Thursday, November 30, 2006
The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com. Ames, our mentor at this website, has an excellent new book out (he is the editor) called Sexual Metamorphosis: An Anthology of Transsexual Memoirs and an even newer book out called I Love You More Than You Know.
____________________________________________________________________
The most beautiful, but at the same time undeniably masculine man that I’d ever seen
Question: Dear Literary Dick,
When I was a kid, I read every single book written by Edgar Rice Burroughs. That was a shitload, too. 24 Tarzan books. 12 John Carter of Mars books. Plus Carson Napier of Venus, and many others. I was a real ERB-ophile. He thought his first story was so outrageous and feared people might think he was crazy. So he published it under a pseudonym of "Normal Bean." No kidding.
But my literary mystery questions are simple: When and how did Tarzan learn to wipe his ass? His ape mother, Kala, wouldn't have taught him to do so. And how did John Carter know that Dejah Thoris was "the most beautiful woman on two planets?"
Sincerely,
Chris O.
Answer: It is the opinion of the Literary Dick that neither of these questions can be answered with specific reference to Burroughs’s books. Tarzan and John Carter’s creator simply did not think to provide text-based solutions to these conundrums, which is bad news for this literary detective and even worse news for Burroughs’s readers, particularly fans of Tarzan, for surely a passage clarifying Chris’s first question would be pretty fun.
Fun also is much of what I found in my investigation. Undaunted by Burroughs’s silence I took, as is always advisable in such cases, to the New York Public Library on 42nd Street, where I found myself with a copy of Philip Jose Farmer’s Tarzan Alive: A Definitive Biography of Lord Greystroke (Doubleday & Company, 1972). In this great book Farmer recounts his adventures tracking down and interviewing the actual lord-raised-by-apes who was the inspiration for Burroughs’s Tarzan. Or something like that. Tarzan Alive is, unfortunately – for everyone, I think – pure fiction. I of course stupidly didn’t realize this as I began my skim through through the book and so the following passage – in which Farmer writes of sitting down to interview the man behind Tarzan – was even more wonderful than it is if you know it’s all made up:
“Unfortunately, I spent about five minutes of the interview, though not all at one time, in just looking at him. He was the most beautiful, but at the same time undeniably masculine man that I’d ever seen. This was so despite the scars on his face and hands that Burroughs speaks of and many more that Burroughs does not mention. I was silenced by the exceedingly charismatic force which he radiated even when he was quiet. Perhaps tigerish would be a better term. Something burns brightly inside him.
“I got the feeling that I was in the presence of an immortal, though I knew that he could bleed and die even as I. That he was eighty years old then but looked only about thirty-five seems unbelievable now that I am not longer in his presence.” (Farmer viii)
I’m not going to tell you how long it took me to figure out that Farmer was joking, nor my reaction, though I will say I was relieved to find myself distanced from Farmer and in the company of Brian V. Street’s The Savage in Literature (Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1975) a book I knew going in was the real McCoy, the genuine article, a 100% work of scholarship dealing seriously with books like Tarzan and so if it had anything in it involving the uses of toilet paper then those bits were bound to be amusing.
Sadly, I did not find anything in Stone specifically addressing Chris’s questions, though a few of the author’s insights are perhaps useful. Writing of issues related to the nature-vs.-nurture question – which naturally – or perhaps because of environmental factors? – arises frequently in books where someone from a ‘civilized’ society is raised by ‘savages’ – or visa versa – Stone suggests that:
“Interest in education in Victorian England contributed to the heredity versus environment debate. If the child’s mind was a tabula rasa as Locke had maintained, the cultural characteristics must have been acquired by training. But in that case, logically, the savage should have been able to learn ‘civilised’ behaviour. On the other hand, if cultural characteristics were inherited, then those inherited by white men were superior to those inherited by black. And if they were learnt, then those taught in white schools were superior to those taught in black. It was easier to the white man to learn the few skills of savage life than it was for the savage to learn the many skills of civilised life. Thus, whether the writer of fiction thinks heredity or environment more significant, in the very nature of the argument the stereotypes of ‘primitive’ peoples are presumed as they are in the scientists’ debate.” (Street 112)
Similarly, writing with reference to Tabu Dick, Stone writes,
“Tarzan, on the other hand, was trained by the apes but inherited Victorian gentility. […] Here, ultimately, as in the Tarzan stories, the white man in the jungle excels because of his superior brain, which enables him to learn the skills of such as tracking, for which the natives are renowned, more easily than they can learn ‘civilised’ abilities, such as reasoning.” (Ibid 110)
Now, we know Burroughs thought it unnecessary to describe the origin of Tarzan’s rectal cleansing ritual. If we accept Stone’s contention that feelings of racial superiority are behind some depictions of the ‘savage in literature’ – a pretty big ‘if’ I know – particularly as related to the nature-vs.-nurture question – then we might suggest that Burroughs imagined Tarzan was of such noble stock that he did not need his ape-mother Kala to teach him how to do those things we all must do but had inherited the knowledge as part of his “Victorian gentility.”
