It is this strange timeless existence we currently live, where hour blends into hour, and day into day, until it all becomes a blur and time loses all meaning.
I have become incredibly laid back, too. Yesterday, for example, I was watching a Sherlock Holmes movie on Youtube, and instead of pausing it when the news came on at 22:00 I went right on watching the movie Yes, you read this right. Me, a news-addict if ever there was one, just shrugged my shoulders and remained in the 1940s. After all, what is on the news these days? Dead people, people who disobey the self isolation rules - ie future dead people. I care no more.
On the other hand, the arrival of a book last week caused a considerable stir in the DB Dominion.
A long longtime ago, and far far away, there was in the city of Portland, in the state of Oregon, an amazing bookshop called Powell's. Nowadays of course everyone knows about Powell's, City of Books, biggest bookstore in the galaxy. But back then it was just a great bookstore downtown Portland, and I visited it as often as finances permitted. I was then the sort of person who, when faced with a choice between having dinner and buying a book, always chose hunger and erudition. Kept me thin, too!
I had a little routine back then. I would arrive at Powell's just before lunch time, when everyone else left the store to re-dedicate themselves to the vulgar pleasures of the restaurant trade - yes, vulgar, and please don't interrupt! To repeat, I would enter the emptying shop and first go to the cookery section. Let me tell you, they had a huge cookery section! I couldn't afford any of the books, of course, them being new and all. And even if I could have afforded them, I certainly could not have afforded to buy the ingredients expensive cookery books demand! I did buy a book there once, called "How to eat well on a dollar a day and live to talk about it", and it was a wowzer! Written by a local student and well worth the 50 cents it cost me.
After the cookery section I would scout out the humour section, where I occasionally managed to unearth a cheap and cheerful pamphlet - "A Guide for Indoor Birdwatchers" comes to mind. I particularly liked the chapter on How to get rid of him - 'him' referred to a husband. I was unhappily married at the time, and always eager to pick up helpful hints. Unfortunately I didn't own a revolver, so had to get a divorce instead - much less dramatic, of course. The 'indirect method' describes how you shoot over your shoulder using a mirror - wonderful stuff!
After that I would meander into the tall dusty stacks somewhere in the Bowels of Powell's and immerse myself in the foreign language section. What, I hear you cry, no books on science, on social science, on Bellestristic? Belletristic is bunk, and the other stuff I could get for free from the university library - and what did I say about being interrupted? Anyway, science books are out of date as soon as they are published, so I very rarely bought them back then. I occasionally buy them nowadays, because I am too lazy to get them from the public library (plus their more popular books smell funny!), and the Bodleyan isn't a lending library.
Anyway. So one days I was perusing the second hand foreign language section of Powell's - why the second hand foreign language section? Well, firstly because there weren't any new foreign books available in Portland in those days (you couldn't even buy Der Spiegel at the newsagents!), except those irritatingly educational ones (Goethe, Einstein, Zuckmayer) that no one in their right mind reads, except to impress their colleagues - what do you mean, you actually like the German classics? Stop interrupting me, who is telling this story, you or I?
Where was I? Oh yes, I was nosing around in the foreign language section of Powell's, sub-section German. I tended to buy the old ones, because they were usually dirt cheap. Because, and I will tell you this because it is still true and no one else will ever tell you this, basically because they either don't know (if they aren't German) or won't tell because they want to continue to benefit from the situation (if they are German), because - Fraktur. Fraktur is the name of the old German script that was used prior to WWII. It became associated with the Nazis, so was abandoned after WWII.
Because Fraktur is different from the regular script used nowadays (Latin), people take one look at it and move on to another book. The fact is, it is very simple to read Fraktur. I taught myself when I was small, just by reading the old books I found in my parent's book cupboard, so don't let it stop you from buying a book that interests you. But because so few people can read Fraktur, the books are usually very cheap. And back in those days, if a book was cheap I would buy it!
The book that arrived last week was called "Tagtraeume eines Realisten" - Daydreams of a realist,from the early 20th century. I read it and was utterly fascinated. So fascinated that I talked about it to someone from Austria, who could read Fraktur, and lend it to her. And that horrible, despicable, utterly repugnant individual ran off with the book!!!!!!! May she die a thousand deaths, and suffer even more after that - there is no punishment too great for a book thief. I do exempt from this the impoverished book lover who is so devoted to a choice volume that s/he steals it from a library - that is not theft, but self defense.
So there I was without my favourite book. I suffered, I agonised, I tried to buy another copy. And sadly, no other copy was to be had, even in the greatest book shop in the Galaxy. The pain grew duller over time, but never really left me.
Back in Europe I continued my search, not helped by my inability to remember the name of the author - I have a terrible memory for names. I even got my niece, who works in a book shop and is a professional book buyer, to search for the elusive volume, but she, too, drew nothing but blanks.
I brooded over this for decades. Why couldn't I find the book? Had it been such a small edition that only a few hundred books had ever been printed, which then all perished in the fires of WWII? Were all owners so attached to their copies that they refused to let them go, and insisted to be buried with them instead of leaving them to their heirs, who could flog them to the nearest antiquarian book seller? Or, and this possibility had a morbid fascination for me, had all the copies been eaten by bookworms, attracted by the cheap type of paper that was often used for books in the harsh years after WWI?
A few weeks ago, working short hours, and limited in my activities to the sphere of the Little House, my under-occupied mind went into overdrive. I was sitting right here, where I am sitting now, in front of my laptop, when inspiration struck - I translated the title into English and began to search for it.
Blank after blank after blank - I found nothing, nada, zero, rien du tout.
But ....
When I repeated the search again, I mis-typed 'daydream'. It was late, you understand, and I was exhausted and aggravated. This can happen, even to the best of us - like me.
The search engine, unable to make sense of the word I had types, suggested alternatives - and one alternative was 'fantasies'. Click clack ping pong dibbedy-dong went my little grey cells, and then, fuelled by an intellectual arrogance rarely experienced - by me, anyway - I typed "Phantasien eines Realisten" - and hit pay dirt!
Yes, dear readers, I had forgotten not only the name of the author, but also the title of the book!
The book, it turned out, was not all that rare. It had been written by Josef Popper-Lynkeus, an Austrian writer, engineer, and inventor, and uncle of Karl Popper, the philosopher. He was born in 1838 and died in 1921. He was also a social reformer - Wikipedia has this to say about it:
Popper-Lynkeus designed his own social system, which ensures that all individuals are provided with goods of primary necessity, and explains it in a series of works beginning from The Right to Live and the Duty to Die (1878) and ending with The Universal Civil Service as a Solution of a Social Problem (1912).
According to Popper-Lynkeus, society has a duty to provide its members with goods of prime necessity – food, clothes, and housing – and also with the services of prime necessity – public health care, upbringing, and education. However, every healthy society member in the framework of labor service would participate in activities that do not require higher or secondary special education and that are related to the creation of material foundations of national economy (e.g. mining, forest exploitation, farm work, construction work). He or she would also be engaged in the manufacturing of goods and providing basic services.
etc etc
Admirable sentiments, I am sure you will agree, and while I knew nothing about Popper-Lynkeus at all when I read his book Fantasies of a Realist, I am pleased to discover that I had not wasted my admiration on someone unworthy.And the best thing?
I can now use the title Daydreams of a Realist for my own writings, without anyone accusing me of intellectual theft!
Thanks for not interrupting!
