Books – Page 9 – The View From Sari's World

Do you believe in synchronicity? It’s a term attributed to Carl Jung, in which there appears to be an “acausal connection of two or more psycho-physic phenomena”. Or in other words, a coincidence that occurs beyond what could be explained as a normal random event. This is also known as a meaningful coincidence. But most coincidences are random events that tie two or more things together or at least appear to. For example, you might be thinking about ice cream as you are watching T.V. only to find that during the next commercial break there’s an ad for Håågen Das. This may feel like a meaningful coincidence, especially if you take the ad to be a sign that you deserve the ice cream, but it’s not. A commercial that features ice cream is not odd or rare. Thinking about eating while watching T.V. is normal; there are so many food related commercials that it would be odd if you didn’t think about it now and again.

Normally I am a little skeptical when it comes to meaningful coincidences, but I’ve had several occur in my life so I am also open to the possibility that, in the words of my friend Micah, high strangeness can occur. It hasn’t happened for quite a while, at least not until last night. And oh boy, did it happen last night!

The impetus that led to last night’s high strangeness actually started about two month ago when I was talking about Shakespeare. A question was asked, “What makes him stand out among his peers?” and I had to admit I’d hadn’t read enough of his peers to make a solid case, other than to say, we don’t much remember them, so his writing was obviously better. I wasn’t completely happy with that answer so it occurred to me that it would be useful to have some type of collection of plays and or stories by some of his contemporaries. I have some of Marlow’s work, but not Ben Johnson or John Fletcher.

It just so happened that about the time I started looking for a possible collection of early 16^th century plays, one of my fellow Shakespeare scholars Tweeted about a book he found in a used bookshop. The book is volume two (I think) in a series titled English Drama, this volume, 1580-1642. Shakespeare just happens to sit right in the middle of this time frame. This was exactly what I was looking for.

This Tweet is what I could call a lucky coincidence. Since most of the people I follow on Twitter are Shakespeare geeks and scholars it is no real surprise that one of them would eventually share a find like this. And who knows, even if I hadn’t been looking for a book like this, his Tweet might have prompted me to start thinking about my gap in literary knowledge of 16^th century playwrights.

So we can agree that this was just a random event that just happened to coincide with my search for this type of collection. But here is where it all starts.

First, I have to explain who is not in this book. As the editors admit, “Due to constraints only five percent of ‘Elizabethan’ work is presented within these pages”. Shakespeare is not included because, and again in the words of the editors, “Ha, ha, ha, that’s funny. Everyone already has a collection of Shakespeare somewhere in their house!” Okay, I am paraphrasing, but the first volume does suggest that the hope of this collection would be to present other, less well remembered authors and playwrights, and that it would be redundant to include someone who is already widely available.

So, and I cannot emphases this enough, this volume in theory, had nothing to do with Shakespeare or his writing. The only connection it had was in my own head; I wanted it as a tool for my writing and lecturing.

Ah Amazon. Is there nothing that cannot be found on this site? It just so happened that several used bookstores connected to Amazon had copies for sale. I picked a seller with a 100% customer satisfaction rate who had what was described as a gently used copy. Just a random seller, with a good deal for me. No high strangeness here, right?

The book was due to arrive in April but, and this must be part of the 100% satisfaction, it came last night. This is what it looks like. Oh, and it weighs a ton. I’d hate to have to lift 10 percent of Elizabethan work.

I first opened the inside cover and saw this lovely inscription. I enjoy buying used books that have the original owner’s name in it. It makes me feel connected to them. It even has his street and city address. Now that, I’ve never seen before. If I didn’t believe the owner to be dead, I would almost have been tempted to write a letter of thanks for passing it on.

And here is where the high strangeness begins. When I flipped opened a random page to see just how sturdy this old book is, I found this. It is a note thanking the owner, George Kozan, for lending it out!

George-

Thanks again for use of the book-it helped a lot-if every I can return the favor-let me know.

S. Preston

If this wasn’t odd enough, the note was placed on top of a newspaper article. I paused when I saw it. It was strange enough that I just happened to flip to the page that contained a note of thanks, but it also contained an old folded up newspaper clipping. Besides inscribed covers, I get a thrill out of finding stuff like old newspaper clippings in used books. Usually they aren’t useful but can be entertaining if they have ads or pictures of the latest fashion. I saw that this was a clipping was from the New York Times Book Review section. I unfolded it wondering what “new” book or books would be offered for review. What I saw as I opened it up stunned me, and for a second I think I stopped breathing. As dumb as this sounds, the thought, “someone is playing with me” did go through my mind as I looked at the clipping.

Yes, of all the clippings to keep, of all the books to keep it in, and of all of the people who could have ended up with this book, I, who wanted it for research for my own book about Shakespeare, was holding a review about a book about Shakespeare, Shakespeare a Biography, by Peter Qunnell.

I didn’t go looking for Shakespeare, but somehow found him anyway. If I weren’t such a skeptic, I might think that the universe had just handed me a sign that pointed to me finishing my book, but that may be a little to woo for me. On the other hand, even skeptics need inspiration so I’m going to frame the clipping and put it in my office. It can’t hurt.