Alternatively, he maybe just didn’t think it would be in good taste to write about that kind of thing.
Now – to the John Carter question. In The Burroughs Cylodpaedia (McFarland & Company, Inc., 1996) Clark A. Brady writes of the Virginia-born fencer’s Martian wife,
“she was certainly the most alluring creature on at least two worlds. Often called “incomparable,” her beauty has been the cause of wars on Barsoom just as Helen’s was on Earth. Like others of her race, Dejah Thoris has copper-colored skin and coal-black hair.” (Brady 88)
I shared this passage with Chris, who pointed out,
“That just adds more mystery! It implies Carter's knowledge of OTHER worlds and the beauties there.”
And Brady’s encyclopaedic entry for Dejah Thoris is interesting for another reason – he describes her not as the most beautiful woman on at least two worlds but the most alluring. What are we to make of this? Well, whether she was alluring or beautiful of both I think it was just Carter’s opinion that she was these things more than anyone else encountered by him on Earth or Mars and he was so smitten with her that he could not even conceive of anyone being more of these things than she. Love will do this to a man, especially one in love with a Martian.
And Lastly
I'll close this instalment of The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) by mentioning a coincidence I uncovered in the course of my investigation. As with many of the coincidences exposed on this website, this one involves this website’s publisher, Jonathan Ames. You may recall that it was earlier reported here that Ames’s second novel (The Extra Man) shares its title with a 1977 book by Andrew Rosenthal (who looks like Ames) about a guy named Kip Ames, who, like Jonathan Ames has lots of “diverse sexual adventures”. Now, thanks to Chris’s question about Tarzan and Brian V. Stone’s book, it can be told that in 1900 a book by Bertram Mitford called John Ames was published. I couldn’t say if there are any eerie parallels between Ames’s life and Mitford’s book but here is Stone’s description of what is surely an exciting scene from that novel:
“While the commissioner is falling in love with a flirtatious Englishwoman in Cape Town, the rumblings of native discontent are to be heard in Matabeleland. The witch-doctors have gathered the people together on a moonlit night and worked them to a pitch of frenzy in which they will accept the eclipse of the moon as a sign from the gods. The oracle tells the crowd to look upwards at the darkening heavens as the eclipse beings and ‘in silent awe the superstitious savages gaze blankly upon the phenomenon’.” (Street 62)
____________________________________________________________________
The most beautiful, but at the same time undeniably masculine man that I’d ever seen
Question: Dear Literary Dick,
When I was a kid, I read every single book written by Edgar Rice Burroughs. That was a shitload, too. 24 Tarzan books. 12 John Carter of Mars books. Plus Carson Napier of Venus, and many others. I was a real ERB-ophile. He thought his first story was so outrageous and feared people might think he was crazy. So he published it under a pseudonym of "Normal Bean." No kidding.
But my literary mystery questions are simple: When and how did Tarzan learn to wipe his ass? His ape mother, Kala, wouldn't have taught him to do so. And how did John Carter know that Dejah Thoris was "the most beautiful woman on two planets?"
Sincerely,
Chris O.
Answer: It is the opinion of the Literary Dick that neither of these questions can be answered with specific reference to Burroughs’s books. Tarzan and John Carter’s creator simply did not think to provide text-based solutions to these conundrums, which is bad news for this literary detective and even worse news for Burroughs’s readers, particularly fans of Tarzan, for surely a passage clarifying Chris’s first question would be pretty fun.
Fun also is much of what I found in my investigation. Undaunted by Burroughs’s silence I took, as is always advisable in such cases, to the New York Public Library on 42nd Street, where I found myself with a copy of Philip Jose Farmer’s Tarzan Alive: A Definitive Biography of Lord Greystroke (Doubleday & Company, 1972). In this great book Farmer recounts his adventures tracking down and interviewing the actual lord-raised-by-apes who was the inspiration for Burroughs’s Tarzan. Or something like that. Tarzan Alive is, unfortunately – for everyone, I think – pure fiction. I of course stupidly didn’t realize this as I began my skim through through the book and so the following passage – in which Farmer writes of sitting down to interview the man behind Tarzan – was even more wonderful than it is if you know it’s all made up:
“Unfortunately, I spent about five minutes of the interview, though not all at one time, in just looking at him. He was the most beautiful, but at the same time undeniably masculine man that I’d ever seen. This was so despite the scars on his face and hands that Burroughs speaks of and many more that Burroughs does not mention. I was silenced by the exceedingly charismatic force which he radiated even when he was quiet. Perhaps tigerish would be a better term. Something burns brightly inside him.
