the politically correct prejudice of the narrator of Benito Cereno, though of the racist form, rather than sexist. Captain Delano is a good, white, American, Christian man in Massachusetts. He is clearly educated. He has a high opinion of himself. He probably likes how he has all the right ideas and proper opinions. When he sees a ship coming into port, and notices it is moving strangely, he goes out to her with supplies and comes aboard to see how he can help. He discovers a Spanish ship and captain, Benito Cereno, filled with black slaves on the deck, but with all the rest of the Spanish crew working down below. Benito Cereno explains that there was some illness on board that killed much of the crew, and then praises the black slaves for all the good they did to help keep the ship staffed.

It would very likely be obvious to any contemporary reader what has actually happened on board the ship. I cannot know for certain, but suspect that it may have been less obvious to the original readers. Still, what follows remains extremely effective at exposing the naive, self-righteous prejudices of our narrator, Delano, while clearly justifying the actions of the revolting slave crew, as the tension mounts perfectly below the surface, tightening with every page at the anticipation of violence.

Delano sees the black men and women as any proper, educated American of his time would. They are serene, beautiful creatures, to be observed as one would animals in nature. They are holy, described by Delano with language used for members of holy orders and servants of the church. His own excitement at his enlightenment blinds him to the anger and viciousness before his very eyes. The reader thus sees behind every sentence an entirely different vision than that which is described. It's terrifying and beautiful.

Upon discussion of a slave of mixed race, Delano is obviously pleased with himself as he hopes aloud that the "improvement" in the colour of this person doesn't come with the unfortunate consequence of corrupting the beauty of black docility with our horrible whiteness. What to this character must seem like a humble and respectful view of "the black" is revealed in this story as the foundation of his complicity in these humans' suffering.

This novella is brilliant. Were it written today, it might have been written as a revenge fantasy, perhaps by Tarantino. Were it written today by a person of colour, it may be more like a horror comedy akin to Get Out. But this story is a product of its time, not ours, and written to its proper white audience, not to us. Thus, it is a tragedy. I believe it is rightly so. The final image, in the shadow of a church, leaves the proper white audience under the penetrating, accusing gaze of their own victim. I doubt they were yet able to see it, or themselves. I hope that we are different.

☠

Billy Budd
Herman Melville
January 17, 2018

Billy Budd is not an easy story to understand. The last novel written by Herman Melville, it was published posthumously from incomplete texts. There were decades of controversy over the best version of the story. No conclusive interpretation has been given.

As I began the story, I was aware of the many queer interpretations of the tale, and Billy Budd's occasional position as a gay icon. In the first chapters, I felt like I could see this coming, as the character's physical attractiveness is described in great detail, even so far as to be compared positively to a very attractive woman. This point is made a few times as Billy Budd is introduced. Feminine language follows descriptions of him for the first act especially. Melville also describes the existence in every crew of "The Handsome Sailor", one who is loved and protected by the rest of the crew, the position to which Billy Budd is ascribed in whatever crew he is a part.

All of this introduction seemed to me clearly to point to a certain relationship of Billy Budd among the all male crew. However, after this introduction, what seemed to be an obvious direction in the narrative all but ended. Whether Melville expected the reader to make this assumption, and read the rest of the book accordingly, or it is something read into the text by readers over one hundred years removed from the culture in which it was written is something I do not have the sophistication to adequately discern. However, I did allow myself to hold the perspective lightly as I continued to read.

The rest of the story leads us through tragic events of misunderstanding, jealousy, politics, and possibly mental illness as well. The strongest allusion apparent to me was one of crucifixion, with Billy Budd as the Christlike sacrifice. For the sake of politics, the letter of the law, and the pride of those in power, he is cut down. Though innocent, as far as this reader can tell, Billy Budd must silently fall victim to an unjust machine for the sake of others.

The fears of those in power that lead to Billy's demise are of appearances of weakness, and the possibilities of revolt or mutiny. Once again, these themes, of fear of change and protection against vulnerability by those in power, do harmonize with a queer reading of the text. But such an interpretation is far from explicitly clear.

Most difficult to interpret are the book's final chapters, which seem to render moot some of what was assumed in the text by all the pages before. I was simply confused, unable to parse it all, and eventually hung it up as a difficulty with an incomplete, posthumously published narrative.

I loved the story. I wished as I read it to find a conclusive gay reading, since it did seem like such a reading worked so well. Whether it is so, or a more general and straightforward allegory of Christ, part of the appeal of the novel is this mystery. It may have been my least favourite of the stories contained in the collection in which I read it. But it is the one I am most likely to return to for rereading first.

+

Oh yeah... It was also fun to imagine Billy Budd looking like a very young William Shatner, knowing that he played the character in a made-for-television adaptation in the 1950s.

☠

(The following is pasted from my original review last year. My thoughts on the story have not changed much, except that I enjoyed reading it the second time even more than the first.)

Bartleby, The Scrivener
November 19, 2017

I blame Crispin Glover.

Last year ended with an unfortunate dip into the deep end of literature as I made an attempt at Moby Dick. I had rightly concluded by my great enjoyment of East of Eden years before that there is something special about lengthy narratives, and of classics. Moby Dick being both, when I found a handsome edition, I gave it a try. This did not go well.

I am happy to have found lengthy fiction and classic fiction since Moby Dick that has suited my tastes much better. But even though I could appreciate the biblical allusions and literary style of Moby Dick, on the whole i found it a bore that was only exacerbated by its great length. Ugh. I concluded that I had enough of Herman Melville, and would never again indulge his creations.

