"The Piazza Tales" by Herman Melville: I know what you're thinking, "Why would Herman Melville write a book about an aging catcher who can't throw?" No, no, no, he's talking about a different kind of Piazza. You know, the kind you sit on, not run on.

Anyway, it's worth noting that Melville (1819-1891), now legendary as the author of "Moby-Dick," struggled to sustain any semblance of literary success back in the day. After achieving initial public acclaim with "Typee" (1846) and "Omoo" (1847), which were fictionalized accounts of his experiences as a sailor in the South Seas, Melville endured a string of critical and commercial failures, including "Moby-Dick" (1851). In fact, the tale of the white whale, often considered the greatest American novel, only sold about 3000 copies during its author's lifetime. In a constant struggle to provide for his family, Melville's literary career all but ended by the early 1860s when he was forced to take a post as a New York City customs inspector, a position he held for nearly 20 years. Meanwhile, Stephen King can probably afford solid gold hookers. Who says life isn't fair?

"The Piazza Tales" (1856) is a collection of six short stories, five of which were previously published in Putnam's Monthly Magazine between 1853 and 1855. Keep in mind, this was at a time when Melville's career was floundering, and his views of society and life in general were undergoing a significant change, causing some to fear for his sanity. It's like I had a twin.

The book's first tale, and the only one written specifically for the assemblage, is the appropriately titled "The Piazza." Narrated in the first person, Melville tells of his desire to add a piazza, or porch, to his Massachusetts farm house, enabling him to sit comfortably outdoors and appreciate the wondrous beauty of the surrounding mountains. Not long after the piazza is completed, and Melville is able to bear glorious witness to nature, he spies a small glimmering patch of color on a distant mountain. Months pass, but the tiny golden window of radiance remains. What sort of magical thing could it be? Curiosity finally getting the better of him, Melville sets out to travel to the spot, wanting to see with his own eyes the secret of its enchantment. What he finds is a clever exploration of truth versus illusion, made all the more profound for its simplicity.

"Benito Cereno" tackles the hateful condition of slavery, which was still very much part of American life at the time of its writing. Set in 1799, the story centers around the efforts of Captain Amasa Delano, an American commander of a sealer/trader, attempting to help a disabled Spanish slave ship off the coast of Chile. Upon reaching the weary vessel, Captain Delano finds its inhabitants, consisting of a handful of Spanish sailors and some 150 African slaves, in desperate need of water and fresh supplies. The ship's captain, Benito Cereno, is a horribly dissipated young man, obviously suffering the effects of a harsh journey beset with calamitous weather and debilitating disease. Lost at sea for some 190 days, nearly half the ship's population had perished either from drowning or scurvy. Cereno himself would barely be able to stand without the assistance of his faithful slave, Babo, who supports his master's every step while keeping a nurse's vigilance over his sagging health. But Captain Delano's mission of mercy suddenly begins to take on a sinister aspect. Is the suffering ship and its sickly captain truly what they appear to be? Or has Delano foolishly fallen prey to a pirate's trap?

A magnificent piece of craftsmanship, Melville's deft use of language and pacing establishes an ominous atmosphere of suspense worthy of Alfred Hitchcock. Clues to the tale's eventual conclusion are sprinkled throughout, awarding the attentive reader. Although, the social attitudes of the times, in which slaves were seen as less than human, assisted in Melville's manipulation, allowing him to direct attention away from his true destination. While most modern readers should hopefully be able to immediately appraise the situation facing Captain Delano, it still doesn't take away from the story's enjoyment.

At first glance, one can imagine how "Benito Cereno" could be mistaken for being almost pro- slavery. Captain Delano's own racist sentiments, once again expressed more with the casual ease of the times than any malice, are pivotal in setting the stage for the dramatic conclusion. Melville's true sentiments, and the sincere intentions of the piece, are contained within a conversation near the end of the tale between Captain Delano and Benito Cereno regarding the nature of man.

The shortest of the tales is "The Lightning-Rod Man," which is a humorous account of a traveling salesman trying to peddle his very own lightning rods in the midst of a terrific storm. The enterprising entrepreneur plants himself in the middle of his next potential client's living room, pleading with his host to join him without delay since he declares it the safest place in the house to stand during such a terrifying electrical display. What follows is a clever little discourse on man's folly to combat the will of God.

"The Encantadas; or, Enchanted Islands" is a grouping of 10 sketches concerning the Galapagos Islands, illustrating the duality of nature and man, and further exploring the concept of truth versus illusion.

The idea of man's quest to become God, through the pursuit of science and technology, is at the center of "The Bell-Tower," as an obsessed artisan's determination to duplicate life in his celebrated bell tower proves the undoing of both himself and his creation.

And that brings us to "Bartleby," the second story in the book but the first in my heart. The narrator, an elderly lawyer, begins to tell the tale of Bartleby, the most peculiar man he's ever met. With his three office clerks already taxed to the limit, the narrator decides to hire a new scrivener, which was the fancy term for copyist. Before there were computers and Xerox machines, there were scriveners. His quest for a new man leads to Bartleby, a neat, polite, respectable young fellow, despite a sad, forlorn air that seems to pervade his entire being. Perhaps owing to some charitable sense of pity, the narrator hires Bartleby on the spot.

And at first the decision proves prudent, as Bartleby is a tireless copier, quietly going about his business without the slightest complaint. Then one day the narrator asks Bartleby to read over a legal copy for accuracy, which is a common duty of a scrivener, and his employee calmly replies, "I would prefer not to." Shocked at the apparent insubordination, the narrator repeats his request and receives the same answer from Bartleby: "I would prefer not to."

Under ordinary circumstances, the narrator would have discharged any employee who dared to refuse the requirements of his particular position. But there was something about Bartleby, quiet, gentle, pitiable Bartleby, that made his dismissal impossible. His reply, "I would prefer not to," was so polite and unassuming, he only further endeared himself to the narrator. Nothing more was said of the matter.

A few days later, another opportunity for the comparison of legal copies presents itself, and Bartleby once again declines, saying, "I would prefer not to." Things escalate from there, with Bartleby greeting all future requests, whether related to the performance of his job or otherwise, with the same emotionless refrain: "I would prefer not to."

Okay, I'm not going to describe the plot any further for fear of ruining it, but rest assured, this is an amazing short story. It's funny, clever, and significant, as Bartleby's resigned approach to life, quietly refusing to do anything, is positively dripping with existential angst. It's simply sensational. I can't recommend it highly enough. Bartleby could very well be my favorite character in all of literature, and the story itself has few peers. My only complaint is that in the last paragraph Melville offers a possible explanation for Bartleby's unique behavior, basically dumbing it down for those incapable of thinking on their own. This is completely unnecessary and is the only thing keeping it from blissful perfection. If you haven't experienced it yet, I implore you, you must read it immediately! Like, right now! Go!

"The Piazza Tales" was my first experience with Melville. I can see how he had trouble finding an audience. His style isn't always reader friendly, often plagued with frequent stops and starts. He wasn't scared to bust out the commas. He can also be a bit too wordy for my particular tastes, particularly in certain portions of "The Encantadas" and "The Bell-Tower." But "The Piazza" is a subtly powerful story, and "Benito Cereno" and "The Lightning-Rod Man" are both rock solid. Of course, the rest of the book could have been nothing but blank pages and it would have still received four shots on the strength of "Bartleby" alone. All hail Bartleby. Bartleby is king.

RATING:

(NOTE: "The Pizza Tales," and other works by Herman Melville, can be found at the indispensable Project Gutenberg.)