“I got the feeling that I was in the presence of an immortal, though I knew that he could bleed and die even as I. That he was eighty years old then but looked only about thirty-five seems unbelievable now that I am not longer in his presence.” (Farmer viii)
I’m not going to tell you how long it took me to figure out that Farmer was joking, nor my reaction, though I will say I was relieved to find myself distanced from Farmer and in the company of Brian V. Street’s The Savage in Literature (Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1975) a book I knew going in was the real McCoy, the genuine article, a 100% work of scholarship dealing seriously with books like Tarzan and so if it had anything in it involving the uses of toilet paper then those bits were bound to be amusing.
Sadly, I did not find anything in Stone specifically addressing Chris’s questions, though a few of the author’s insights are perhaps useful. Writing of issues related to the nature-vs.-nurture question – which naturally – or perhaps because of environmental factors? – arises frequently in books where someone from a ‘civilized’ society is raised by ‘savages’ – or visa versa – Stone suggests that:
“Interest in education in Victorian England contributed to the heredity versus environment debate. If the child’s mind was a tabula rasa as Locke had maintained, the cultural characteristics must have been acquired by training. But in that case, logically, the savage should have been able to learn ‘civilised’ behaviour. On the other hand, if cultural characteristics were inherited, then those inherited by white men were superior to those inherited by black. And if they were learnt, then those taught in white schools were superior to those taught in black. It was easier to the white man to learn the few skills of savage life than it was for the savage to learn the many skills of civilised life. Thus, whether the writer of fiction thinks heredity or environment more significant, in the very nature of the argument the stereotypes of ‘primitive’ peoples are presumed as they are in the scientists’ debate.” (Street 112)
Similarly, writing with reference to Tabu Dick, Stone writes,
“Tarzan, on the other hand, was trained by the apes but inherited Victorian gentility. […] Here, ultimately, as in the Tarzan stories, the white man in the jungle excels because of his superior brain, which enables him to learn the skills of such as tracking, for which the natives are renowned, more easily than they can learn ‘civilised’ abilities, such as reasoning.” (Ibid 110)
Now, we know Burroughs thought it unnecessary to describe the origin of Tarzan’s rectal cleansing ritual. If we accept Stone’s contention that feelings of racial superiority are behind some depictions of the ‘savage in literature’ – a pretty big ‘if’ I know – particularly as related to the nature-vs.-nurture question – then we might suggest that Burroughs imagined Tarzan was of such noble stock that he did not need his ape-mother Kala to teach him how to do those things we all must do but had inherited the knowledge as part of his “Victorian gentility.”
Alternatively, he maybe just didn’t think it would be in good taste to write about that kind of thing.
Now – to the John Carter question. In The Burroughs Cylodpaedia (McFarland & Company, Inc., 1996) Clark A. Brady writes of the Virginia-born fencer’s Martian wife,
“she was certainly the most alluring creature on at least two worlds. Often called “incomparable,” her beauty has been the cause of wars on Barsoom just as Helen’s was on Earth. Like others of her race, Dejah Thoris has copper-colored skin and coal-black hair.” (Brady 88)
I shared this passage with Chris, who pointed out,
“That just adds more mystery! It implies Carter's knowledge of OTHER worlds and the beauties there.”
And Brady’s encyclopaedic entry for Dejah Thoris is interesting for another reason – he describes her not as the most beautiful woman on at least two worlds but the most alluring. What are we to make of this? Well, whether she was alluring or beautiful of both I think it was just Carter’s opinion that she was these things more than anyone else encountered by him on Earth or Mars and he was so smitten with her that he could not even conceive of anyone being more of these things than she. Love will do this to a man, especially one in love with a Martian.
And Lastly
I'll close this instalment of The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) by mentioning a coincidence I uncovered in the course of my investigation. As with many of the coincidences exposed on this website, this one involves this website’s publisher, Jonathan Ames. You may recall that it was earlier reported here that Ames’s second novel (The Extra Man) shares its title with a 1977 book by Andrew Rosenthal (who looks like Ames) about a guy named Kip Ames, who, like Jonathan Ames has lots of “diverse sexual adventures”. Now, thanks to Chris’s question about Tarzan and Brian V. Stone’s book, it can be told that in 1900 a book by Bertram Mitford called John Ames was published. I couldn’t say if there are any eerie parallels between Ames’s life and Mitford’s book but here is Stone’s description of what is surely an exciting scene from that novel:
“While the commissioner is falling in love with a flirtatious Englishwoman in Cape Town, the rumblings of native discontent are to be heard in Matabeleland. The witch-doctors have gathered the people together on a moonlit night and worked them to a pitch of frenzy in which they will accept the eclipse of the moon as a sign from the gods. The oracle tells the crowd to look upwards at the darkening heavens as the eclipse beings and ‘in silent awe the superstitious savages gaze blankly upon the phenomenon’.” (Street 62)
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com. Ames, our mentor at this website, has an excellent new book out (he is the editor) called Sexual Metamorphosis: An Anthology of Transsexual Memoirs and an even newer book out called I Love You More Than You Know. _____________________________________________________________________
News of a New Mystery
Hello. I recently received the below email and have begun steps to solve the two mysteries it puts forth. As always, assistance in these matters would be most welcome!