Enter Crispin Glover. Of this enigmatic man I have had a serious interest, bordering on excessive, on and off for many years. He is like an itch in my brain, a puzzle that I must imagine is only one article, one performance, one piece of art or interview or appearance away from being solved. Yet, he eludes me. This lack of any conclusion to the questions he raises in me about the nature of celebrity, of art, of writing, of film, of activism, of the facade of Hollywood itself, just sticks like a burr in my mind, never satisfied, only swelling and abating in its need for my attention. Generally speaking, I will encounter something connected in some way to Crispin Glover, sparking a desire to explore the work of this strange person again for a month or two. This will fade, though never fully disappear, until my next encounter a month or six later, reminding me that no other public figure fascinates me in the way Crispin Glover does, and the cycle begins anew.

Thus I found myself a few weeks ago at my local used book store, looking through the display glass at two new oddments, small hardcover books, foil embossed, with the name Crispin Hellion Glover upon them. Both were signed. Both were exorbitantly priced, as Glover's books are very difficult to procure at normal book prices outside of the United States, even besides the currency difference. Still, I was entranced. Upon looking at both, and experiencing major feels at both reviews, including but not limited to intrigue, horror, and disgust, I found myself making an out-of-character financial decision and returning the following day to take home one of these glorified zines, limited edition and hardcover though they may be.

The book in question is Rat Catching, by Crispin Hellion Glover. My partner devoured the book upon my bringing it home, after which I immediately did the same, and then repeated the same for the three days following. I loved it. And my Crispin Glover curiosity bloomed once again. I borrowed his CD from the library. I watched his music videos. And I found another rare gem of an indie film starring Crispin Glover that I still had never seen.

Bartleby.

This was one of the most brilliant, one of the funniest, most interesting, most curiously stylish films I have seen in years. And Crispin Glover could not have possibly been more perfectly cast in the title role. He delivers a performance, again, as he always does, unlike any I have ever seen. There is one scene about twenty-eight minutes into the film that is among the funniest segments I have ever seen in any film in my life. This is almost entirely because of Crispin Glover's brilliant interpretation of the character. It is amazing.

Therefore, I was thrust back into the arms of Herman Melville, though I did not care to be so thrust. What could I do? The enigma of Crispin Glover has once again bewitched me. That the author of Moby Dick is now entwined in the riddle is no fault of mine. I descended upon this novella, then, already assuming that I would love what I found within. Amazingly, I was not disappointed.

This novella is one of the best books I have read in 2017. It is a social satire on the state of capitalism and its impact on the soul of humanity, as well as a criticism of the weakness inherent in the oppressive system - it only moves forward if those oppressed by it volunteer to participate in their own oppression.

Personally, I would prefer not to.

Whether the original text would have been read as blazingly hilarious to its contemporaries, or I am impacted by the ghost of Crispin reading all of Bartleby's dialogue to me as I read, I can not know. I do know that as much as I enjoyed the film, I actually enjoyed the book even more. It is as enigmatic and strange and funny and mysterious and biting and disturbing as the man who plays the title character in a film of our age, while still fully embodying the spirit of Wall Street in the age in which it was written. Put simple, it holds up. This is a timeless tale, and these are timeless characters. It is a fast read, though I recommend taking it slowly and letting yourself experience the subtext in every line.

I very highly recommend this short novella. I also recommend the film. They are separate pieces, and could be enjoyed in either order, I'm sure. Without giving spoilers, I would say, though, that the criticism of Capitalism is much sharper, and more clearly and viciously and ironically displayed in the book than in the film.

Please read this book and watch this film, for your own sake, won't you?

Unless you would prefer not to.

☠

Folio Society, 1967
Illustrated by Garrick Palmer (woodcut)
Introduced by John Hampden

Five Stars

January 12-17, 2018

☠

[Pavlogreen]

Asumidlo: Bartleby no es un rebelde ni un crítico de ningún sistema. Es un tontopollas de cuidado y un impresentable que se cree guay por ir de emo y huraño. Tanto que hace bueno a su patrón, que debería ser el malo de la historia si esto fuese un relato anticapitalista (que no lo es). Bartleby el esfribiente es un chiste muy largo de Chiquito de la calzada si Chiquito hubiese sido protestante. Si queréis hacer la revolución, por favor, buscad otros referentes literarios.

Muy recomendable, en cualquier caso.

[Vítor Leal · Rating 5 out of 5]

Maravilhosa a ficção curta de Herman Melville. Moby Dick é o livro cimeiro, a sua obra-prima, embora Bartleby, Benito Cereno e o marinheiro Billy Budd sejam inesquecíveis.
Billy Budd
“entregava-se por vezes a um estado de espírito sonhador. Sozinho sobre a coberta, a barlavento, com uma mão a segurar o cordame, ficava a olhar perdidamente o mar sombrio. Se num desses momentos o viessem importunar com qualquer assunto de menos importância, daria sinais de maior ou menor irascibilidade, mas logo se dominaria. (...) o capitão Vere era uma personalidade excepcional. Ao contrário do que aconteceu a muitos famosos marinheiros ingleses, não se deixou absorver totalmente pela longa e árdua tarefa que exercia com exemplar devoção, não se limitou a viver o exercício da sua profissão. Tinha uma acentuada tendência pelas coisas intelectuais. Adorava livros e nunca empreendia uma viagem sem fornecer de novas obras a sua biblioteca, pequena, mas recheada do melhor. As solitárias horas de ócio, bem difíceis de suportar, a que por vezes, e mesmo quando em missões de combate, os comandantes estão sujeitos, nunca eram de tédio para o capitão Vere. O seu gosto literário não o levava a uma leitura mais agradável pela forma do que pelo conteúdo; as suas preferências iam para os livros que naturalmente atraem todos os espíritos superiores que ocupam um lugar de autoridade.
Obras tratando do homem e dos acontecimentos de todas as épocas - biografias e história - e escritores independentes que claramente e sem convenções, como Montaigne, falam com bom senso das realidades tangíveis.”

