Michael Andre-Driussi's Blog, page 5

Weird way down in the New Sun weeds: "erentarii" from "ferentarii"

The current thinking is that Wolfe persistently erred in using "erentarii" for "ferentarii," a type of light infantry in ancient Roman armies.

I do not know how this error came about, but in trying to chase it down some years ago, I noticed that using Google search through books for "erentarii" would reveal cases of "ferentarii" where the initial "F" is a drop cap (an oversized capital letter) not recognized by the software. One case from 1670 (or 1607, or 1592) repeated many times:

God. Stewechii Commentarius

Sciptores veteres de re militari

This makes perfect sense, assuming that the software cannot correctly interpret drop caps.

So, "erentarii" can be seen as a software error regarding text with decorative drop caps.

While Wolfe could not have used Google search in the late 1970s, his error precisely matches our current search error. If Wolfe picked up this error from a faulty reference text, such a faulty reference text does not show up in the current Google search. We know, for example, that Wolfe used Stone's book A Glossary of the Construction..., and Stone gives it as "ferentarii":

Stone's A Glossary

Meanwhile, "Erentari" (with one "I") seems to be a surname.

Three Non-literary Books that Shaped The Book of the New Sun

In my considered opinion, there are three titles with big impact over the original tetralogy as a whole. Beyond these three books, influences are threaded chapter by chapter.

1. The Dying Earth (1950) by Jack Vance, a collection of science fantasy stories, for the dying sun genre.

2. I, Claudius (1934) by Robert Graves, a historical novel, for the mode of a memoir by an unlikely emperor.

3. The Deep (1975) by John Crowley, a slender science fantasy novel, for the enigmatic influence of powers "above the stage" and "below the stage" at the approaching end of an Age.

Again, beyond these three, it is chapter by chapter: Chapter 1 has Myth, Melville, Mark Twain, and Dickens; Chapter 2 has Borges, Clark Ashton Smith, and Edgar Allan Poe. And like that.

Short Sun: In the Courtroom, In the Blackwoods SPOILERS

But wait! There’s more.

In Wolfe’s novel Return to the Whorl, the narrator has his day in court. During the trial, there is a series of wonders in chapter 11: poltergeist activity; the testimony of a Neighbor named Windcloud; and the chasing of the judge by Babbie.

Turn again to “The Ungrateful Man” of Tales from the Gesta Romanorum (1884). Last time I focused on the pit at the beginning. Now we continue.

When peasant Massaccio tries to collect on the promises made, noble Vitalis denounces him and, through complications, they both end up in a court of law. Massaccio tells his fantastic story, and then:

“Noble signors,” said Vitalis, bowing to the tribunal, “I can only repeat what I have already said: I know not this man. Has he a single witness to produce?”

At this moment the whole court was thrown into fear and astonishment, for the lion, the monkey, and the serpent, entered the hall together. The monkey was mounted on the back of the lion, and the serpent was twined round the arm of the monkey. On entering, the lion roared, the monkey spluttered, and the serpent hissed.

“Ah! these are the animals of the pit,” cried Vitalis, in alarm.

“Signor Vitalis,” resumed the chief of the inquisitors, when the dismay which this apparition had caused had somewhat diminished, “you have asked where were the witnesses of Massaccio. You see that God has sent them at the right time before the bar of our tribunal. Since, then, God has testified against you, we should be culpable before Him if we did not punish your ingratitude. Your palace and your possessions are confiscated, and you shall pass the rest of your life in a narrow prison. And you,” continued he, addressing himself to Massaccio, who was all this time caressing the lion, the monkey, and the serpent, “since a Venetian has promised you a palace of marble, and a portion for your bride, the republic of Venice will accomplish the promise; the palace and possessions of Vitalis are thine. You,” said he to the secretary of the tribunal, “draw up an account of all this history, that the people of Venice may know, through all generations, that the justice of the tribunal of the state inquisition is not less equitable than it is rigorous.”

Wolfe takes the three animal witnesses and makes them Mucor, Windcloud, and Babbie. Further, Wolfe has the judge’s house given to the narrator (ch. 9), in a way echoing the settlement in “The Ungrateful Man.”

The Land Across: A Glimpse of Nichols & May

The audio skit “Mysterioso” (1958), an improv to music, has two Commie spies meeting on a public bus in the USA. After they go through sign, counter-sign, counter-counter-sign, and all, they exchange brief professional paranoid observations about their immediate environment. One says, “I don’t trust the conductor, he’s very short” (1:30/4:38).

