Of all the Art of the Novella titles, this is the one I have read the most times. It is hard to describe my affinity for this odd little story. As a 19th century Americanist, I can tell you many things about it, a host of theories as to the meaning of the oft repeated line "I prefer not to." The Christ symbolism, the possibility that Bartleby's unwillingness to engage is a direct reflection of the author's state of mind as literary success continued to elude him. Or the whole leper thing that I have always hated and dismissed as a stretch. But the real appeal for me is defined by the willingness with which we all echo that much-repeated famous line, the inability of those around Bartleby to avoid letting the words slip naturally into their own speech. We all seem to understand something difficult to articulate.
Now for those of you new to Bartleby, it is the story of a young scrivener, a man who copies text all day to the best of his ability, in the neatest hand possible. He creates nothing except a copy of another man's work. Bartleby is newly employed by a small firm on Wall Street and his natural reserve and excellent work impress his new employer who narrates the story. But all of a sudden he refuses to examine the work done with the others although he continues to write behind a screen at a window with no view. Then he refuses to write anymore. Then he refuses to leave the firm as he has moved into the office. And even after his mystified employer finds a new office to move to, Bartleby will not leave the old one prompting complaints from the new tenant. His fate cannot be a happy one.
In some ways, the story is more about the narrator than Bartleby. The young scrivener's passive resistance elicits a strange and passionate, some would say homoerotic, reaction from his employer. When near the end, in one last attempt to reach Bartleby, the narrator says to him, "Either you must do something, or something must be done to you," the impossibility of the situation is very moving. As a reflection of American identity it is also disturbing that the notion of merely existing outside the constantly moving and evolving renders one of no value. The narrator sees the beauty of this soul, does not want to "quit him," but ultimately is rendered immobile by his adherence to his before mentioned belief that the easiest way of life is best.
My favorite Melville (although do not discount my love for Moby Dick) and a pleasure to re-read it on Mr. Melville's birthday. Although I cannot imagine enjoying a raucous celebration with the crusty one.
In honor of this read, I enjoyed the Spanish red pictured below because fresh off the second volume of Your Face Tomorrow, my mind is still loaded with its reminders that Spaniards reportedly also disregard rules and expectations for what pleases them most.