[Iván Ramírez Osorio · Rating 5 out of 5]

Tres novelas cortas diferentes y maravillosas a su manera. Personajes, construcción de personajes, añorables y detestables en simultáneo. En Benito Cereno se encuentra una historia confusa, que juega con quien la lee y lo mantiene a la expectativa. Una maravillosa construcción de lo expectativo, quiero decir. En Billy Budd se encuentra, quien lee el libro, con la historia de la injusticia y un debate filosófico sobre la envidia y la justicia. Maravilloso. Por último, en Bartleby se encuentra un precedente a los artistas de Kafka, el del trapecio y el del hambre, con un precedente a los espacios asfixiantes y grises que son frecuentes en las obras del checo. No puedo decir que haya sido una lectura fluida ¡no lo fue! Incluso, después de leer por primera vez a Melville, me lleno de temor al imaginar la tarea titánica que, imagino, es leer su obra máxima, Moby Dick. En cualquier caso, tres historias interesantes.

[Tempero · Rating 4 out of 5]

De vez em quando, sabe bem parar um bocadinho e ler alguma coisa mais rápida, com menos páginas - o tipo de leitura que se termina em poucas horas. Ora, este volume agrupa três pequenos contos de Herman Melville: Billy Budd, Bartleby e Benito Cereno.

Salta imediatamente à vista a semelhança dos seus nomes que começam todos pela letra B, o que pode não significar nada ou ser só a letra preferida do autor. Uma coisa é certa, Melville adorava histórias de marinheiros e piratas - não foi só o Moby Dick.

Em breves palavras, condenso então os meus pensamentos sobre cada uma destas histórias:

Billy Budd: 4,5
Billy Budd representa o marinheiro ideal - é obediente e trabalhador, é ingénuo e honesto - e também o ideal de marinheiro - é um exemplo para toda a tripulação, é como uma estátua grega (e tem aparência disso) que representa uma Ideia, com letra grande.
Há talvez alguns paralelos com a história de Cristo, na inocência com que cumpre a sua missão, na inveja que suscita em algumas chefias e na forma como, ao longo da história, se parece cada vez mais com um brinquedo nas mãos do Destino, no conflito entre a Lei e a Justiça.

Bartleby, o Escrivão: 3,5
Este pequeno conto foi a principal razão para eu comprar este livro. Tinha ouvido muitas coisas sobre ele (boas na sua maioria) e acho que me deixou um bocado desapontado agora que o li.
A história tem um humor gélido, que provoca um riso de incredulidade, desconfortável até. Bartleby diz "Preferia não o fazer." e percorre-nos um misto perplexidade e curiosidade, e réplica após réplica, a recusa e a desobediência da personagem nunca "explode", não "incendeia", torna-se apenas um pequeno incómodo, uma questão menor, até que não resta senão a lembrança de que um dia alguém disse que "não".
O mundo está preso por arames.

Benito Cereno: 4
Este último conto está completamente mergulhado na gíria náutica e pode ser um pouco chato aprender sobre popas e proas e os nomes das velas e dos mastros, mas depois desse sobressalto inicial, que gera alguma confusão, fica enfim um pequeno enigma que é o capitão Benito Cereno.
Nesta obra, Herman Melville, cria a cada página uma expectativa crescente a bordo do navio de Don Benito que ameaça transbordar a qualquer momento. A sensação de insegurança é palpável, mas o desfecho é imprevisível.

[Iván · Rating 5 out of 5]

Benito Cereno narra el encuentro del capitán Amasa Delano con la extraña tripulación de un barco que ronda la isla de Santa María. Delano pronto sospecha que el español Benito Cereno ha sido secuestrado por los esclavos negros que transporta. Un relato lúgubre, lleno de tensión, en el que Melville realiza el ejercicio de subvertir el rol que los personajes verdaderamente tuvieron en la trama, basándose en una historia real. Y si bien no podría considerarse un alegato antiesclavista, Melville parece dar testimonio de las consecuencias que el racismo tiene sobre una mente educada, incapacitándola a percatarse de lo evidente debido a sus propios prejuicios.

Billy Budd es la historia de un joven marinero enrolado forzosamente en un barco de guerra, y cuya belleza e inocencia despiertan la animadversión apasionada de su maestro de armas. Melville utiliza este relato, algo más extenso que los demás, para ofrecer reflexiones sobre la tensión entre el deber y la moral en un contexto bélico y naval. Al igual que en Benito Cereno, el autor deja en nuestras manos la tarea de juzgar los acontecimientos finales, que pueden comprenderse o bien como la denuncia de un arbitrio improcedente, o bien como la justificación de un mal tan amargo como necesario.

