Reviewed by: Living Philosophy in Kierkegaard, Melville, and Others: Intersections of Literature, Philosophy, and Religion by Edward F. Mooney Steven Knepper Edward F. Mooney Living Philosophy in Kierkegaard, Melville, and Others: Intersections of Literature, Philosophy, and Religion New York: Bloomsbury Academic, 2020. xiii+ 186 pp. Before turning to Edward Mooney's reading of Moby-Dick in Living Philosophy in Kierkegaard, Melville, and Others, it is helpful to know something about the twentieth-century American philosopher Henry Bugbee. Mooney is Bugbee's literary executor, and he has done much to preserve Bugbee's legacy and to keep his work in print. Bugbee's early attempts to show the philosophical significance of Moby-Dick, themselves deserving of more attention, influenced Mooney's own approach to life, philosophy, and Melville's magnum opus. When Bugbee arrived at Harvard in 1948, he was asked to give a talk to graduate students and faculty. He began his talk by reading from "The Line" chapter of Moby-Dick. This was an unorthodox move at the time, and it likely did not help the junior professor's Ivy League career. The more literary and religious pragmatism of William James and William Ernest Hocking had faded away in Harvard's philosophy department. Positivism was ascendant. Though liked by his colleagues, Bugbee would not receive tenure. He went on to a long career at the University of Montana, however, and in 1958 he published a remarkable work of philosophy in journal form titled The Inward Morning. It offers a homegrown existentialism with roots not only in Zen Buddhism and European thought but also in Emerson, Thoreau, and Melville—the United States' own proto-existentialists. At one point in The Inward Morning, Bugbee wonders, "How much of Moby Dick is Melville's heeding of the voice out of the whirlwind in the Book of Job? In both it is the meaning of the independent thing which seems to emerge, and the presence of the thing is the cleansing of man" (Bugbee, Jr., Henry G. The Inward Morning: A Philosophical Exploration in Journal Form. New York: Harper Colophon Books, 1976. p. 226). Leviathan, in both Melville's novel and the Book of Job, chastens our claims to mastery. As a naval veteran of the Second World War and an avid angler, Bugbee knew [End Page 125] something about water reveries, about what Moby-Dick's first chapter calls "the ungraspable phantom of life" whose image one can glimpse—but only glimpse—"in all rivers and oceans." Edward Mooney, like Bugbee, philosophizes in the first person, in a style often episodic and at times epiphanic. He, too, draws inspiration from existentialists on the one hand and Emerson and Thoreau on the other. He writes about existential concerns such as reverence, wonder, gratitude, fear, relationships, and solitude. It is unsurprising, then, that Mooney, who is professor emeritus in philosophy and religion at Syracuse University, would eventually offer his own reflections on Melville. Living Philosophy gathers and revises several of Mooney's recent lectures and essays, including one on Moby-Dick that first appeared in Corey McCall and Tom Nurmi's excellent 2017 collection, Melville among the Philosophers. In Living Philosophy that essay is reworked into two chapters on Melville. Mooney offers many of his own insights and reveries, but his general approach to Melville's novel recalls Bugbee's. Moby-Dick is about the mystery of nature and life, epitomized by the sea. A scientific approach (a cetology, say) can uncover much useful and fascinating information (though it can also facilitate instrumentalism, reducing whales to barrels of oil, for instance). Such an approach, however, cannot reach the deepest mysteries: How should we live? How should we live together? Why is there something rather than nothing? How do we respond to evil? How do we respond to beauty? "The meaning of the white whale or divinity," Mooney explains, "of love and comradery, of demonic powers of hatred, are elusive" (44). The mystery that underlies these questions and topics draws us to the water, but it only ever yields brief soundings. As Mooney says, it gives us partial, fragmentary "glimpses of truth" (47). Ultimately, the mystery is not something to be solved or dissolved but...
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