Herman Melville

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In 1865, Melville gave his four young children back issues of Harper’s Magazine as Christmas presents. Harper and Brothers first worked with Herman Melville on his dubiously autobiographical novel Omoo: A Narrative of the South Seas (1847). The book was the sequel to his bestselling Typee: A Peep at Polynesian Life (1846), a fictionalization of his time on the whaling vessel Lucy Ann, which the Harper brothers had earlier rejected because “it was impossible that it could be true and therefore was without real value.” Melville’s first story for Harper’s Magazine appeared in the year-old periodical’s October 1851 issue; called “The Town-Ho’s Story,” it constitutes the fifty-fourth chapter of Moby-Dick, which was published a month later to critical revilement and commercial disinterest. In “The Town-Ho’s Story,” Ishmael recounts his shipboard adventures for “a lounging circle of my Spanish friends,” who doubt his honesty.

In the years immediately after the publication of Moby-Dick and the similarly received Pierre: or, The Ambiguities (1852), Melville supplied Harper’s with several more stories, three of which were about recovering from failure. Another was a euphemistic romp called “Cock-A-Doodle-Doo!” After the novel The Confidence-Man (1857) met with the usual scorn, Melville turned to poetry, publishing five poems about the Civil War in Harper’s in 1866. They were included in the collection Battle-Pieces and Other Aspects of the War (1866), the last non-self-published work in his lifetime. In 1890, Harper’s included the largely forgotten author in an article called “American Literary Comedians,” and in the following year’s December issue he received a two-line obituary: “September 27th.—In New York city, Herman Melville, aged seventy-three years.”

Melville received renewed attention following twentieth-century reconsiderations by D. H. Lawrence, Carl Van Doren, and Raymond Weaver, among others; the posthumous publication of his unfinished Billy Budd (1924), which Thomas Mann called “the most beautiful story in the world,” further propelled his revival. “Call me Ishmael” is today one of the most famous lines in English literature, and the Library of America has chosen Melville as one of the first eight writers it would publish. In 2010, paleontologists named a newly discovered twelve-million-year-old giant sperm whale Livyatan melvillei.

Wraparound — From the July 1975 issue

Wraparound

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Wraparound — From the May 1973 issue

Reports

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The laugh is on you

Poetry — From the July 1866 issue

Gettysburg

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–July, 1863

Poetry — From the June 1866 issue

Chattanooga

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Poetry — From the April 1866 issue

Philip

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Poetry — From the March 1866 issue

The Cumberland

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I first heard the name Barack Obama in the spring of 2004, while visiting my mother in Chicago. As we sat around the kitchen table early one spring morning, I noticed a handsome studio portrait among the pictures, lists, cards, and other totems of family life fastened to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the guy with the ears?” I asked, assuming he was some distant relative or family friend I didn’t know or else had forgotten. “Barack Obama,” she answered with a broad smile. “He’s running for Senate, but he’s going to be the first black president.”

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I first heard the name Barack Obama in the spring of 2004, while visiting my mother in Chicago. As we sat around the kitchen table early one spring morning, I noticed a handsome studio portrait among the pictures, lists, cards, and other totems of family life fastened to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the guy with the ears?” I asked, assuming he was some distant relative or family friend I didn’t know or else had forgotten. “Barack Obama,” she answered with a broad smile. “He’s running for Senate, but he’s going to be the first black president.”

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Itchy Nose·

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I first heard the name Barack Obama in the spring of 2004, while visiting my mother in Chicago. As we sat around the kitchen table early one spring morning, I noticed a handsome studio portrait among the pictures, lists, cards, and other totems of family life fastened to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the guy with the ears?” I asked, assuming he was some distant relative or family friend I didn’t know or else had forgotten. “Barack Obama,” she answered with a broad smile. “He’s running for Senate, but he’s going to be the first black president.”

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I first heard the name Barack Obama in the spring of 2004, while visiting my mother in Chicago. As we sat around the kitchen table early one spring morning, I noticed a handsome studio portrait among the pictures, lists, cards, and other totems of family life fastened to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the guy with the ears?” I asked, assuming he was some distant relative or family friend I didn’t know or else had forgotten. “Barack Obama,” she answered with a broad smile. “He’s running for Senate, but he’s going to be the first black president.”

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I first heard the name Barack Obama in the spring of 2004, while visiting my mother in Chicago. As we sat around the kitchen table early one spring morning, I noticed a handsome studio portrait among the pictures, lists, cards, and other totems of family life fastened to the refrigerator door. “Who’s the guy with the ears?” I asked, assuming he was some distant relative or family friend I didn’t know or else had forgotten. “Barack Obama,” she answered with a broad smile. “He’s running for Senate, but he’s going to be the first black president.”

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Chances that a body of water in Mexico is too contaminated to swim in:

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Sensory analysts created the perfect cheese sandwich.

Trump issued an executive memorandum expediting the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline, and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers issued the permits required to complete the project to Energy Transfer Partners, a company in which Trump once had a stake of as much as $1 million.

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"It is an interesting and somewhat macabre parlor game to play at a large gathering of one’s acquaintances: to speculate who in a showdown would go Nazi. By now, I think I know. I have gone through the experience many times—in Germany, in Austria, and in France. I have come to know the types: the born Nazis, the Nazis whom democracy itself has created, the certain-to-be fellow-travelers. And I also know those who never, under any conceivable circumstances, would become Nazis."

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