Bartleby, el escribiente quizá sea el relato más especial del volumen dada su singularidad temática: el copista de una oficina legal se niega a seguir las órdenes de su jefe. Considerado por muchos precedente de los cuentos kafkianos, yo le he encontrado similitudes con La vegetariana, de Han Kang, por la manera en la que sus dos protagonistas parecen ir perdiendo la voluntad de vivir, ejerciendo tal resistencia hacia el papel que les fue asignado en el mundo que acaban por dejar de ser humanos.

Melville es capaz de condensar en sus relatos aquello que potencia su novelística: un equilibrio entre la narración tradicional de historias al más puro estilo decimonónico con la introducción de elementos novedosos, avanzados para su época, plagados de simbología. Sus personajes rastrean obsesivamente lo absoluto, ya sea en forma de la verdad que subyace detrás de las apariencias o del imposible equilibro entre ley, costumbre y conciencia.

[Mehrdad · Rating 4 out of 5]

بالاخره بعد از مدتی طولانی، فرصت کردم بارتلبی محرر رو بخونم. این اولین چیزیه که از ملویل می‌خونم و پیش از این آشنایی چندانی با شیوه‌ی نوشتنش نداشتم.

به‌نظرم داستان کَشندگی و بَرندگی داره و خواننده رو در فراز و فرودش با خودش همراه می‌کنه. به‌نوعی، کمدی‌ سبک و بجایی هم داشت که من دوست داشتم.
کاراکتر بارتلبی چیزی از جنس معماست. مرموز و رازگونه است. هم می‌فهمی‌ش و هم نمی‌فهمی‌ش. اما شخصیت وکیل ساده‌تر و انسانی‌تره. دغدغه‌ها و نگرانی‌ها و عواطفش لمس‌کردنی و دردسترسه. هم دل‌سوزی و محبتش رو می‌شه فهمید، هم عصبانیت و دل‌واپسی‌هاش رو.

نقد‌هایی هم که مترجم در انتهای کتاب آورده، جالب بود. دو دریافت متفاوت از داستان را جلوی چشم خواننده می‌ذارن. برای من، نقد دوم پذیرفتنی‌تر بود و بیشتر باهاش همراه بودم.


و اما ترجمه.
نثر صالح حسینی خیلی متکلفه و به‌هیچ‌روی روان نیست. با انگلیسی اثر مقایسه نکردم و نمی‌دونم این تکلف از متن اصلی می‌آد یا ویژگی قلم حسینیه. البته من نسبت به صالح حسینی کمی بدبینم. (بخونید بدفازم)
نثر اداری(؟) این اثر، من رو یاد «بازمانده‌ی روز» ایشی‌گورو به ترجمه‌ی استاد نجف انداخت. البته به‌نظرم کار دریابندری از دو جهت متفاوته. یکی این‌که متن اصلی کتاب زبانی اداری/تعارفی/طبقاتی داشت و یکی این‌که در عین اداری‌ و تعارفی بودن، بسیار روان بود. ولی ترجمه‌ی حسینی پرتکلفه و مطمئن هم نیستم ناشی از متن اصلی باشه.
بااین‌حال، چند کلمه‌ی جدید هم از این ترجمه یاد گرفتم که خیلی کیف کردم.

[Joni · Rating 3 out of 5]

Benito Cereno es la historia de un barco a la deriva que es abordado por el capitan Amasa Delano (sic) que viendo la embarcación en problemas se acerca a ayudar y desde que aborda todo resulta sospechoso. Allí conoce al capitán Benito Cereno, un hombre muy desmejorado acompañado siempre por Babo, su fiel asistente, esclavo, compañero. La narración como tiene por costumbre Melville abunda en detalles marineros, hay mucha tensión en el relato como Amasa se perturba por la desconfianza de la escena, el relato colmado de claroscuros. Al final la angustia se extrema y tiene un desenlace previsible. Lo que más me incomodó de este relato es que como muchos de aquella época tiene muy estereotipado al negro, al subordinado, al incivilizado. Pasa mucho con Kipling, Haggard, hasta Verne volcaba esta visión la cual no termino de acostumbrarme a pesar de contextualizarla en su tiempo. Por eso no termino de disfrutar del todo relatos del estilo.
De Bartleby ya escribí hace un tiempo y me parece un relato abierto a muchas interpretaciones, es genial.
Billy Budd es otro relato marítimo, el último escrito por Melville siendo de publicación póstuma.
Muestra un autor distinto, apuntando a las desigualdades sociales, prejuicios, excesos de autoridad. Se me hizo un poco largo pero despierta la reflexión sobre condiciones sociales que se repiten aún hoy en día. Excelente!
Bajé un par de estrellas por lo xenófobo de Benito Cereno,, :P

[Isabella · Rating 1 out of 5]

Es corto, lo que le da puntos, porque no lo encontré tan bueno. Osea si era bueno, pero no me enloqueció. Puede ser que sea porque me lo dieron a leer en lenguaje y por eso no le di una buena oportunidad, pero definitivamente no se compara con ninguno de ACOTAR. Ni a la uña del pie le llega

[Mohammad · Rating 3 out of 5]

داستان عجیبی است( بارتلبی)
مسئله اش مایل به هیچ میلی نبودن است. به نظر ترجیح ذاتی انسان همین بوده است که امتناع کند.

[John Pistelli · Rating 5 out of 5]

[I am adding this Norton Critical Edition because I am using it in a class this semester; it contains "Bartleby, the Scrivener," Benito Cereno, and Billy Budd—which three short works, the editor informs us in his introduction, Melvilleans sometimes call "The Killer Bs." I have already written about "Bartleby" here and Billy Budd here, so I am going to use this review to say my piece about Benito Cereno.]

