This collection consists of the following short stories of Herman Melville:

✨ Piazza - Really enjoyed this tale about the contrast between imagination and reality. Perhaps the old adage "the grass is always greener on the other side" would apply here. Melville writes with beautiful, flowing descriptions. 4-stars

✨ Bartleby - The infamous scrivener who would "prefer not to". I have posted a separate review for this story. 5-stars

✨ Benito Cereno - Uncomfortable read about mutiny on a slave ship. I have posted a separate review for this story. 4-stars

✨ The Lightning-Rod Man - Just a strange little short story. 2.5-stars

✨ The Encantadas - Sketches of the Galapagos Islands. Melville plays to his strength here, which is the power of description. However, I felt these sketches went on far too long and became somewhat boring. 3-stars

✨ The Bell-Tower - A strange, macabre tale of artist, creation, and overstepping the bounds. 3.5-stars

I give the overall collection 4-stars because it includes two of Melville's very best shorts.
( )

I liked the stories in this compilation of Herman Melville's short stories/novellas, overall. One thing that bothered, though, me was the unconscious racism in this and other books of this time. I know this set of stories was a product of its time and views have changed since, but many parts in this made me cringe as I was reading, which stopped me from enjoying the stories as much as I would otherwise. Recommended to those who enjoy classics, just be warned of the racist overtones that could be triggering for some. ( )

Piazza Tales is a collection of six stories of varying length, which are the only collection of short pieces published during Melville's lifetime. These stories present a good cross-section of Melville's writing and the themes he addressed, particularly in his later work.

The title story "The Piazza" is a small masterpiece, which is about as direct a representation as one will find of Melville's unique combination of Romanticism, Stoicism and situational irony. To read this story and see these elements at work informs one's understanding of each of the stories that follow. The story opens with several pages of the "isn't nature sublime" type of writing which had been out of fashion for at least two generations before Melville's time. However, there is a point to this, because it sets the reader up for what eventually takes place.

The narrator's house is situated in a valley that is surrounded by mountains, but the house is lacking a porch or veranda — Melville's term is "piazza." As he says, "The house was wide — my fortune narrow; so that to build a panoramic piazza, one round and round, it could not be." He could only afford to build on one side.

After considering the vistas from each side, he settles upon the northern prospect, which provides a view of Greylock, a veritable "Charlemagne" among mountains. By and by, as he sits on his new porch gazing off into the distance, he gradually becomes aware of a construction high up the mountainside, which he finally decides must be a house rather than a barn because of the chance reflection in a glass window, which spoke of human habitation.

As he recovers from a long illness, the "golden mountain-window" puts him in mind of the fairy queen Titania in A Midsummer Night's Dream, which he had just been reading, and he fancies "the queen of fairies at her fairy window; at any rate, some glad mountain-girl." He decides it will do him good, "it will cure this weariness to look on her." So he prepares to "push away for fairy-land — for rainbow's end, in fairy land."

After a long journey by horseback and by foot, he reaches the lone cottage, and there he finds — not a fairy queen or even a fairy princess, but a tired and lonely girl at her sewing who, come to find out, had been gazing longingly across the valley and wondering who lived in a house she had spotted.

The narrator neglects to tell her that it is his house, for he has seen the futility of idle dreams of idealized faraway places. He returns home a wiser man. "Enough. Launching my yawl [figuratively] no more for fairy-land, I stick to the piazza. It is my box royal. . . . Yes, the scenery is magical — the illusion so complete."

"The Bell Tower," which concludes the book, also ties its philosophical lesson up in a neat little bow: "And so pride went before the fall." This story is also a haunting tale, not so much by the events related, but in the poetic language Melville employs:

"As all along where the pine tree falls, its dissolution leaves a mossy mount—last-flung shadow of the perished trunk; never lengthening, never lessening; unsubject to the fleet falsities of the sun; shade immutable, and true gauge which cometh by prostration — so westward from what seems the stump, one steadfast spear of lichened ruin veins the plain."

No speed-reading is possible here. The very language forces the reader to take it slow and drink in the deepest meaning.

The other stories include "Bartleby the Scrivener," a perennial favorite, "Benito Cereno," which draws on Melville's years at sea, "The Lightning-Rod Man," an amusing vignette, and "The Encantadas; or Enchanted Isles" — such an ironic title — which presents the Galapagos Islands in ten sketches. This latter has more in common with a long travel piece from The New Yorker than a short story. Melville's descriptions of the islands and various characters who dwelled there temporarily, seem more fact-based than imaginative. Two of the sketches have all the elements of good storytelling, but it is unclear whether the events portrayed actually occurred or were a seaman's tales. Regardless, "The Encantadas" is fascinating reading.

The whole collection, in fact, is very much worth reading, and "The Piazza" seems to set a tone which gives a kind of unity to these otherwise very individual stories. ( )

A pretty middling collection of tales, though nothing too inaccessible for Melville. The two novellas - Benito Cereno and Barteby - are definitely the stand outs here, though even suffer from requiring Melville to explain to you constantly why main characters behave in such ridiculous ways (why a lawyer would keep on paying a man who doesn't do his work or obey orders; why a captain sees so many signs of treachery but is repeatedly distracted by a sneeze or a swoon). The other tales aren't bad, but they're neither here nor there. ( )

This is a collection of 6 shorter pieces, not a novel, published in 1856. As a whole I far prefer them to Moby Dick or Billy Budd. I don't care for "The Piazza" (although it does boast the rarity of a female character in Melville) or "The Encantadas or Enchanted Isles" (10 sketches about the Galapagos Islands that are far more "tell" than "show.") "The Lightening-Rod Man" about a pushy door-to-door salesman is mildly amusing and "The Bell-Tower" is a rather traditional story reminiscent of Poe or Hawthorne. But the prizes of this collection are the two novellas: Benito Cereno and Barteby, the Scrivener. Benito Cereno is a brilliant example of the "unreliable narrator" and the way that subverts the racist assumptions of the day (and the point of view character) is masterful. Barteby I've heard described as Kafkaesque. It's black humor, but it is funny. ( )