Synchronicity my friends, synchronicity.

“Vimes looked at the cover. The Title was The World of Poo. Apparently it was by the author of Wee and if Young Sam had one vote for the best book ever written, then it would go to Wee. His enthusiasm was perhaps fanned all the more because a rare imp of mischief in Vimes led him to do all the necessary straining noises.” (T. Pratchett, Snuff)

Have you ever been tricked by a novel? Or should I say, by an author? I am not talking about the kind of trick that we call a twist, or unreliable narrator (I’m sure this has happened to us all) but actually believing something you read in a work of fiction? No? Lucky you. I have, and I am almost ashamed to admit it.

Years ago, right before the invention of the internet, I read William Goldman’s The Princess Bride and was completely bamboozled by the author. If you’ve had the pleasure of reading the book, you probable know where I am going with this, if not, warning, spoiler ahead!

The book is told from an omnipresent narrator who not only knows what is going on everywhere in the book, he (or it, if we want to be politically correct) breaks the fourth wall by talking to the reader. The narrator does this by talking to the reader and admitting this story is an adaptation of S. Morgenstern’s Classic Tale of Love and High Adventure, a French tale in which Goldman abridges “all the good stuff”. Throughout the book the narrator refers to this tale and remarks where he omitted a chapter or scene. My favorite is a lost chapter devoted to Buttercup and her hats. Goldman does such a fine job of outlining this silly chapter that I was disappointed he did not just include it. Oh how I wanted to read the original story. And this, my friends, is where he got me. There is no original story other than Goldman’s.

At the time, I did not know anyone who read the novel so I couldn’t ask about the original. I tried the library and even a rare book dealer, who it turns out, had no idea what I was talking about. He obviously hadn’t read the book or he would have clued me in. It wasn’t until the early days of the Internet did I find out what a fool I’d been. This was when the Internet consisted mostly of chat rooms. Remember those? I found myself in a book chat room one afternoon, talking about old books and I brought up the subject of the original Princess Bride story. I’m positive everyone in the room who had read the book started laughing in unison. I have to say, I felt really small and gullible when I found out I’d been had.

Now days when a book title is mentioned in a novel, I assume it is a fictional piece (unless of course, I’ve read it). I refuse to be fooled again! So imagine my surprise the other day to find a book at my local library that Terry Pratchett refers to in his novel, Snuff. The book is titled, Miss Felicity Beedle’s The Wonderful World of Poo. I laughed out loud and of course, because it was a Terry Pratchett book, checked it out. Though it’s a children’s book, I encourage everyone to read it.

I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into, not being a fan of poo, but curious to read Pratchett’s take on the subject. Was this a book designed to explain our least talked about body function, or was it a silly take on what we do behind closed doors? To the first, not really, to the second, a little bit, but oh, so much more.

Have you ever longed for the days when as a child you viewed the world with wonder and awe? Even more so when you found yourself enthralled with collecting? For me it was rocks. I loved rock hunting, even if it meant just going out behind the house to look for treasures buried between the railroad tracks that ran through our town. I felt so proud when the grownups around me shared my enthusiasm and fussed over me when I showed them the newest “gem” gathered for my rock museum. Yes, I used our garden shed as my museum. Sadly, as much as I was encouraged to collect rocks, only one person was kind enough to buy a ticket. As much as I enjoy hiking in the woods now, and stopping to admire the beauty of nature, I will never recapture the feeling of my younger days when every day was an adventure.

Yet, for the brief amount of time I spent with this book, the memories of those days came flooding back even though our young protagonist, Geoffrey becomes obsessed with collecting poo.

In this book we meet several of Pratchett’s famous characters again, including the King of Gold Sir Harry, a gargoyle, Sybil, and a baby dragon that poops coal.

Grandma said, “I think there might be cake for tea. But first, tell me, what have you been doing today?”

“Well, I’ve stared a collection”. He said breathlessly, “and plain Old Humphrey said I could use his old shed for a museum, and he gave me a bucket and spade and a trowel for collecting. And I took Widdler (the dog) to the park, but I forgot my bucket and we met a boy called Louis”.

Geoffrey is visiting his grandmother in the city for the summer and spends his days meeting interesting people and animals, in the hopes of acquiring the greatest collection of poo to be housed in his museum. It sounds like a messy and smelly way to write about a young boy, but Pratchett manages to capture the feeling of awe and wonder that all children feel when given the chance to explore. This is the heart of the book and why it was such a pleasure to read. It is less about what is being collected and more about that short span of time we call childhood innocence. As I read I had to wonder if Pratchett, knowing he did not have much time left, wanted to recapture his youth and poor those feelings into Geoffrey. It was almost heartbreaking to think of this young boy growing up and losing his sense of wonder. In this book we find yet another gift from the great writer; he allows us to be children once again.

The book seems timely, given that our politicians are acting like caged monkeys who spend their days slinging poo at each other. It’s refreshing to read that given the right circumstances, collecting poo can be fun. Leave it to Pratchett to make us care about poo.

Category: Books

Synchronicity with Shakespeare

Remembering my childhood years of wonder with Terry Pratchett and The World of Poo

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