Benito Cereno is one of the post- Pierre short works of the 1850s by which Melville hoped to right the ship of his literary career. A novella of slavery, based on a true story, it is both an effective work of suspense and mystery and a remarkably intricate literary and political structure. Melville's protest—and protest it is—against slavery is written in code, a figure in the carpet. This technique was perhaps necessitated not only by proto-modernist artistic ambition but also by the crasser consideration that Melville's father-in-law, on whose largesse his family partially depended, was Lemuel Shaw, chief justice of the Massachusetts Supreme Court and enforcer of the Fugitive Slave Law (despite his own hostility to slavery). Even so, the novella, like "Bartleby" before it, is so thorough a critique of the politics of sentimentality, benevolence, Christian charity, Transcendentalist idealism, and the general smugness of the New England elite's liberalism, that I doubt Melville would have wanted to write an outright protest fiction on the Stowe model even had he felt freer to do so. Later generations of critics have in any case approved his choice to demur from explicit advocacy: the space for politics Melville leaves open in his elliptical narrative can only be filled, as I will explain, by the black insurgent rather than by the white philanthropist.

The novella's plot, simply stated, follows New Englander Captain Amasa Delano aboard a stranded Spanish slave ship off the coast of Chile. The scene on the ship is unsettling, even after captain and crew explain that they have suffered storm and fever. The titular character is the debilitated-seeming Don Benito Cereno, literally upheld by his apparently faithful enslaved body-servant, the diminutive Babo. Cereno's nervousness and reticence, along with the peculiar disposition of the ship's inhabitants—which includes a corps of black men sharpening hatchets amid a general restiveness among the white crew—arouses Delano's suspicion. In fact, most of the novella, narrated in third-person perspective with a rigorously maintained focalization through Delano's consciousness, is an oscillation between the New England captain's fears and his self-reassurances, an emotional wave motion miming the sea. Eventually, the truth is revealed: there was a mutiny of the enslaved on Cereno's ship, and Delano has been witnessing a carefully-staged pantomime masterminded by the chief of the rebels, Babo, whose constant attendance upon Cereno had been a technique to ensure the deposed captain's compliance. The story ends with Cereno's escape, the slaves' capture, and a legal deposition explaining the whole affair. The story, then, must be read twice, since its first three quarters or so make little sense without knowledge of the ending. Understanding is always retrospective, subsequent to the event.

Or is it? Perhaps it depends on who beholds the event. The novella's power comes in part from its viewpoint character's limitations of perspective. A remarkable opening visual description sets the story's tone:

The morning was one peculiar to that coast. Everything was mute and calm; everything gray. The sea, though undulated into long roods of swells, seemed fixed, and was sleeked at the surface like waved lead that has cooled and set in the smelter's mold. The sky seemed a gray surtout. Flights of troubled gray fowl, kith and kin with flights of troubled gray vapors among which they were mixed, skimmed low and fitfully over the waters, as swallows over meadows before storms. Shadows present, foreshadowing deeper shadows to come.

Yet Captain Delano, we are told in the very next paragraph, is intellectually ill-equipped to dwell in a world of ambiguity (gray, as against black and white), of shadow (which must be distinguished from substance), or of suffering (the passion evoked by "rood," a synonym for "crucifix" as a well as a unit of measurement). Delano is, locally, a caricature of the Transcendentalist with his privative definition of evil and his complacent idealism, and is also, more expansively, a satire on the self-satisfied meliorism of the liberal sensibility at large:

Considering the lawlessness and loneliness of the spot, and the sort of stories, at that day, associated with those seas, Captain Delano's surprise might have deepened into some uneasiness had he not been a person of a singularly undistrustful good nature, not liable, except on extraordinary and repeated excitement, and hardly then, to indulge in personal alarms, any way involving the imputation of malign evil in man. Whether, in view of what humanity is capable, such a trait implies, along with a benevolent heart, more than ordinary quickness and accuracy of intellectual perception, may be left to the wise to determine.

Delano is unable to see the reality in front of him because he looks out through a haze of erroneous expectation. To him, black people are naturally docile, and so Babo's exaggerated performance of servility seems scarcely remarkable:

As master and man stood before him, the black upholding the white, Captain Delano could not but bethink him of the beauty of that relationship which could present such a spectacle of fidelity on the one hand and confidence on the other.

Not to mention this:

When at ease with respect to exterior things, Captain Delano's nature was not only benign, but familiarly and humorously so. At home, he had often taken rare satisfaction in sitting in his door, watching some free man of color at his work or play. If on a voyage he chanced to have a black sailor, invariably he was on chatty, and half-gamesome terms with him. In fact, like most men of a good, blithe heart, Captain Delano took to Negroes, not philanthropically, but genially, just as other men to Newfoundland dogs.

Similarly, Delano sees only the decadent exhaustion of arbitrary authority in Latin Catholicism, an Old World relic, which serves for him to explain Cereno's apparent swings between command and collapse:

Upon gaining a less remote view, the ship, when made signally visible on the verge of the leaden-hued swells, with the shreds of fog here and there raggedly furring her, appeared like a whitewashed monastery after a thunder-storm, seen perched upon some dun cliff among the Pyrenees. But it was no purely fanciful resemblance which now, for a moment, almost led Captain Delano to think that nothing less than a ship-load of monks was before him. Peering over the bulwarks were what really seemed, in the hazy distance, throngs of dark cowls; while, fitfully revealed through the open port-holes, other dark moving figures were dimly descried, as of Black Friars pacing the cloisters.

