Occupy Johnny Cake Hill

From Chasing the White Whale, David Dowling's examination of the MDM:

...the all-night feature of the Moby-Dick Marathon reading functions not as an eccentric solipsistic dare so much as a way to collectively expose the cultural anxiety about the death of literature, the death of reading great works unabridged, sans Cliff's Notes, summaries, digital or online shortcuts of any sort. In this light, the New Bedford reading functions almost like a sit-in protest [emphasis mine] against the technological threat posed to the love of long, difficult literature and the patience, endurance, and long attention span it demands.

The death of literature, the erosion of human potential by technology; and our collective struggle against these forces... Here's that clip again:

How To Prepare for the All-Night Reading

What, if anything, can you do to stay alert for the entire 25-hour reading of Moby-Dick? Lemuel seems to have no problem staying focused for the whole show, while I start to flag around 4:00 AM and nod-off in my chair a couple of hours later. Chalk it up to age (mine), intelligence (his), or the fact that Lemuel arrives sober as the chief justice of the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court, while I less so.

A troll of the Web returns lots of suggestions from college kids who face all-night cram sessions: caffeine, B-vitamins, pumpin' music, occasional 10-minute naps (and bumming Ritalin from dorm-mates [not recommended by Lemuel or me]).

One article cites "chronobiologist" Cynthia LaJambe who, even after her studies at Walter Reed Army Institute of Research (WRAIR), can only advise "a short nap [less than 20 minutes] and a moderate amount of caffeine, like a cup of coffee, is still the best approach."

An article in The Guardian gives advice for cricket fans trying to go for days without sleep so they can watch The Ashes match series televised from Australia. They recommend: a high-protein meal beforehand, high-protein snacks during, no alcohol, no large doses of caffeine, vitamin B supplement afterwards.

One study holds particular promise for us Marathoners: "Sleep Extension Improves Performance and Facilitates Task Acquisition During and Following 7 Nights of Subsequent Sleep Restriction," by Dr. Tracy Rupp, also at WRAIR. Its findings were summarized by BBC News. The bottom line is: extra sleep each night of the week before the MDM will help you "perform" better, and recover faster. They call it "banking sleep." (Dr. Tracy also recommends naps.)

Here's my list of suggestions:

• Arrange local accommodations for Sunday night well before the MDM. (See Lemuel's post on sleep-deprived driving.)
• Come well-rested and well-fed. Try to "bank" some shut-eye the nights prior.
• Bring a copy of M-D with large type.
• Stay hydrated.
• Pace your intake of caffeine & sugar. Some folks use green tea for its reduced caffeine content -- bring your own (hot water is available).
• Take breaks in the snack room. You'll meet some interesting folks there.
• Step outside for some bracing January air and imagine Melville's arrival in New Bedford.
• Save the adult beverages for after the reading, if you're absolutely convinced that it will help.

The Moby-Dick Marathon in Its Psychical Aspect

Having described yesterday the outward manifestations of the New Bedford Whaling Museum's annual Moby-Dick marathon, I shall now proceed to examine the inner experience of a typical marathon participant, i.e., myself.

In his monograph Chasing the White Whale, David Dowling (lecturer in English at the University of Iowa) states that a marathon reading of Moby-Dick is equal parts heaven and hell.  While I wouldn't go so far as to say that the hellish part equals the heavenly, there are certainly significant highs and lows during the experience, if you attend the entire reading. 

The pre-reading events elicit festive emotions.  The attendees are happy to be gathered again to honor their favorite or most-admired novel.  On Saturday morning, the museum is filled with lighhearted buzzing, as the staff and volunteers finish their preparations, and the marathoners get themselves arranged for a taxing endeavor. 

The reading itself can be divided into five stages: the Pageant, the Long Stride, the Graveyard Shift, the Awakening, and the Final Push. 

The Pageant runs from the start of the reading, at noon on Saturday, to the return to the museum from the Seamen's Bethel, around 3 pm.  This stage involves the celebrated readers (the Mayor, the U.S. Representative, the National Tour Guide, the Museum Director, the Minister, the District Attorney, et al.) and the dramatic settings (the Lagoda Room and the Bethel).  The audience is large.  The chapters are among the most familiar and the most conventionally novelistic.  The marathoner is alert and attentive to the text.

The Long Stride takes us from mid-afternoon to 10 or 11 at night.  At this time, the initial euphoria has worn off, and the participants have settled in for some serious content.  We get large doses of philosophical Melville (Ch. XLII, "The Whiteness of the Whale"), scientific Melville (Ch. XXXII, "Cetology"), and Shakespearean Melville (Ch. XL, "Midnight, Forecastle").  Night falls as the summer soldiers, infants, and pensioners decamp one by one. 

The Graveyard Shift lasts until about 7 or 8 on Sunday morning.  This is when many marathoners grab some sleep.  But the die-hards remain at their stations, tending the Melville flame.  The gallery is perfectly quiet except for the reader's voice and the occasional whisperings of the "Watch Officers" who manage the process.  The marathoner watches the large windows for signs of dawn, pulling his coat about his shoulders as the cold creeps up from the stone floor.  Those who continue following the text are treated to Melville's best work.

The Awakening begins between 7 and 8 am and lasts for three or four hours.  The light outside and the reinforcement of the museum staff and volunteers (bringing some breakfast food with them) causes the sleepers to rise and tidy up their gear.   This is perhaps the most challenging stage, because distractions increase, while the text becomes more flamboyant and less amenable to public reading.  A night without sleep while drinking coffee and eating at random takes its toll.

The Final Push then brings the marathon to a close, at approximately 1 pm.  At this time, the crowd is as large as it was during the Pageant.  The readers, perhaps inspired more by John Huston than by Melville, become excited and demonstrative.  For the dedicated marathoner, there is a combination of the elation of having seen the whole thing through and the disappointment at not having been as attentive to the text as one could.  You stagger off, exhausted and grimy.

Should one stay or should one go...

This was my third New Bedford MDM, and the first time I permitted myself to skip out for a beer on Saturday afternoon and to leave before the closing chapters instead of fighting sleep to the "FINIS" line.

Sure it's a bit of a survival stunt to stay with the reading for the entire 25 hours. David Dowling ("Chasing the White Whale") compares the experience to running a road marathon. Unlike road racing, there's no way to train oneself to make "the punishment" less grueling. (...or is there? That's a subject for another post.)

If you commit yourself to the entire event, there are times when it feels like a depression-era dance marathon ("The blood would run out of their shoes," my mother recalled), with the knowledge that there are no cash prizes. And can anyone stay awake, much less concentrate on pithy prose for 25 straight hours? Still, as for the pack-filler at your local road marathon, there is some reward in terms of self-improvement, or "life experience", or bragging rights. (ROFL We should live in such a world.) Then there are moments when you feel like a member of a fading order of priests/priestesses, vainly attempting to preserve "The Word" yet another year against the tide of multi-tasking zombies. "We few, we happy few..."

...be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here, ...

Oh yeah, there's also the book. It ain't a "Classic" for nothing. There are worlds within worlds there. Each reading broadens my appreciation, highlights details I'd missed, and makes me marvel how a single book can affect so many people across so many cultures.

Anyway... not staying for the entire reading left me feeling incomplete, having missed the point, having abandoned my shipmates in their hour of crisis. Next year I'll be in for the whole book, spend less time taking photos, and take a turn at the podium.