Book after book, genre after genre, century after century, tales of animals seemingly "turning against" man is considered unfathomable; at once scary, un-Godly, un-natural, and - to us - completely unprovoked. Take the year 2012 in which James Patterson's Zoo was published. A relentlessly stupid, over-dramatic story so obviously written to appease the warped minds of TV producers and directors that the point of the story was completely lost: humans are not just mere spectators in this melting pot of ecosystems.
Almost 200 years earlier, the disaster of the whaling ship The Essex follows a similar pattern and familiar theme; both books - one fiction, one non - leaves us with the ever-burning question of if and when animals will finally turn against man for real.
While Nathaniel Philbrick doesn't outwardly explore this particular theme in In the Heart of the Sea, choosing instead to focus ,,more on the intricacies of nineteenth century sailing and whaling more than anything else, it can't be ignored by the avid reader, especially since most of the whaling industry was fueled by ego, machismo, and the supposed ultimate dominion over the world. Philbrick expertly articulates this idea in his book, but perhaps a little too well.
In shockingly few pages, Philbrick relays a sea of information that is at times helpful but mostly confusing, speaking as if the reader already has a working knowledge of Northeastern shipping, whaling, and societal culture. He, however, does an admiral job of linking information he previously mentioned to what is currently happening in the story, and any conflicting accounts and fictional tales; Moby Dick makes several appearances as a point of reference and almost as proof to his tale.
Aside from what those of us who have never been whaling find confusing, In the Heart of the Sea is a captivating story of the lengths people go to to line their pockets.
While the book does make central the animalistic instinct of survival, it's hard to miss the underlying point that man wouldn't find themselves seeking revenge on giant whales (both metaphorical and literal) had they not put themselves in those very positions in the first place; and for little else than a chance at a paycheck. And although seeking wealth is taboo among many major religions, Philbrick subtly points out through his story that our interest in defeating nature as a means to wealth perhaps stems from our need for spiritual guidance, with many sects preaching man's superiority and rule over Earth as a right and truth. Such is the case here in regards to the Quakerism practiced among many a whaler. And oftentimes as a result of oppression in the name of this religion, ego and suppressed rage took over in an almost sub-human form. Given that, it's hard to come away from the book viewing these whalers as anything resembling heroes, especially as Philbrick dissected the always-taboo subject of cannibalism.
Although not the first documented case of the practice, and certainly not the last, Philbrick carefully, if not a tad gruesomely, attacks the issue of cannibalism by highlighting that eating one's fellow human does little to alleviate death or even hunger, especially in terms of the mind. Philbrick points out that fear of cannibals is what kept the survivors from uncharted islands, contributing to their almost pointless and futile drift around the Pacific Ocean, but doesn't go so far as to point out the hypocrisy of their decision to eat human flesh, skirting the issue by focusing instead on their struggle with the mere idea then ultimate execution.
But all of that aside, In the Heart of the Sea serves little as a warning and more just adds to the depths of whaling lore. Known as the "Titanic of it's day," the very idea that a Titanic II is well under way proves we have learned nothing. Philbrick's story of a time centuries before - and Patterson's tale of a time centuries later - proves we never will.
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