Upon a still nigher approach, this appearance was modified, and the true character of the vessel was plain—a Spanish merchantman of the first class, carrying negro slaves, amongst other valuable freight, from one colonial port to another. A very large, and, in its time, a very fine vessel, such as in those days were at intervals encountered along that main; sometimes superseded Acapulco treasure-ships, or retired frigates of the Spanish king's navy, which, like superannuated Italian palaces, still, under a decline of masters, preserved signs of former state.

Yet in the story's Gothic atmosphere, its slave ship reminiscent of ruined abbeys and collapsing battlements, we may read a prophecy of America's own eventual decline, just as "Bartleby" describes a Wall Street as "deserted as Petra." When Cereno declares at the end of the story that "the negro" has cast a fatal shadow over him—in a passage that furnishes one of the epigraphs to Invisible Man—this sense of slavery as an ineradicable fault in the modern west, like the crack in the House of Usher, must be what he (or Melville) means to imply. Consider that the rebels have killed the slaveowner onboard the San Dominick and replaced a statue of Columbus as the ship's figurehead with the slaver's skeleton above the motto follow your leader. If the prophecy was opaque to Melville's audience, it should be clear to us.

I conclude with Babo. For when Delano sees black people as animals—

His attention had been drawn to a slumbering Negress, partly disclosed through the lace-work of some rigging, lying, with youthful limbs carelessly disposed, under the lee of the bulwarks, like a doe in the shade of a woodland rock. Sprawling at her lapped breasts was her wide-awake fawn, stark naked, its black little body half lifted from the deck, crosswise with its dam's; its hands, like two paws, clambering upon her; its mouth and nose ineffectually rooting to get at the mark; and meantime giving a vexatious half-grunt, blending with the composed snore of the Negress.

—it means that he cannot see them as political actors. But Babo, with his genius for staging public spectacle in the interests of his people, is what but a master of politics. The character scarcely speaks, and we gain no access to his consciousness. The story's last paragraphs portrays his execution:

Some months after, dragged to the gibbet at the tail of a mule, the black met his voiceless end. The body was burned to ashes; but for many days, the head, that hive of subtlety, fixed on a pole in the Plaza, met, unabashed, the gaze of the whites…

The key phrase is the remarkable "hive of subtlety." Granted that "hive" is dehumanizing, it also hints at capacity and activity, a many-voiced throng of consciousness. Its intimation of the insectoid prepares us for the next noun, which recalls the Lord of the Flies via Biblical and Miltonic allusion. Satan in his guise as serpent is the "subtlest beast of the field," we read in Book IX of Paradise Lost, wherein Milton reprises Genesis 3:1. The Romantic rebel Melville would almost certainly have taken the devil's part when he read Milton, whose Satan stood, thought Blake and Shelley, for the human considered as Promethean freedom fighter.

So too did Toussaint L'Ouverture, emblematic for the young, radical Wordsworth of "man's unconquerable mind." Norton editor Dan McCall notes the following in this edition: Captain Delano's narrative was a real document, but in adapting it for fiction Melville moved its date back from 1805 to 1799, into the decade of the Haitian Revolution, and changed the name of Cereno's ship to the San Dominick, calling to mind Saint-Domingue. C. L. R. James argues in an excerpt at the back of this Norton Critical Edition that "Babo is the most heroic character in Melville's fiction."

There is no inconsistency, then, in seeing Babo as both devil and hero, the story's veritable protagonist, when you consider the Romantic writer's transvaluation of values: "evil be thou my good," a defensible if controversial interpretation of what it would actually mean for the last to be first, for black to stand in the place of white. Come forward a century and Robert Hayden, in his "Middle Passage," provides the needed gloss on Melville's cryptic tale, when he precedes a slaver's bitter monologue on the Amistad rebellion with the following credo addressed to the whites whose gaze Babo might meet:

You cannot stare that hatred down
or chain the fear that stalks the watches
and breathes on you its fetid scorching breath;
cannot kill the deep immortal human wish,
the timeless will.

[Ema · Rating 4 out of 5]

Herman Melville tem a capacidade de contar uma história sem adoptar um ponto de vista, o seu intuito não é convencer-nos. Fornece ao leitor os factos, os pensamentos e as acções das personagens, mas é o leitor que tem de descortinar um sentido e, a partir daí, criar o seu próprio ponto de vista sobre a história. Adoro os autores que não mastigam a mensagem, mas que a fazem ser perceptíveis mesmo assim. Penso que posso dizer que o tema principal destas histórias é a alma e o comportamente humano, coisa tão vasta, mas tão difícil de bem recriar. Quanto à escrita, confirma-se o que vi em Moby Dick, irrepreensível, só um mestre é capaz de pegar nas experiências que viveu e transformá-las numa boa literatura.

Das histórias mais curtas do Sr. Herman Melville, Bartleby tem o meu coração, apesar de situar bem longe do mar. A história de um homem que preferia não fazer, que desiste um pouco todos os dias, do trabalho, de si, da vida, e é extremamente triste.

Billy Bud é o meu menos preferido, achei o texto mais intrincado de todos. Se bem que é neste que denoto uma maior facilidade em encontrar significados, é fácil discutir a capacidade do Homem para julgar e ser dono do conhecimento do bem e do mal, como se fosse dono da Verdade.

