Remember Raiders of The Lost Ark?
The Ark of the Covenant goes into a crate. A hammer slams, driving a nail. The lid fits tight, wood on wood, hiding the Ark from view. Anonymous hands snap on a padlock and a government employee (flat cap and flat expression) guides the crate along the gangway. The Ark becomes a box among thousands.
Some collections exist to conceal. Others exist to display. Few are copious enough to contain the wonders of centuries. But I’ve just come across literature’s equivalent to the Raider’s warehouse — and the crates are wiiiiide open.
I’ve been reading One Thousand and One Nights
Which puts me in a bind, because I like to credit authors, but the tales just weren’t written that way. There’s no single scrivener or orator to point to. The book is the product of generations of tellers, curators and translators.
So let’s credit the fictional storyteller Shahrazad. The book begins with that character and her tale is the one that enfolds the other rich narratives. Her qualifications?
Shahrazad possessed many accomplishments and was versed in the wisdom of the poets and the legends of ancient kings.
Her quandary? Her husband intends to put her to death… just as soon as he hears the end of her story. So in order to survive, Shahrazad becomes a character revealing characters who share their own fables, histories and adventures.
The result is a series of surprises that feels like touring the warehouse in Raiders. Or traversing dreams in Inception. Or tuning a radio to stations in ancient Persia, India, Greece…
Do that for a thousand and one nights, and you should feel disorientated and groggy. But no. Shahrazad gives her audience moments of stability. They are islands where we can rest, gather our thoughts, remember the pattern of the book, and prepare for the next chapter.
Take ‘Sindbad The Sailor and Sindbad The Porter’
Full title: ‘Sindbad The Sailor and Sindbad The Porter’. Did you know about the porter? He doesn’t loom in our culture like his name-fellow. The porter matters, though, because offers the reader stability. He’s a stand-in.
The porter’s summoned to a magnificent estate, where he’s entertained by a wealthy adventurer who happens to share his name:
‘How strange a chance!’ smiled the old man. ‘For my name, too, is Sindbad. They call me Sindbad the Sailor, and marvel at my strange history. Presently, my brother, you shall hear the tale of all my fortunes and all the hardships that I suffered before I rose to my present state and became the lord of this mansion where we are now assembled. For only after long toil, fearful ordeals, and dire peril did I achieve this fame. Seven voyages I made in all, each a story of such marvel as confounds the reason and fills the soul with wonder. All that be-fell me had been pre-ordained; and that which the moving hand of Fate had written no mortal power can revoke.’
Phew. Long extract there.
Thanks for bearing with. I wanted to give you the merchant’s full speech, because it is stuffed with reassurances for the reader:
- There will be drama (danger and hardship).
- There will be a broad narrative arc (the rise to wealth).
- There will be seven episodes (the voyages).
- There will be a greater lesson (about Fate).
And if that wasn’t enough reassuring predictability, Shahrazad closes each episode in the same way.
An evening of feasting and storytelling winds down. The porter is thanked for his company and given a hundred pieces of gold. The porter then leaves, sleeps, wakes, recites prayers and returns for another tale.
You see why the book is hard to put down. You want to see the porter get richer. You want to hear another of the sailor’s near-misses.
The rhythm pushes you onwards, but the possibility of a full and fully satisfying ending retreats. It’s somewhere beyond the crest of the next tale.
Aidan Clifford writes for Pinstripe Poets – artists who love their day jobs. This post is part of a series called ‘Write like the Greats’. See the rest here.
