Moby Dick wasn’t on my high school reading list, and I’m grateful.  At seventeen I never could have appreciated the novel about revenge, obsession, life and whales.

Today, I loved it, though I can’t recommend it.  Whole sections were a slog, parts were dull, others I couldn’t put down, images were beautiful, comments were poignant and powerful, passages were constantly contradictory, at times I’d reread a section four times not sure what the point was, but positive if I could figure it out, the passage would be filled with meaning.  Melville created moments and pictures that I hope I’ll remember for years.

But one part may have stood out more to me than most Moby Dick readers. It may prove that I am overly obsessed with fascia—the connective tissue that runs through our bodies like sausage casings around every muscle and organ.  That description is merely the tip of the iceberg.   There is so much more to fascia. Call me fascia-fixated.

About halfway through I started reading with renewed vigor when I realized Melville was unknowingly describing the connective tissue and fascia of a whale.  Actually, it shouldn’t come as a surprise because […]