The email:
Dear Literary Dick,
When I was a kid, I read every single book written by Edgar Rice Burroughs. That was a shitload, too. 24 Tarzan books. 12 John Carter of Mars books.Plus Carson Napier of Venus, and many others. I was a real ERB-ophile. Hethought his first story was so outrageous and feared people might think hewas crazy. So he published it under a pseudonym of "Normal Bean." Nokidding.
But my literary mystery questions are simple: When and how did Tarzan learnv to wipe his ass? His ape mother, Kala, wouldn't have taught him to do so. And how did John Carter know that Dejah Thoris was "the most beautiful womanon two planets?"
Sincerely,Chris O.
News of a New Mystery
Hello. I recently received the below email and have begun steps to solve the two mysteries it puts forth. As always, assistance in these matters would be most welcome!
The email:
Dear Literary Dick,
When I was a kid, I read every single book written by Edgar Rice Burroughs. That was a shitload, too. 24 Tarzan books. 12 John Carter of Mars books.Plus Carson Napier of Venus, and many others. I was a real ERB-ophile. Hethought his first story was so outrageous and feared people might think hewas crazy. So he published it under a pseudonym of "Normal Bean." Nokidding.
But my literary mystery questions are simple: When and how did Tarzan learnv to wipe his ass? His ape mother, Kala, wouldn't have taught him to do so. And how did John Carter know that Dejah Thoris was "the most beautiful womanon two planets?"
Sincerely,Chris O.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com. Ames, our mentor at this website, has an excellent new book out (he is the editor) called Sexual Metamorphosis: An Anthology of Transsexual Memoirs and an even newer book out called I Love You More Than You Know.
_____________________________________________________________________
The Extra The Extra Man
It is imagined that at least some readers of this website will be familiar with the work of its publisher, Jonathan Ames. Lucky readers of this group will know his 1999 book,The Extra Man. For those unfamiliar with Ames’s second novel, it features a narrator similar to the Ames we find described in his autobiographical essays: a loner, whose intense and diverse sexual adventures mask a growing bewilderment as to who and what he is to become.
I mention these facts because of the coincidence (if that is what it is) I discovered walking along London’s South Bank. There, outside the National Film Theatre, are tables stacked with old books, and browsing there recently my eye caught a book called The Extra Man. But thisThe Extra Man was notThe Extra Man I’ve just described. Rather, thisThe Extra Man, this extraThe Extra Man, was, is, by the American playwright Andrew Rosenthal.
Now while you may not be stunned to learn Rosenthal chose the same name for his 1977 novel that Ames would, 22 years later, choose for his own, listen to how Rosenthal’s book is described on its dust jacket:
“A loner from childhood whose intense and diverse sexual adventures mask a growing bewilderment as to who and what he was, or would become, Kip Ames finds a sudden and complete answer when he enlists as a wartime Marine.”
While no Ames character I can recall enlists as a wartime Marine (nor, to my knowledge, has the author) the name and other activities are chilling in their evocation of the Amesian figure. As well, Rosenthal, described as having, "the guarded look of a tapir" looks, in the photo of him on the book, like Ames, though with fuller hair.
Are these coincidences, or something more, something awesome? More work into this extraThe Extra Man will need to be completed before I can establish and reveal the opinion of The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective), but when I do you will know where to find it.
_____________________________________________________________________
The Extra The Extra Man
It is imagined that at least some readers of this website will be familiar with the work of its publisher, Jonathan Ames. Lucky readers of this group will know his 1999 book,The Extra Man. For those unfamiliar with Ames’s second novel, it features a narrator similar to the Ames we find described in his autobiographical essays: a loner, whose intense and diverse sexual adventures mask a growing bewilderment as to who and what he is to become.
I mention these facts because of the coincidence (if that is what it is) I discovered walking along London’s South Bank. There, outside the National Film Theatre, are tables stacked with old books, and browsing there recently my eye caught a book called The Extra Man. But thisThe Extra Man was notThe Extra Man I’ve just described. Rather, thisThe Extra Man, this extraThe Extra Man, was, is, by the American playwright Andrew Rosenthal.
Now while you may not be stunned to learn Rosenthal chose the same name for his 1977 novel that Ames would, 22 years later, choose for his own, listen to how Rosenthal’s book is described on its dust jacket:
“A loner from childhood whose intense and diverse sexual adventures mask a growing bewilderment as to who and what he was, or would become, Kip Ames finds a sudden and complete answer when he enlists as a wartime Marine.”