We turn to chapter 10 of The Land Across by Gene Wolfe:

I quoted, “’I don’t trust that conductor. Why is he so short?’”

“And you mean by that . . . ?”

“Nothing. It’s from a cartoon I watched one time, that’s all. Papa Zenon’s pretty short, and it popped into my head.” (109)

Interested parties can find the skit by Mike Nichols and Elaine May on YouTube: link to "Mysterioso"

Short Sun: In the Pit, In the Weeds SPOILERS

In Wolfe’s novel On Blue’s Waters, the narrator gets trapped in a pit at the end of chapter 8. Chapter 9 has him trying to get help from others, and there are three interviews: Krait, Neighbor, and Krait. Krait is holding out for the best deal before he will help.

In Tales from the Gesta Romanorum (1884), a selection from the rather vast collection of writings by medieval monks, the first story is “The Ungrateful Man.” In it, Vitalis, a noble Venetian, is out hunting when he falls into a pit. His cries for help bring a peasant, who offers to help, and Vitalis gratefully pledges him some gold. Massaccio the peasant lets down a branch, but a monkey runs up it, which so frightens Massaccio that he runs away, thinking he had heard the devil in the pit. Vitalis ups his offer and promises a wedding present for his bride, and Massaccio lets down a second branch, but a lion jumps out. Vitalis cries that he will give a house and field, cows and gold, for help out of the pit. Massaccio comes back and tries a third time, but this time a serpent comes up the branch, frightening him again. Vitalis weeps and offers up his palace at Venice, his possessions, his honors. At his fourth try, Massaccio is successful, and rescues Vitalis from the pit. (Spoiler Alert: Vitalis proves to be ungrateful, but the animals each repay their debt. The tale type is ATU 160: Grateful Animals; Ungrateful Man.)

Further in the weeds, this version, as far as I can tell, is not the usual version of the story (called “Of Ingratitude” story XXXIX of Volume II in Swan’s translation, which has an oppressive seneschal and Guido, the poor man), a form which has the three animals, but does not have the escalation of reward being offered by the man in the pit. This version, as Tales from the Gesta Romanorum is clear to state, is from Blackwood’s Magazine (1835).

My point being that I suspect Gene Wolfe read at least the first story in Tales from the Gesta Romanorum (1884), and he used this scenario in crafting his Book of the Short Sun.

The Second Time I Saw Miriam the Girdle-girl

TL/DR; the Arabian Nights tale “Ali Nur al-Din and Miriam the Girdle-Girl” is known to be related to the Arabian Nights tales “Ali Shar and Zumurrud,” and, to a lesser extent, “Ala al-Din Abu l’Shamat,” but there is a strong link to the Italian/Istrian tale “Fair Brow,” because “Fair Brow” contains as many links as “Zumurrud” does. The traces of the Legend of Emma und Eginhard are significant for the story as well as establishing the history of the story’s composition.

Setting a date for the composition of “Miriam” suggests a range of AD 1150-1299; “Miriam” was added to the Cairo group after 1708, thence translated into English in 1842.

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In my blog entry for August 18, 2022, I wrote about the wildly inventive Arabian Nights tale “Ali Nur al-Din and Miriam the Girdle-Girl.”

Since then I was surprised to discover that an Italian folktale “Fair Brow” shows a specific sequence of details found in “Miriam.” This leads to the question of which came first: is “Fair Brow” a heroic version from the parody “Miriam,” or is “Miriam” a parody that incorporates key elements from “Fair Brow”? It seems unlikely to craft a heroic from a parody, so the second case seems more likely.

“Fair Brow” in Crane’s Italian Popular Tales (1885), is from Ive's Istrian Tales (1877), “Biela Fronte.”

“Fair Brow” shows many of the details from Arabian Nights tale “Ali Nur al-Din and Miriam the Girdle-Girl”:

1. hero buys a slave girl who turns out to be princess of a land with opposing religion;
2. the couple, in economic straits, is supported by her artistic talent;
3. agents of the king locate her through her art work, and she is seized;
4. hero is enslaved, shipped to her city;
5. she recognizes hero, arranges their escape.

