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I believe that great writing stands the test of time. Shakespeare, while not an easy read for most in this age, still can be seen as not only great in idea but in execution.

But for any book their is an audience. I think my main complaint with Moby Dick is like that the author of this article. I think it is held up to be more than it truly is. I like the story very much, but the writing leaves me cold.

Reading Moby Dick was almost like reading two books at the same time. It was as though Melville wrote a book about a man aboard a whaling vessel, chasing the white whale that had taken the leg of the singleminded Captain Ahab; and another containing all the factua concerning whaling - the species, methods of tracking and hunting whales, etc. One book was fiction, the other nonfiction. Then he took the books like two decks of cards and shuffled them together to make one larger book.

I'll probably read it again someday, and if I do I'll consider skipping the passages that are nonfiction. As for the fiction, Moby Dick contains what must be one of the finest opening paragraphs in all of fiction:

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.