Reading Moby Dick on a Bus

Since we have a lot of chapters to read every week sometimes I read while riding the bus to work. The bus I have to take goes from Beney Brak, through Ramat Gan to Tel Aviv. When I take the bus in Ramat Gan at least half and (sometimes more) of the passengers are Orthodox Jews. When I see somebody reading next to me, they are usually reading Psalms. If I'm lucky enough and there's room to sit, I take out my copy of Moby Dick and start reading. Some people stare, but honestly I sometimes try to sneak a peek at other people's book covers too.

I probably read at least half of the book in that fashion- on the bus while going to work or going back home. And the reason I enjoy it so much on some days and absolutely hate it on other days is because it takes an extra effort to immerse oneself into the novel's fictional world. Suddenly, the Hebrew I hear around me becomes an intrusion, other people's conversations make me take out my mp3 player and create audio-visual fortifications to barricade myself within the fictional world despite constant attacks from about. When in a mood of determined resolution to read, the endeavor is a success; Other days, the noise and the crowd get the best of me and I resign myself, sullenly, to the situation and look forward to the ride home. 

But sometimes the surroundings really help my imagination: It is easier to imagine a voyage at sea while moving through a changing scenery (which became monotonous for me since I always travel on the same route, kind of like an ocean) and also specifically when I read chapter 7- The Chapel- I couldn't help but imagine the sailors' wives and widows dressed the same way the Jewish women on the bus are dressed and when my imagination meshes everything into this cross-cultural, cross-lingual ridiculously fantastic image - I am slightly happier than before.

I really think that reading a novel in a second language (for me it's a third language, Russian being my mother tongue) requires a special effort because not everything is immediately accessible. The construction of meaning takes more time and is never direct. Before being able to form an understanding of a sentence in your head you need to temporarily silence the two foreigners who reside there. That's why sometimes you find yourself straying from the path into a different garden altogether. Other times you find yourself at the heart of a linguistic cross-road; listening to people speak Hebrew, talking to your mother on the phone in Russian while trying to cling to those sailors of the Pequod.    

Another thing I believe is unique to the bus-reading experience is that it has a time limit and while you are controlling the speed of your own reading, the speed of the bus is completely beyond your control. It depends on the driver, the traffic, the lights, there not being anything unexpected. Basically, life needs to move in a steady pace around you to give you enough time to hunt a white whale without having to be late for work and it never ever does. 

I guess можно רק to say c'est la vie!