My "vacation" this week includes re-potting the plants and cleaning out a bunch of my old papers in the office.
From a high school paper I wrote circa 1984 on Gogol's Diary of a Madman:
Our Hero laments his lowly position as a quill sharpener (they do these things in Russia, I've heard; it kills time on the steppe) when suddenly the answer comes to him. He is the lost King of Spain for whom the world has been searching. The memorable date is listed as "Year 2000, April 43."
From there real life rapidly deteriorates. The madman awaits the arrival of his court, occasionally making clinical, detatched comments such as "Can't remember the day. Nor was there a month. Damned if I know what's been going on." When the royal entourage finally does arrive, the "King" notes some of the strange deference to royalty: "The Chancellor hit me with his stick and chased me into my room. Such is the power of popular tradition in Spain!" In his spare time, he jots down his theories: "The Moon, of course is made in Hamburg, and I must say they do a very poor job...The moon itself is such a delicate ball that men cannot live there--only noses. And that's why we can't see our own noses; they are all on the moon."
...In short, it is a fascinating story, if a bit perversely so, and all the dogs I have conferred with (at least, those who have read it) quite agree.
I got a 15 out of 10 on this, whatever that means.
Posted at October 16, 2002 11:28 AMAre you certain I didn't marry a Thurber inadvertently?
I'll have to ask your father next time they visit.....
Posted by: Eric Sinclair on October 16, 2002 04:55 PM