Benito Cereno, num ambiente estranho e cheio de indícios, deixa o leitor desconfortável, desconfiado e desejoso de torcer pelo lado certo. Diria que é uma história ambígua e até uma história que beira o terror. Com laivos de racismo, representado ideias da época ou mascarados por uma ténue veia abolocionista, aqui temos o homem contra o homem. Quem sai a ganhar ou quem sai a perder... fica a conclusão à escolha do leitor.

[dillon · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bartleby, Benito Cereno, and Billy Budd. First time reading the latter two. The first two are like perfect masterpieces, the last one is mostly inscrutable but with a thematic feeling like what he’s after is both impossible to find and also crucial. I think the unifying feature of these American renaissance lads, Melville, Hawthorne, and Poe, all of whom I’ve read very recently, is that they’re full of bizarre and subtle yet also overstated personal hang-ups, which makes for some wonderfully weird literature. As far as our American canon of classics goes, it could’ve been much worse.

[nora · Rating 4 out of 5]

Meantime the sound of the parted waters came more and more gurglingly and merrily in at the windows; as reproaching him for his dark spleen; as telling him that, sulk as he might, and go mad with it, nature cared not a jot; since, whose fault was it, pray?

[Kinsey · Rating 3 out of 5]

I feel like I should add the disclaimer that "Benito Cerano" was a required grad school reading. I wasn't a fan of Melville's descriptive plot style.

[Jude Hoekstra · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bartleby is great, though an odd entry in the Melville canon, turning his wit and insight and allegorizing towards the mundane world of office life rather than a romantic nautical setting. Benito Cereno is a rather artless and cliche suspense story that has none of the grandeur or nuance its premise deserved. Billy Budd is great.

[Jade (beauty.andherbooks) · Rating 3 out of 5]

Bartleby: 3⭐️
Billy Budd: 3.5 ⭐️
After reading Robinson Crusoe, the only way literature can go is up. Alas, one must descend into bad literature before ascending into good literature.

[Jacob · Rating 5 out of 5]

I think Herman Melville is my favorite writer. This book includes Melville's three most famous short stories: Bartleby the Scrivener, Benito Cereno and Billy Budd, Sailor. Each story is completely unique. There is so much depth in these stories, you can read and re-read them, always uncovering new allegories and allusions, symbolism and references. On their surface the stories are entertaining and the writing endlessly engaging.

I was thinking about what makes great literature great and I think a good criteria is to ask yourself: could this be adapted into a movie? With Melville's work the answer is clearly no. This is not a screenplay, there is little dialogue and most of the story takes place in contemplations and digressions in the mind of the narrator. When attempts are made to adapt great literature into movies they fail, like in 1956's Moby Dick adaptation. The best movies adapted from books are from poor books (ex. The Shining, There Will Be Blood, Jaws) or good screenplay novels (ex. Jackie Brown, L.A. Confidential, Maltese Falcon).

Anyways, Bartleby is a classic, I have read it before and it is wonderful. Funny and a great critique of capitalism's process of commodifying art and people, and the individual's futile attempt to resist it on his own.

I knew the least about Benito Cereno and was surprised that it reads like a horror novel or mystery for most of the story. The story is of a sea captain who finds a Spanish slave ship off the coast of South America and upon boarding the ship he receives a queer feeling that this place has become unmoored from reality, that everything happening onboard is an eerie façade. The sea captain is tormented by doubt and confusion of what is really going on: Is this a ghost ship, are these men pirates, are they trying to kill me? In the end it is revealed a mutiny has taken place and the slaves have overthrown and in some cases killed their Spanish masters and had been attempting to fool the sea captain that all was in order. It is a great critique of how ideology unconsciously shapes our reality, the thought of these slaves overthrowing the established order never crossed the mind of the captain even though it was a much more obvious explanation than pirates or ghosts. This story would probably stir up a lot of controversy in university because the morality is left fairly open and the slave leader is presented as a sadistic killer. Benito Cereno was written in 1855 so it is interesting to read in the context of the building racial tensions prior to the American Civil War.

Billy Budd is famous and I am excited to now watch Beau Travail, Claire Denis' adaptation of the story. If you thought Moby Dick was subtly gay, Billy Budd is very gay. Billy Budd is clearly an object of desire to all of the men onboard the British warship and there are countless references to his handsomeness, his statuesque body, his browned skin and charming personality. I won't get into the plot but the story touches on ideas of justice and law, innocence, jealousy, needless death in war. It was my least favorite of the stories because it felt very open ended to me and some of the chapters were very fragmented. I'm assuming this is because it was an unfinished work that was published decades after Melville's death.

Melville obviously was obsessed with ships and living on the sea and I was thinking a lot about how scary I would find living on a ship for a long period of time. The idea of mutiny comes up frequently in Benito Cereno and Billy Budd. Once you have left the rest of the world it seems it would be very easy for the rules and structures we have created for ourselves to fall away. The authorities on the ships are very concerned with hierarchy and discipline and it makes sense why. The sailing ship is a perfect microcosm of society. It lays out the class hierarchy very plainly for everyone to see, there is no obfuscation of your relationship to the system and where you stand in it. Melville goes back to this setting over and over because it is perfect for exploring complex ideas and simplifying them to bring about greater understanding.