While no Ames character I can recall enlists as a wartime Marine (nor, to my knowledge, has the author) the name and other activities are chilling in their evocation of the Amesian figure. As well, Rosenthal, described as having, "the guarded look of a tapir" looks, in the photo of him on the book, like Ames, though with fuller hair.
Are these coincidences, or something more, something awesome? More work into this extraThe Extra Man will need to be completed before I can establish and reveal the opinion of The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective), but when I do you will know where to find it.
Friday, January 13, 2006
The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com. Ames, our mentor at this website, has an excellent new book out called, Wake Up, Sir! and an even newer book out (he is the editor) called Sexual Metamorphosis: An Anthology of Transsexual Memoirs.
_____________________________________________________________________
Greetings from Galway! & A New Quesion
Greetings from Galway, where I have been vacationing, staying near Nora Barnacle's old house. The filthy letters she received from James Joyce, you may recall, were the subject of an early edition of The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective).
Because I am vacationing in Galway I do not have the resources to answer the query recently sent in by Josef, who asks,
"What do you make of the identity/gender questions/scandal around American cult author JT Leroy? Does it remind you of any notable precedents?"
So I thought'd post Josef's email, and anyone with comments is encouraged to write in.
Finally, if you'd like to read about the life of a non-literary detective, go to http://www.private-detective-agency.org/blog/
_____________________________________________________________________
Greetings from Galway! & A New Quesion
Greetings from Galway, where I have been vacationing, staying near Nora Barnacle's old house. The filthy letters she received from James Joyce, you may recall, were the subject of an early edition of The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective).
Because I am vacationing in Galway I do not have the resources to answer the query recently sent in by Josef, who asks,
"What do you make of the identity/gender questions/scandal around American cult author JT Leroy? Does it remind you of any notable precedents?"
So I thought'd post Josef's email, and anyone with comments is encouraged to write in.
Finally, if you'd like to read about the life of a non-literary detective, go to http://www.private-detective-agency.org/blog/
Thursday, December 08, 2005
The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com. Ames, our mentor at this website, has an excellent new book out called, Wake Up, Sir! and an even newer book out (he is the editor) called Sexual Metamorphosis: An Anthology of Transsexual Memoirs. _____________________________________________________________________
A Hamlet Mystery
Regular readers may remember I was recently in London as part of my on-going work on Milton. Pouring over papers in dusty London libraires I learned much about the great writer, and also in the Uk's capital I uncovered a mystery concerning William Shakespeare's play Hamlet.
In my copy of the Oxford Edition of that drama we find on page78 Figures 13 and 14, which purport to be facsimile copies of the first page of the Q1 version of Hamlet (the so-called 'Bad Quarto' of 1603) and the first page of the Q2 version (1604). But do we?
Figure 13 (which is said to be Q1) begins with the stage direction, 'Enter Bernardo, and Francisco, two Centinels.' Figure 14 (Q2) begins, 'Enter two Centinels'. But a reading of Stanely Wells's excellent introduction to the play leads one to believe these pages have been reversed, that Q2, the fuller, more acurate version of Shakespeare's play begins not with the entrance of nameless Centinels, but with, 'Enter Bernardo, and Francisco, two Centinels.'
My heart beat at the discovery, and deciding how to act made it beat the harder, as I contemplated contacting Wells, the great scholar himself. The author of numerous books on Shakespeare and General Editor of the Oxford Edition series of Shakespeare's plays, Wells is one of earth's leading Shakespeare authorities, (indeed, at http://www.sirbacon.org/wells.htm (where you can find an an excellent photo of Wells) Vanderbilt Professor Ann Cook is quoted as saying, "Stanley Wells is arguably the single most powerful authority on Shakespeare in the world, literally").
So I could not pester Wells lightly, but in the end this way seemed best, and I wrote him a letter sharing my observation. This is his reply:
Dear Mr. Wood,
Thank you for your letter, which I have just recieved. I've checked both the hardback and the paperback editions, both of which seem to me to be correct. As you say, on p.77 Q1 is said to open with Enter two Centinels. This is how the lefthand illustration on p.78 starts. I have before me a facimile of Q1 which shows that fig. 13 is correctly identified.
Best Wishes,
Yours,
Stanely Wells
I was not mortified to read this, but felt silly, and I read it in a library, so rushed to the Shakespeare section and found the Oxford Edition, and the things said by Professor Wells were as he said them in the library's copy. But then, referencing my own book, I found it did not jibe with what I saw in the library, or what Wells wrote to me, so I suspected and communicated back to Wells my theory that a mistake had been made only in the edition of The Oxford Edition I got.
After some hoopla, and more mailing (I mailed him a copy of the relevant pages from my book) I got this gratifying email:
Thanks for your letter. There is certainly a mystery here, and I'm greatful to you for drawing my attention to it. I've spoken to the editor of the World's Classics Series, who is looking into it. I'll report when I hear from her!