This chain of five details establishes a context. The tale of Miriam the Girdle-Girl has a reputation of being derivative: The Arabian Nights Encyclopedia (2004) cites Gerhardt (1963) as thinking Maryam [sic] Girdle-girl an inferior imitation of “Ali Shar and Zumurrud.” The comparison is patently obvious, but to be fair, Zumurrud sews curtains for cash; an agent finds her through her art work, and she is seized; but that’s it. The slave girl is neither Christian nor a princess; the hero is not enslaved (searching for her, he enters the city where she has become king); the couple is reunited, but they do not escape. Thus, “Zumurrud” has only two of the five points of congruence between “Miriam” and “Fair Brow.” “Zumurrud” sets her eye on the hero and trash-talks all other potential buyers, which is a trait found in “Miriam” (but not in “Fair Brow”).

The Sequence Thus Far:

“Slave of Bari” (1290) [Note: Gerould does not mention this one at all.]
“Xenofonte” (1550) aka Gerould’s “Straparola I.”
“Fair Brow” (1877)

“Ali Shar and Zumurrud”
“Ali Nur al-Din and Miriam the Girdle-Girl”


Timeline a la Wikipedia and Gerould

25 Book of Tobit written
1101-1200 Legend of Emma und Eginhard
before 1299 The Grateful Dead + The Ransomed Woman created
1300-1500 Galland Manuscript
1501-1900 Egyptian recension (Miriam created)
1704-1707 Galland Edition, first European version (French)
1708-?? Most of the Egyptian recension added (Wiki); Miriam added
1840, 1859 Lane’s translation of Egyptian recension; Miriam omitted
1842 Breslau Edition volumes 9-12; Miriam included
1882 Payne’s translation; Miriam included
1885 Burton’s translation; Miriam included

Burton’s first footnote on “Miriam” says that he uses the title from Breslau; that Lane omits “Miriam” because it resembles Zumurrud and Shamat, but “he has unconsciously omitted one of the highest interest.” Further, Bacher’s belief of link to Charlemagne’s daughter Emma and his secretary Eginhart. Note “Emma und Eginhard” is a legend first noted in the 12th century.

Wolfe Tracking Today: Gene Wolfe at Plant Engineering (1983/partial)

TL/DR: A partial search of Plant Engineering 1983 reveals two articles penned by Gene Wolfe: “Impact of High Technology: Robotics” (Feb 3, 1983), and “The Anatomy of a Robot” (Jul 28, 1983), the latter of which was reprinted in Wolfe’s small press book Plan[e]t Engineering.

The Longer Version

The task is to make a trail-blazing index of articles written by Gene Wolfe in the pages of Plant Engineering from 1972 to 1984. Thirteen years, or twelve and a fraction.

Plant Engineering ("PE") is not monthly, it is perhaps biweekly. So estimate twenty-six issues per year.

Wolfe reported that he wrote “two or three articles a year” for PE.

Using spools of microfilm, I searched through seventeen issues of 1983 (Jan 20? to SEP 1) and found two articles by Wolfe.

The first research tip is that the table of contents ("TOC") for an issue does not list authors for a multi-author piece: thus, the first “Robotics” article was a subsection of a piece on “Impact of High Technology” where the author is only revealed at the end of the subsection. So researchers should be on the alert for anything related to robotics, since Wolfe was the PE expert on this. This also means that one has to go through unattributed pieces with a fine-tooth comb to see if Wolfe’s name shows up at the end of any subsection.

“The Anatomy of a Robot” was a case where Wolfe was named in the TOC.

There is a good chance that these two articles represent all the Wolfe articles for 1983, since he reported two or three articles a year.

This microfilm work was three hours at the public library. I do not know the number of hours I spent online in locating a nearby library with the resources, but it was probably more than three hours.

The reason why the year is only partial is that Spool 15Z had what I looked at, and the subsequent spool, 09Z, did not have PE at all, due to an error in the physical index.

The whole thing might be a lot easier for someone else. PE is available in an online form at some libraries; for example, through Gale Online Academic. Maybe Gale only has PE from 1984 onward, but getting 1984 would be useful.

Neil Gaiman and The Book of the Short Sun [Spoilers]]

TL, DR: The title says it all.

Neil Gaiman is the world's most famous fan of Gene Wolfe. Gaiman became famous through writing his phenomenal comic book series "The Sandman" (1989-1996). For the extension of this project, Gene Wolfe wrote two stories officially set in the Sandman universe: "Bluesberry Jam" (1996) and "Ain't You 'Most Done?" (1996).

But there is more than that.