[Zo · Rating 5 out of 5]

All three stories (Bartleby, Benito Cereno, and Billy Budd) are as good as any other 19th-century fiction as I've read, especially Bartleby and Billy Budd. The complexity with which Melville deals with questions of reliability, epistemology, truth/fiction, narrative form, interpretation, etc is mesmerizing, and it's hard to fathom how ahead of his time he was. In addition to these broader philosophical/meta-literary themes each story contains their own interesting ideas on work/modernity (Bartleby), slavery/ownership/power (Benito), and law/justice/authority (Billy). There also are fascinating cross-text themes about the role of silence, and I'm sure many other things I'm forgetting or didn't pick up on. Because the stories are so layered and rich with ideas they aren't "easy reading," but when in the right headspace they are stimulating like few other works, and when I allowed myself to get into the stories the unique mystery/oddity of them is magnetic. He's not my favorite prose stylist, but his style is singular, and creates some wonderful images. Definitely worth going back to and reading in the future.

[Ángel · Rating 4 out of 5]

Leyendo “Bartleby y compañía” de Enrique Vila-Matas me sumergí en el relato de Herman Melville que no había leído antes aunque lo tenía en casa de las lecturas de mi mujer.

Un curioso personaje el tal Bartleby, solitario, silencioso, abstraído contemplando la pared de ladrillo de la ventana del despacho de abogado en el que trabaja como escribiente. Un personaje aislado que se niega a cualquier requerimiento del abogado que lo emplea, con su frase recurrente de “preferiría no hacerlo”.

Tan curioso como el abogado, que es quien relata la historia en primera persona y a través de cuyos ojos conocemos lo poco que vamos a saber de Bartleby. Primero desconcertado y perplejo por la reacción de su empleado de dejar de hacer su trabajo, de negarse a responderle y luego sintiendo empatía y compasión por su situación. Y hasta mala conciencia.

Bartleby se convirtió en un arquetipo literario de la inacción, de “rebelde” (o más bien inadaptado) a las normas establecidas, por eso Vila-Matas utiliza el “síndrome de Bartleby” en su interesante libro de “notas a pie de página” sobre autores que dejaron de escribir o que no escribieron por diferentes motivos, los escritores del NO.

[Midwestern Gothic · Rating 5 out of 5]

THE GENIUS OF MELVILLE IS NOW MOST FIRMLY IMPRESSED UPON MY MIND

I bought 'Melville's Short Novels (Norton Critical Edition)' primarily for 'Bartleby' (which is a classic and a delight) and the accompanying articles of literary criticism pertaining to it (which are very informative, interesting, illuminating, and, most of all, thought-provoking). The book is worth the price just for that package. But I recently read 'Benito Cereno' and the accompanying articles of literary criticism pertaining to it in the same volume and not only was I equally impressed, but I was profoundly affected as well. The genius of Melville is now most firmly impressed upon my mind. Read in conjunction with the illuminating and thought-provoking articles of literary criticism on it included in the Norton Critical Edition, I can't help but think that 'Benito Cereno' must surely be one of the most brilliant novellas ever conceived and executed.

Reviewed: 'Benito Cereno' (1855) by Herman Melville and accompanying literary criticism in 'Melville's Short Novels (Norton Critical Edition)' (2001), edited by Dan McCall.

[Nurse85 Angélica · Rating 5 out of 5]

Buceando por la extensa biblioteca de mi marido encontré esta pequeña joya del siglo XIX.
Sirva de premisa a esta reseña que la literatura del siglo XIX es una de mis pasiones y me sumergí rápidamente en una ávida lectura de esta pequeña novelita o quizás debería decir cuento largo de casi 100 páginas.
Podría señalar la magnífica forma de escribir del autor de Moby Dick ( cierto que la traducción es de un genio como Borges). También debería destacar ese costumbrismo, ese realismo que desemboca sorprendentemente en algo histriónico, en esa magia del absurdo, en un relato hipnótico que recuerda a autores coetáneos como Poe o posteriores como Kafka o Camus…
Pero lo que voy a destacar por encima de todo es un escritor que sabe contar una historia y aunque pueda parecer un asunto baladí pocos tienen ese poder. Disfrutarás de esta narración página tras página hasta verte abocado a un final en mayúscula.

[Ricardo Martinez · Rating 3 out of 5]

“Bartleby, el escribiente” es un buen relato, a ratos excelente.
“Benito Cereno” me parece farragoso y cansino en su escritura. El conflicto se plantea bastante tarde, lo cual no seria un problema si todo lo que le precede fuera minimamente interesante, lo cual no es el caso.
“Billy Budd” es la joya de la corona. Melville narra prodigiosamente (aqui si) el relato con un profundo estudio de los tres personajes ( a pesar de la brevedad). Una espléndida novela corta que tuvo una magistral adaptacion en el film homonimo del gran Peter Ustinov, en el primer papel en cine del excelente y malogrado Terence Stamp.

[Sam · Rating 5 out of 5]

All three are amazing on their own, but when read in sequence they seem to enhance one another. Each explores motivations and purpose and how those two concepts interact with morality and belief. All are absurd in some way: Bartelby does not follow any one's orders, Benito Cereno has gone insane, Babo is curiously obedient, Billy Budd is pure, Claggart is impenetrable. Put them in a room high up above the streets or on a ship in the middle of the ocean. either is a world unto itself, but ones that we can measure our world against.

[M Bucos · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bartleby desepera por su caracter, pero al igual que en Benito las divagaciones que nos conducen por la trama son un prodigio que te enredan y zarandean provocando angustia y casi saltar para zarandear a los protagonistas e intervenir en la historia.

[Tom Elliott · Rating 4 out of 5]

Always good to be reminded of how world views have changed over time. And context is so important for better understanding what Melville was trying to do.