IF WINSLOW HOMER HAD ILLUSTRATED MOBY DICK (author's note: After the New York Times Book Review encouraged me to pursue this idea, I discovered that Winslow Homer was only 15 when Moby Dick was published. So I imagined a correspondence in which Melville politely responds to the overtures of an ambitious but talented teen-ager, hoping to make a name for himself by illustrating Moby Dick). Artist's Collection Dear Winslow Homer, As I said in my book, "The great Leviathan is that one creature in the world which must remain unpainted to the last." I am returning by separate post the charming picture that you sent me. It's true that I have just written a book about a great white whale, but I'm afraid I've left no role for an illustrator. Your talent and enterprise are astonishing in a 15-year-old boy, but perhaps more usefully expressed in a periodical that presents the latest fashions for ladies. "Moby-Dick" is, I hope, about many things. The most obvious for illustration would be the search for the whale and the violent encounter when the captain and the crew finally meet him. Your whale is about to make a terrible stink in your fashionable resort. Sperm whales (and this one could make a Jonah of Moby Dick) frequent waters at least 3,000 feet deep. The poor creature is stranded. Be a good fellow and draw some water for him, quickly! "Moby-Dick" is not a day at the beach. Sincerely yours, H. Melville Artist's Collection Dear Winslow, I know an obsession when I see one. If you persist in this you really should get to know the book -- I enclose an outline that may be useful. You will understand from it that it is not a boy's game and that piggybacking on a whale is a risky sport. Get out of Cambridge and go to New Bedford or Nantucket. See what are ships and the men who sail them. Read my chapters on the absurd attempts to depict whales; only the French seem to come close. For example, sperm whales have wrinkled backs. With all respect, yours looks like a great white watermelon. Yours very truly, H. Melville Artist's Collection Dear Winslow, Thar she blows! We'll make an old salt out of you yet. I like the sailor and the marvelous bell. Is it, perhaps, too marvelous? What I mean is does it distract just a jot from the significant apparition taking form behind it? I understand that from this distance one might not see that the whale is wrinkled or "marbleized," but I think you'll agree that he should be . . . how shall I say it -- WET! Wet, my lad, dripping, spraying, splashing, glistening, slippery wet. You can do it. You're improving by leaps and dives, but the task remains impossible. I don't expect to see the book illustrated in my lifetime. Perhaps you should consider just being a painter -- a noble calling. Be of good cheer. H. Melville Artist's Collection Dear Winslow, I wish to thank you for your last picture. Don't mistake me -- I envy your willingness to fail. I would like to keep this one, and in exchange I will send to you the first autographed copy of "Moby-Dick," plus the price of the painting. You have much with which to console yourself. You have given great pleasure to a weary author and even, I confess, given me pause -- did I let my emotions run wild at the end? Your solution offers much more ironic distance -- "give me the man who is not passion's slave"! The madness is hardly noticed by the crew of a passing vessel as they go about their reckoning -- admirable, and beyond my powers. More important, you have proved yourself an artist to be watched. If you have any doubts, just imagine your pictures without Moby Dick! Your friend, Call me Herman By Russell Connor Originally published: New York Times Book Review, Sunday, June 16, 1996 © 1996, The New York Times Company