“Thousands of American ships manned by tens of thousands of men killed hundreds of thousands of whales, which were processed into products and profits that in turn created great fortunes and spurred the formation and growth of the nation… American whale oil lit the world. It was used in the production of soap, textiles, leather, paints, and varnishes, and it lubricated the tools and machines that drove the Industrial Revolution. The baleen cut from the mouths of whales shaped the course of feminine fashion by putting the hoop in hooped skirts and giving form to stomach-tightening and chest-crushing corsets. Spermaceti, the waxy substance from the heads of sperm whales, produced the brightest-and-cleanest-burning candles the world has ever known, while ambergris, a byproduct of irrigation in a sperm whale’s bowel, gave perfumes great staying power and was worth its weight in gold… The heroic and often tragic stories of American whalemen were renowned. They sailed the world’s oceans and brought back tales filled with bravery, perseverance, and survival. They mutinied, murdered, rioted, deserted, drank, sang, spun yarns, scrimshawed, and recorded their musings and observations in journals and letters… ‘To produce a mighty book, you must choose a mighty theme,’ proclaimed Herman Melville, and the epic story of whaling is one of the mightiest themes in American history…”
- Eric Jay Dolin, Leviathan: The History of Whaling in America
Shortly after graduating law school and starting my first job, I decided to pick up Herman Melville’s Moby Dick, often proclaimed the premiere novel in American history. It might seem odd – after twenty straight years of school – to celebrate my academic independence with a massive tome written in the Old Testament style, but I thought it a sign of my delayed entrance into adulthood. After so much time spent skimming textbooks and searching for online summaries of classic novels, I was going to read one on my own volition, for the sake of nothing other than my intellectual betterment.
Well, I ended up hating the damn thing from just about the second page onward. It became a chore. The only way I got through it was to force myself to read twenty pages a day at lunch, thereby ruining my midday meal and gaining me an office reputation as the weirdo reading Melville at his desk.
When I finally finished, I swore off Melville for all eternity.
Of whales, though, I maintained an interest.
***
I’m still surprised at how much I disliked Moby Dick, given how much I theoretically appreciated its component parts. Among the things I love in life are ships, oceans, vengeful animals, men under duress, and sea stories. Thus, when Eric Jay Dolin's Leviathan came around, I picked it up with a bit of eagerness. Having finished, I would say that my fondest hopes were not entirely met, but this was a heck of a lot better than hanging out with Ishmael, Starbuck, and Stub for many hundreds of pages.
***
Leviathan takes a chronological approach to its sweeping subject, starting in the 1600s and ending in 1924. The material is divided into three big sections, detailing American whaling’s rise, apogee, and descent.
Dolin is an engaging writer, and he is an explainer, so that there are tons of interesting factoids and stories with which to wow your spouse, friends, kids, or the guy at the end of the bar. He shows himself at ease tackling subjects as varied as whale biology (with a side-focus on whale penises), types of harpoons, industry economics, and the gory, step-by-step processing of captured whales. There are even annotated endnotes, if you want deeper discussions.
The book's scope encompasses many decades. However, because whaling is an industry, rather than a single historical event – or even a series of historical events – the nature of Leviathan is rather anecdotal. Though each time period is discrete and unique in terms of economic climate (whalers did well in peace, and poor in war) and utilized technologies, the template is always the same: dozens of stories stitched together with background information. There are stories about successful hunts, and unsuccessful hunts; there are stories about rampaging whales and shipwrecks; there are ships stuck in the ice and mutinies at sea. It turns out that a lot can go wrong when you hop in a ship and go chasing after some of the largest creatures on earth.
Though it’s a personal preference, I've always kind of liked anecdotal books. But as Steve Martin reminds us in Planes, Trains, and Automobiles: “You know, everything is not an anecdote. You have to discriminate.” There is a certain hit-and-miss quality here. When the stories land flat, or seem off topic, things drag. When the stories are crisp, exciting, on-point, and involve mutineers taking their whaleboats and attempting to escape into the Australian Outback, the pages just fly.
At the risk of belaboring the point, I’ll give just one example. During the chapter on whaling during the Civil War, Dolan focuses entirely on two Confederate raiders wreaking havoc on the American whaling fleet. For me, this was a low-key yawn that I thought took a valid point – the damage done to the whaling fleet – and used it as an excuse for some gratuitous naval warfare that is told, oddly enough, from the point of view of the Confederates. Others, though, might find this the most exciting and edifying stretch of Leviathan.
***
A book like Leviathan always runs the risk of overselling itself. Initially, I thought Dolan would do just that, giving whaling a preeminence in American history that it probably does not deserve. Fortunately, he mostly avoids pegging the rise of the United States to the fortunes of a single, aggressively unique area of commerce. Rather than making an argument or proving a thesis, Dolan sticks to the vicarious, exciting, man-against-nature aspects, rather than trying to convince me that stabbing whales to drain them of their precious oils was the hinge of human events.
***
One of the big surprises in Leviathan is what it does not include. Not only does he ignore the controversies of modern whaling – which is admittedly outside his established scope – but Dolan also refuses any critical analysis of yesteryear. It seems there is something to be said, some connection to be drawn to the present day, about the use of poorly-paid whalemen risking their very lives at the behest of giant corporate trusts who practically denuded the seas of an entire species in order to reap a fantastic profit. Dolan, though, does not venture into that territory.
***
There are times when I have thought about returning to Moby Dick, to give it another chance. Ultimately, though, life is too short to force myself to endure something I really hated the first go-round. Even if I end up liking it, rather than despising the soul of its existence, it’s a waste of precious reading time. To that end, Leviathan is a good substitute, giving you the substance of Melville’s opus in about half the space and none of the obscure references.