MDMD(1): Taking to the Ship/Engine of Destruction

[ckaratnytsky]

     Beginnings and endings. 
     
     Rev'd Wicks describes the impetus for his sea voyage thusly: 
     
     "...It took me till I was lying among the Rats and Vermin, upon the 
     freezing edge of a Future invisible, to understand that my name had 
     never been my own,--rather belonging, all this time, to the 
     Authorities, who forbade me to change it or withhold it, as 'twere a 
     Ring upon the collar of a Beast, ever waiting for the lead to be 
     fasten'd on..."  10.2 - 10.7
     
     The Rev'd's existential agon here is in sharp contrast to the sassy 
     certainty manifest in the L.E.D.'s,  "I am a British Dog, Sir.  No one 
     owns me!," which is perhaps *part* of the reason for its introduction.  
     There is a deeper resonance, though, with the spleen of a certain 
     *nameless* other.  But, wait a minute...
     
     Wicks continues:
     
     "One of those moments Hindoos and Chinamen are ever said to be having, 
     entire loss of self, perfect union with All, sort of thing.  Strange 
     Lights, Fires, Voices indecipherable,--indeed, Children, this is the 
     part of the Tale where your old Uncle gets to go insane,--or, so, each 
     in his Interest, did it please ev'vryone to style me.  Sea voyages 
     being the Standard Treatment for Insanity, my Exile should commence 
     for the best Medical reasons."  10.7 - 10.13
     
     Briefly:  "Voices indecipherable" anticipates the Jenkin's ear episode.
     
     A-&:  "your old Uncle gets to go Insane"--hang on, hang on.
     
     Finally:
     
     "...I set sail upon an Engine of Destruction, in the hope that 
     Eastward yet might dwell something of peace and Godhead, which British 
     Civilization, in venturing Westward had left behind,--and thus was 
     consternation the least of my feelings, when instead of supernatural 
     guidance from Lamas old as time here came Jean Crapaud 
     alooming,--thirty four guns worth of disaster, and only one Lesson."  
     11.2 - 11.8
     
     There are two important things here.  Well, no, arrgh, there are a 
     multitude, of course, but there are two about which I can fumble.  The 
     first:  The "Engine of Destruction" is very, very important, I think.  
     It links the beginning of M&D, the *beginning* of Wick's journey, with 
     the end of Gravity's Rainbow, and the *end* of Gottfried's journey.  
     You can see where this leads, no?  Ka-Boom:  the Rocket is the Engine 
     of Destruction, of course, but, as Andrew rightly says, as GR is all 
     about death, M&D is all about life:  "peace and Godhead," yes?  I 
     don't have my GR handy here, but I will investigate this evening, and 
     follow up, don't worry.
     
     Secondly, is the "one Lesson."  I propose this, from _V._:  "...life's 
     single lesson:  that there is more accident to it than a man can ever 
     admit to in a lifetime and stay sane."  (Harper Perennial, 320-1)  Much 
     to be said here, too.
     
     Now, look, here's the thing you've been waiting for.  The beginning of that 
     other sea journey.  Shouldn't be a surprise:
     
     "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.  [...]  This 
     is my substitute for the 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."
     
     There is much to be said here, naturally, but the seraph of slavery, 
     Craig "Dithers" Bleakley, is standing over my shoulder, waving his cat 
     o'nine, and it's about time to change the tape in Mittelwerk's 
     Walkman, anyway.  Here's what leaps out:
     
     1.)  Ishmael's "never mind how long precisely" can be directed to the 
     confused chronology of Wicks' tale.  Yes, we are adrift a bit in 
     space-time, but, it doesn't matter, really, does it?  Where we are 
     going is *how* we get there, nix?
     
     2.) There's a good bit of work that can be done here with Ishmael's 
     self-diagnosed bit of madness, the reasons for Wicks' "Insanity," and 
     their consequent status as exiles.  And, I assume, redemption, at the 
     end.  I haven't finished the book yet, so all of this is flying blind.
     
     3.)  Again, as Ishmael's, Wicks' spiritual longings are the underpinning of 
     his journey--dare I say "quest"?   Yes, let's, and then I can mention 
     Herbert Stencil, Benny Profane and the opening of _V._  I'll be taking a 
     look there, at that beginning, too.  Note Ishmael's reference to Cato, and 
     Wicks' to Hindoos and Chinamen--the "Lamas old as time" to whom we look (in 
     vain?) for direction.
     
     Everything is connected.
     
     Bumstead Chris