Best wishes,
Stanely
The solution to the mystery was soon provided by Oxford World's Classics Commisioning Editor, who wrote me,
"It appears that the two illustrations were flipped when we rescanned them in an attempt to improve the quality of the reproduction. We will correct the mistake at the earliest opportunity, and I will be happy to send you a replacement copy [...] Thank you for alerting us to the error."
A few last words: It was satisfying to be vindicated in this Hamlet mystery, after Professor Wells's initial email, and I was glad that by the end of our correspondence he was siging off as 'Stanely' (rather than with his full name, 'Stanely Wells'). Sadly I still haven't recieved a replacement for my error-containing Hamlet...but maybe that will come soon!
A final word: As I was writing to Wells I was stuyding Hamlet under the guidance of one of the General Editors of the Arden series of Shakespeare's plays, so I was in the unique position, I think, of usurping the time of General Editors of two of the most prominant editions of Shakespeare's works.
A Hamlet Mystery
Regular readers may remember I was recently in London as part of my on-going work on Milton. Pouring over papers in dusty London libraires I learned much about the great writer, and also in the Uk's capital I uncovered a mystery concerning William Shakespeare's play Hamlet.
In my copy of the Oxford Edition of that drama we find on page78 Figures 13 and 14, which purport to be facsimile copies of the first page of the Q1 version of Hamlet (the so-called 'Bad Quarto' of 1603) and the first page of the Q2 version (1604). But do we?
Figure 13 (which is said to be Q1) begins with the stage direction, 'Enter Bernardo, and Francisco, two Centinels.' Figure 14 (Q2) begins, 'Enter two Centinels'. But a reading of Stanely Wells's excellent introduction to the play leads one to believe these pages have been reversed, that Q2, the fuller, more acurate version of Shakespeare's play begins not with the entrance of nameless Centinels, but with, 'Enter Bernardo, and Francisco, two Centinels.'
My heart beat at the discovery, and deciding how to act made it beat the harder, as I contemplated contacting Wells, the great scholar himself. The author of numerous books on Shakespeare and General Editor of the Oxford Edition series of Shakespeare's plays, Wells is one of earth's leading Shakespeare authorities, (indeed, at http://www.sirbacon.org/wells.htm (where you can find an an excellent photo of Wells) Vanderbilt Professor Ann Cook is quoted as saying, "Stanley Wells is arguably the single most powerful authority on Shakespeare in the world, literally").
So I could not pester Wells lightly, but in the end this way seemed best, and I wrote him a letter sharing my observation. This is his reply:
Dear Mr. Wood,
Thank you for your letter, which I have just recieved. I've checked both the hardback and the paperback editions, both of which seem to me to be correct. As you say, on p.77 Q1 is said to open with Enter two Centinels. This is how the lefthand illustration on p.78 starts. I have before me a facimile of Q1 which shows that fig. 13 is correctly identified.
Best Wishes,
Yours,
Stanely Wells
I was not mortified to read this, but felt silly, and I read it in a library, so rushed to the Shakespeare section and found the Oxford Edition, and the things said by Professor Wells were as he said them in the library's copy. But then, referencing my own book, I found it did not jibe with what I saw in the library, or what Wells wrote to me, so I suspected and communicated back to Wells my theory that a mistake had been made only in the edition of The Oxford Edition I got.
After some hoopla, and more mailing (I mailed him a copy of the relevant pages from my book) I got this gratifying email:
Thanks for your letter. There is certainly a mystery here, and I'm greatful to you for drawing my attention to it. I've spoken to the editor of the World's Classics Series, who is looking into it. I'll report when I hear from her!
Best wishes,
Stanely
The solution to the mystery was soon provided by Oxford World's Classics Commisioning Editor, who wrote me,
"It appears that the two illustrations were flipped when we rescanned them in an attempt to improve the quality of the reproduction. We will correct the mistake at the earliest opportunity, and I will be happy to send you a replacement copy [...] Thank you for alerting us to the error."
A few last words: It was satisfying to be vindicated in this Hamlet mystery, after Professor Wells's initial email, and I was glad that by the end of our correspondence he was siging off as 'Stanely' (rather than with his full name, 'Stanely Wells'). Sadly I still haven't recieved a replacement for my error-containing Hamlet...but maybe that will come soon!
A final word: As I was writing to Wells I was stuyding Hamlet under the guidance of one of the General Editors of the Arden series of Shakespeare's plays, so I was in the unique position, I think, of usurping the time of General Editors of two of the most prominant editions of Shakespeare's works.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com. Ames, our mentor at this website, has an excellent new book out called, Wake Up, Sir! and an even newer book out (he is the editor) called Sexual Metamorphosis: An Anthology of Transsexual Memoirs.
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On Early Gay Black American Writers
Question: Hi Woodsy, darling. I want to know if their were any homosexual African American writers publishing fiction (as opposed to the poetry of Countee Cullen, Wallace Thurman and the apparent gay Langston Hughes) before the advent of James Baldwin's fantastic work.
