Billy Budd was a recommendation courtesy of  BBC4′s  ”A Good Read.”  It is not a book of which I had any awareness, and certainly not one for which I would have sought.

Of the nine or eleven short stories (trust me, this is an accurate description) “Billy Budd, Foretopman” is the longest, and last.  But I read it first.  Naturally.

Haunted and taunted by memories of a certain large whale, of whom we shall endeavour not to speak, it took a little while before I was able to warm to either Melville or the story.  The vocabulary is obscure and sometimes archaic, sentences lengthy and complex.  The first few pages I must have read three or four times in order to ascertain which parts were “the story” and which digression.

Several chapters later, thoughts of long and rambling discourse, regarding diverse species of whales, were evoked by the phrase “a literary sin the divergence will be.”  And so, I thought, it begins…

But, in actuality, Melville’s self-confessed digression was pithy (relatively) and interesting, and the spectre of that whale, whose name may not be spoken, began to disperse.

“Billy Budd, Foretopman” is a nautical tale, set immediately following the Spithead and Nore mutinees of 1797.  Billy Budd, our hero, is a foretopman impressed from a merchant ship, fittingly named “Rights-of-Man,” into the brutality of the naval service.

Having heard the book reviewed, I was already familiar with the ending and, although the tale builds almost inevitably towards its conclusion, I think I would have preferred to have let the story unfold without the dubious benefit of precognition.  I will attempt to not likewise trumpet the conclusion prematurely.

The plot is slender, but the detail and layering are intricate and absorbing.  A Tom Clancy-like approach to naval procedure and politics serves to hold together what is otherwise a discourse on human relationships, justice as defined by society, and a profoundly depressing commentary on the nature of good and evil.

Melville gives substance to all his characters; their personalities observed and rendered in such a way that it was painfully obvious how they would ultimately fit together, and with what result.  (Of course, I already knew the ending; but would I have seen it otherwise? I like to think so.)

He also sets forth a philosophy on the nature of evil (by his definition, malignancy with intent but lacking motivation) and the nature of good, which is grimly shown to be passive by nature.  Rather depressingly, we see that good and evil are by no means equal and opposite…

In the same spirit, I also thought to perceive some strong new testament parallels; sacrificial lambs, temptation, etc, with obvious representations of all the main players.  But I never came to a satisfactory conclusion regarding Melville’s stance vis a vis religion.  Glorification or condemnation?

From the very beginning of Billy’s impressment we are subjected to the sanctioned violence and claustrophobia of life on board an 18th century warship, fractally anticipating future events.  Melville’s passionate and heart-breaking exploration of the dangers of a socially engineered system of justice is moving and utterly convincing.  As  Melville illustrates man’s natural instruments of justice, namely heart and conscience, we see them relentlessly subsumed by the merciless machinery of a self-imposed, man-made legislation.

I enjoyed the Billy Budd story so much that reading the remainder of the book became almost a matter for debate, fearing an anti-climax.  As it turns out, Billy Budd remains my favourite, by reason of its accessibility.  The other stories may well be better, but I am not in a strong position to judge, largely unable to grasp the obviously present yet elusive symbolism.

• Bartleby the Scrivener:  A strange balance of comedy and pathos.  Failed to translate the symbolism, but enjoyed it nonetheless.
• I and my Chimney:  A completely bizarre tale of a man… and his chimney.  Again, can’t imagine you would write about a chimney unless it was indicative of some larger concern.  Only the vaguest inklings as to possible interpretation.
• Benito Cereno:  A (comparatively) easier read, comparable with Billy Budd.  A mystery story, with elements of gothic horror, and a subtle condemnation of the slave trade almost lost beneath the apparent racism.  Also revisiting the themes of Billy Budd, with an illustration of how evil may be opposed.  (And it isn’t through saintliness.)

Although the stories are wildly diverse, a common theme is Melville’s philanthropy and at times barely curbed anger and despair at man’s inhumanity to man.

I am tempted to go on an internet binge, in order to wallow in unambiguous interpretation, but that would remove a lot of the potential pleasure to be derived from a future perusal and so, for the present, I resist…