Something happened in the second volume of Wolfe's The Book of the Short Sun (1999-2001); something changed with the protagonist of In Green's Jungle: he started entering and shaping dreams. This was not accomplished in the mode of Zelazny's The Dream Master (1966), a work referenced within the fiction of Le Guin, but in the style of Gaiman's Sandman (in turn, related to Zelazny's Amber series; which drew from several works of Kuttner and Moore). And Wolfe's protagonist has a talking bird familiar, just like Sandman's.

This sudden change seems to have a long fuse (five volumes here); another trademark of Wolfe's fiction.

A Swanwick note on Gene Wolfe

At the January 27th entry for his blog "Flogging Babel," Michael Swanwick writes about Gene Wolfe:

He apparently thought that any reasonably attentive reader could pick up on all of them [hints and suggestions within his work]. In this, as in so few other matters, however, he was wrong.

That is so funny, and so true!

Michael Swanwick also says nice things about my book, Gene Wolfe's First Four Novels: A Chapter Guide.

Here is a link to Flogging Babel.

Gene Wolfe and the Two Pinocchios

I believe that Wolfe in his fiction uses both the Disney Pinocchio and the Collodi Pinocchio. To illustrate the differences, I will focus on the Collodi Pinocchio.

In Carlo Collodi’s famous novel, The Adventures of Pinocchio (1883), Pinocchio is a bad creature, bad before birth (he was naughty as a talking branch), wicked as a marionette who kills the Talking Cricket in the same early chapter where the little moral guide is introduced (chapter 4). That is, Collodi’s Pinocchio is not one of inherent innocence being victimized by a wicked world, as in the Disney version of 1940, but rather, he possesses a natural badness that leads to further trouble, with a resulting greater struggle toward the good.

(I am not complaining about the Disney approach, I am only pointing out the difference.)

The novel is fast paced. It rides somewhere between the literary fairy tale, like stories by Hans Christian Anderson, and the less stable reality of magical realism, and the open mayhem of Looney Tunes cartoons.

For one example, in the Disney version much is made of how the hero has no strings, which makes him unique among marionettes. In Collodi’s novel, however, marionettes do not have strings; all of them walk, talk, and act on their own. This bit of what I see as “magical realism” is revealed in chapter 10 when the hero goes to see a marionette show, and the puppets interrupt their "Punch and Judy" routine to call Pinocchio from the audience up onto the stage, where they proceed to parade him around on their shoulders. At this, the audience begins to riot because the story they paid to watch has been interrupted by a spontaneous party among little wooden robots.

The novel starts to run out of energy toward the conclusion, but the happy ending is clear and exact: Pinocchio has become a real boy (with a new body); Geppetto is his father; and the Fairy with the Azure Hair has become his mother.

As indicated before, I believe that Wolfe in his fiction uses both the Disney Pinocchio and the Collodi Pinocchio; the innocent and the bad.

“The Eyeflash Miracles” (1976) is a case where Wolfe is using the Disney Pinocchio, the innocent one. The hero is used in a play, he is manipulated by two vagrants, and he occasionally talks with spirits.

I have a sense that Wolfe often uses the bad-boy Collodi Pinocchio, but at the moment I cannot name a shining example. (“The Toy Theater” is about marionettes, to be sure.)

However, with Severian of The Book of the New Sun, a figure who famously dreams of himself one time as a marionette on a stage, Wolfe employs both Pinocchios. While Severian’s profession as a torturer is like a mark of Cain, making people react to him as to a bad Pinocchio, at other points he is literally equated with Innocence, as when Talos calls him and teenage Dorcas “Death and Innocence,” and the reader comes to realize which is really which.

Then there are the particular plot points:

Severian kills his moral guide early on.

Talos, the vagrant who manipulates Severian, has a face like a fox, echoing the fox vagrant who manipulates both Pinocchios.

Severian is invited into a stage play that becomes all about himself.

There is a curious collusion between criminals and innkeepers. In Collodi’s novel, the vagrants direct bad Pinocchio to a certain inn where they rack up a high bill, leaving Pinocchio to pay for it. The innkeeper knows the vagrants from before and goes along with the ploy; this knowing nod links up with the collusion between Agia and the fat man at the Inn of Lost Loves.

In Collodi’s novel, two so-called “assassins” go after bad Pinocchio, but they botch it. The same thing happens to Severian, where hired killers termed “assassins” fail at their ambush.

So, there you go. I am beginning to suspect that Pinocchio forms a root in Wolfe’s work nearly as deep as Little Red Riding Hood.