Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of dri...
— Herman Melville
Read the full supplied practice passage
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.
There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs—commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme downtown is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.
Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall, northward. What do you see?—Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep. But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster—tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks. How then is this? Are the green fields gone? What do they here?
But look! here come more crowds, pacing straight for the water, and seemingly bound for a dive. Strange! Nothing will content them but the extremest limit of the land; loitering under the shady lee of yonder warehouses will not suffice. No. They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly can without falling in. And there they stand—miles of them—leagues. Inlanders all, they come from lanes and alleys, streets and avenues—north, east, south, and west. Yet here they all unite. Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles of the compasses of all those ships attract them thither?
Words to notice in this passage
Find these phrases in the supplied text. What changes if you remove or replace them?
- Call me Ishmael
- a damp, drizzly November in my soul
- the watery part of the world
Why read both excerpts?
The short version ends before this expansion. Read it to isolate the hook, then return here to see how repeated clauses and changes of scale sustain the opening.
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Why This Passage Matters
The extended opening keeps the short version’s invitation, then changes scale. A chain of personal feelings leads to a scene of people looking at the water. The movement lets you compare an intimate opening with a much wider pattern of behavior.
Writing Techniques to Notice
Accumulated clauses:
The repeated “whenever” clauses postpone “then,” making the sentence feel like a mounting list of reasons for leaving.A change of scale:
“There now is your insular city” shifts attention from the narrator’s feelings to a place and its people.Varied movement:
The sequence beginning “Some leaning” changes the positions of the people while keeping their attention directed toward the water. Short questions interrupt the longer descriptions.
💡 Key Takeaway
Let sentence length and viewpoint change as the scene grows; a long opening needs movement as well as a striking first line.
Try the technique in your own writing
Move from one person to a wider scene
Write 90–130 words about waiting at a community sports ground before a match. Begin with one person’s routine, use three parallel clauses to show their anticipation, then widen to other people at the ground. Finish with a short question.
This optional exercise practices a writing choice. Typing speed and accuracy do not grade this original writing.
One possible model and review checks
I check the gate twice before the team arrives. When the chalk is still fresh, when the benches are empty, when the first ball rolls across the grass without an owner, I start imagining the afternoon. Beyond the fence, a parent unfolds a chair. Two children argue about which goal is home. A coach walks the touchline with a list pressed flat against a clipboard. Soon these separate arrivals will become a crowd, and the quiet field will belong to all of them for an hour. Who will break the silence first?
- Three parallel clauses accumulate before the sentence resolves.
- The viewpoint moves from one person to a wider group.
- Longer movement is balanced by a short closing question.
Study this technique with more examples · Try a guided original-writing assignment
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