Can you sleuth this for me Woodsy, darling?
-- Joan
Answer: Yes I can, and yes there are published gay male American black prose writers who predate Baldwin. To find out more about these early gay black American writers, I suggest Joan and those interested visit African-AmericanLiterature: Gay Male . This website lists many early American gay black writers, such as Alain Locke and Claude McKay, and says that:
"Richard Bruce Nugent's "Sadhji," a short story included in Locke's The New Negro (1925), is arguably the first gay text published by an African-American male."
So it is the opinion of The Literary Dick that there are black gay American prose writers who were published before James Baldwin.
_____________________________________________________________________
On Early Gay Black American Writers
Question: Hi Woodsy, darling. I want to know if their were any homosexual African American writers publishing fiction (as opposed to the poetry of Countee Cullen, Wallace Thurman and the apparent gay Langston Hughes) before the advent of James Baldwin's fantastic work.
Can you sleuth this for me Woodsy, darling?
-- Joan
Answer: Yes I can, and yes there are published gay male American black prose writers who predate Baldwin. To find out more about these early gay black American writers, I suggest Joan and those interested visit African-AmericanLiterature: Gay Male . This website lists many early American gay black writers, such as Alain Locke and Claude McKay, and says that:
"Richard Bruce Nugent's "Sadhji," a short story included in Locke's The New Negro (1925), is arguably the first gay text published by an African-American male."
So it is the opinion of The Literary Dick that there are black gay American prose writers who were published before James Baldwin.
Friday, September 02, 2005
The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective)
welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com. Ames, our mentor at this website, has an excellent new book out called, Wake Up, Sir! and an even newer book out (he is the editor) called Sexual Metamorphosis: An Anthology of Transsexual Memoirs.
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On Mary McCarthy's Group
Question: Hi Literary Dick,
I have another question for you. I just finished reading Mary McCarthy's "The Group," and I know that all the characters are supposed to be very thinly veiled portraits of real friends, lovers, acquaintances. I recognize the Harald Petersen character as her first husband, Harold Johnsrud, which, I suppose, would make Mary herself at
least partly Kay (which is funny, in a slightly self-aggrandizing way, given Kay's beautiful, overflowing funeral at the end). I also had the thought that Elizabeth Bishop (who, it is said, never forgave McCarthy for "The Group"-- though it seems Bishop really never liked McCarthy anyway) could be the model for Lakey, who goes off to Europe and comes home a Lesbian. Bishop also traveled a lot and also was a lesbian and in a marriage-like relationship with a foreign aristocrat. (Which made me wonder, was Bishop as pretty and frightening while she
was at Vassar as Lakey is?) But who are the other characters supposed to be? The women, especially, but also some of the men-- the husbands and lovers? I've been looking for gossip on the Internet, but to no avail.
Best,
Joanna
P.S. Thank you for answering my questions about every gay literary rumor I've ever heard.
P.P.S. I noticed you answered a question some one else had about the pencil penis she once encountered. McCarthy writes about said appendage in the follow-up to the "Memories of a Catholic Girlhood," "Intellectual Memories," which she was working on when she died and which was, I believe, published posthumously.
Answer: The best book I’ve found on this subject is Carol Brightman’s Mary McCarthy and Her World. (New York, Clarkson Potter Publishers, 1992). As Brightman notes, there’s been lots of speculation about who’s who in The Group, a book Norman Mailer was apparently very grumpy about. Brightman cites a 1964 article by Shelia Tobias, an admirable literary detective, who writes in ‘“The Group” on Mary McCarthy’:
“I thought it would be interesting to find out what The Group thought of Mary McCarthy and her book. […] I started out, of course, by rereading the novel carefully. Then I began looking hard at the pictures of the graduates in the Class of 1933’s yearbook. Since The Group, by Miss McCarthy’s testimony, was one of the most prominent on campus, I made note of all the “bests” the “most likelies,” the “most actives,” the editors, actresses, class officials and the grinds.” (New York: The Sunday Herald Tribune Magazine January 5, 1964 p. 6)
“It’s not a novel for me […] but a puzzle,” said one member of The Group to Tobias, who does not name names in her article.
Brightman does name names. Below is information culled from her book:
Real Person /Fake Person (page referenced in Blightman’s book)
Margaret Miller and Nathalie Swan/Lakey (78, 481)
Harol Johnsrud/Harald Petersen (83)
Dorothy Newton/Dottie (though defloration is imagined) (92)
Frani Blough/ Helena Davison (92)
Mrs. Blough /Mrs. Davison (92)
Eunice Clark Jessup/ Norine Schmittlapp (92, I think)
Bill Mangold/ Polly Andrew’s lover, Gus LeRoy (127)
Kay McLean (physical) McMarthy (her experiences)/Kay (481)
Helen Kelly’s butler, Finch/Pokey Prothero’s butler, Hatton (482)
Libby MacAusland/Elizabeth McAusland (482)
Selden Rodman/Norine’s husband, Putman (482)
(I may have reversed some of the Real and Fake people by mistake; Tobias says Polly Andrews is “entirely fictional.” (9))
So nobody in The Group became, as far as I know, mega famous. Selden Rodman apparently edited something called Common Sense.
A few words about Elizabeth Bishop: Joanna’s conjecture that Bishop was the model for Lakey was apparently shared by the poet. McCarthy, according to Brightman, wrote to Bishop to clarify the issue, but the letter reached her her deathday, and so went unread. In all of the pictures I’ve seen of Bishop she is quite attractive so I think it unlikely she was not fetching in her college days.
welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com. Ames, our mentor at this website, has an excellent new book out called, Wake Up, Sir! and an even newer book out (he is the editor) called Sexual Metamorphosis: An Anthology of Transsexual Memoirs.
---------------------------------------------
On Mary McCarthy's Group
Question: Hi Literary Dick,
I have another question for you. I just finished reading Mary McCarthy's "The Group," and I know that all the characters are supposed to be very thinly veiled portraits of real friends, lovers, acquaintances. I recognize the Harald Petersen character as her first husband, Harold Johnsrud, which, I suppose, would make Mary herself at
least partly Kay (which is funny, in a slightly self-aggrandizing way, given Kay's beautiful, overflowing funeral at the end). I also had the thought that Elizabeth Bishop (who, it is said, never forgave McCarthy for "The Group"-- though it seems Bishop really never liked McCarthy anyway) could be the model for Lakey, who goes off to Europe and comes home a Lesbian. Bishop also traveled a lot and also was a lesbian and in a marriage-like relationship with a foreign aristocrat. (Which made me wonder, was Bishop as pretty and frightening while she
was at Vassar as Lakey is?) But who are the other characters supposed to be? The women, especially, but also some of the men-- the husbands and lovers? I've been looking for gossip on the Internet, but to no avail.
Best,
Joanna
P.S. Thank you for answering my questions about every gay literary rumor I've ever heard.
P.P.S. I noticed you answered a question some one else had about the pencil penis she once encountered. McCarthy writes about said appendage in the follow-up to the "Memories of a Catholic Girlhood," "Intellectual Memories," which she was working on when she died and which was, I believe, published posthumously.
Answer: The best book I’ve found on this subject is Carol Brightman’s Mary McCarthy and Her World. (New York, Clarkson Potter Publishers, 1992). As Brightman notes, there’s been lots of speculation about who’s who in The Group, a book Norman Mailer was apparently very grumpy about. Brightman cites a 1964 article by Shelia Tobias, an admirable literary detective, who writes in ‘“The Group” on Mary McCarthy’:
“I thought it would be interesting to find out what The Group thought of Mary McCarthy and her book. […] I started out, of course, by rereading the novel carefully. Then I began looking hard at the pictures of the graduates in the Class of 1933’s yearbook. Since The Group, by Miss McCarthy’s testimony, was one of the most prominent on campus, I made note of all the “bests” the “most likelies,” the “most actives,” the editors, actresses, class officials and the grinds.” (New York: The Sunday Herald Tribune Magazine January 5, 1964 p. 6)
“It’s not a novel for me […] but a puzzle,” said one member of The Group to Tobias, who does not name names in her article.
Brightman does name names. Below is information culled from her book:
Real Person /Fake Person (page referenced in Blightman’s book)
Margaret Miller and Nathalie Swan/Lakey (78, 481)
Harol Johnsrud/Harald Petersen (83)
Dorothy Newton/Dottie (though defloration is imagined) (92)
Frani Blough/ Helena Davison (92)
Mrs. Blough /Mrs. Davison (92)
Eunice Clark Jessup/ Norine Schmittlapp (92, I think)
Bill Mangold/ Polly Andrew’s lover, Gus LeRoy (127)
Kay McLean (physical) McMarthy (her experiences)/Kay (481)
Helen Kelly’s butler, Finch/Pokey Prothero’s butler, Hatton (482)
Libby MacAusland/Elizabeth McAusland (482)
Selden Rodman/Norine’s husband, Putman (482)
(I may have reversed some of the Real and Fake people by mistake; Tobias says Polly Andrews is “entirely fictional.” (9))
So nobody in The Group became, as far as I know, mega famous. Selden Rodman apparently edited something called Common Sense.
A few words about Elizabeth Bishop: Joanna’s conjecture that Bishop was the model for Lakey was apparently shared by the poet. McCarthy, according to Brightman, wrote to Bishop to clarify the issue, but the letter reached her her deathday, and so went unread. In all of the pictures I’ve seen of Bishop she is quite attractive so I think it unlikely she was not fetching in her college days.
