Black Magic Woman

Today I bought a children’s book that begins, “There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife.” I don’t know about you, but this sounds like just the sort of book I’d love to read my children at bedtime. Then I could kiss them goodnight, gingerly close the door with a little “good night, sleep tight”-sort-of- smile, and then suddenly burst in a minute later brandishing a butcher knife. No, it’s not what you think! I’d also have a pan of midnight brownies…fresh out of the oven…in need of slicing. So what if the kids already brushed their teeth. These are my imaginary children, not yours. Yes, I know there are some of you out there who are deathly afraid of those insidious demons that incessantly gnaw away at your tooth enamel by night, and sleep comfortably in the cavernous decay of dental caries by day. You are even more afraid of them than the knife wielding maniacs out there. To that I say, “For shame! Chocolate tastes so much better after bedtime. "

Anyway, the book is called The Graveyard Book. I happened to catch the author on a recent episode of The Colbert Report, and was a bit intrigued by him. Firstly, he has an English accent. I’m telling you, the dullest chap in England automatically sounds more interesting and intelligent than your average American guy, just because of the accent. Since I consider myself such an auditory person, a compelling voice is a plus. The second thing I liked about this guy is that he was able to keep his wits about him in the midst of a Colbert interview. Stephen Colbert always takes witty jabs at his guests, and most of them don’t seem able to fully counter his attacks with their own confident and clever quips. This guy did pretty well. He also hates Tom Bombadil. But don’t we all! In case you don’t know who that is, he’s a pointless and irritatingly jolly character from The Lord of the Rings. Luckily, we don’t have to put up with him in the movie, because they cut him out.

I also got the impression from the Colbert interview that this book, which is set in a cemetery, had an ironic theme of facing our fears of the living. Of life. Of the people we pass by every day. This is a great message, and I can’t tell you enough how compelled I am by life and death juxtapositions and comparisons. Even scripturally speaking, I’m fascinated by Romans 6, because baptism represents both death and life. But now I’m getting into paradoxes. And you don’t want me to do that, because I won’t shut up. Essentially, I have high hopes that I will enjoy this book.

I also picked up a Dover Thrift edition of some Grimm’s fairytales. I guess it was a few years ago that I realized that all of my favorite fairytales growing up (Rapunzel, Rumpelstiltskin, Hansel and Grethal) were from the Grimm brothers. My mom was really such a wonderful story teller. That part of Rapunzel where the prince gets blinded by thorns and is later healed by Rapunzel's tears is certainly the most vivid image I can remember from those nights of bedtime stories. It's kinda morbid, but I've always considered it a very positive and authentic memory. Perhaps that is part of the reason why I love the character Rochester from Jane Eyre, and even why I sometimes have an odd compulsion to date a blind guy.

In recalling more childhood experiences with such stories, I also remember watching old tv programs based on the original fairytale versions of such Disney classics as, The Little Mermaid, and Beauty and the Beast. I cried when the Beast died, but I liked being affected that way. Getting older, my fascination for tragic and disturbing stories turned to an enjoyment of The Twilight Zone, the short stories of Edgar Allan Poe and Ray Bradbury, and the occasional Tim Burton or Stephen King movie.

With this in mind, the fact that there are so many other characteristics about me that have stayed the same reminds me of this on-going documentary I saw called The UP Series. It follows the lives of 14 children from the UK. During the first series, the children are seven, in the second series 14, then 21, and so on in spans of seven years between series. The point of the documentary is to illustrate the basis behind the saying, “Give me a child until he is seven and I will give you the man.”

After watching all of the finished series, it certainly did seem like most of the children stayed the same into adulthood. Although, the boy Neil, who I identified with the most and for whom I therefore had the highest hopes, actually ended up becoming a crazy and homeless hermit who wandered the open countryside of Scotland. That's sort of disturbing. I hope I won't share his fate. But now I've veered off the subject of my blog entry again with my all-too-constant fears of going insane.

Going back to the books I purchased, I also got one that has nothing to do with dark children’s stories. It’s called This is Your Brain on Music, with the sub-caption, “The science of a human obsession.” Hmm…I’ll admit, that sounds a little dark. Anyhow, it seems right up my alley. I actually wrote a research paper years ago about this weird theory I had that music was a part of everything. While I knew it was probably an over-exaggerated stretch of the imagination, I enjoyed researching it so much.

I remember having a keen interest in some of the thoughts of Pythagoras. Though, at times this guy had some wacky ideas. For instance, that every pair of opposites, say: day and night, hot and cold, up and down, etc., had a “good” and “evil” component. Seriously. And I’m sure if given the pair 'man' and 'woman,' he would have insisted that women were evil. In fact, I think he did. Perhaps you would agree, but that just means you’re a crack-pot too. On the other hand, some of his ideas have been monumental, like the Pythagorean Theorem and the development of the 12-note scale. Point being, I wonder, "Can sanity stray too far from genius?" (and can I stay off the topic of insanity?)

While his notion of “the music of the spheres” seemed ridiculous, the concept of the movements of the planets literally being in musical harmony was just so poetic that I couldn’t help but hope there was truly some scientific truth behind it. On the grandest scale, I love imagining this cosmic orchestra of worlds in motion. Even on the smallest scale, in picturing quarks consisting of what can basically be described as tiny vibrating strings, I hear music. It’s probably all just a thought I’ll secretly love despite its incongruence with reason (there's no sound in space). Just a fanciful myth, this “music of the spheres.” Despite that, it is an irresistible thought. Much like the obsession Dr. Frankenstein had for Cornelius Agrippa’s view that magic was the key to understanding God and nature.

Magic, of all things! But maybe those laughable passions aren’t as insane as they seem. I recall now the last words of the magician Angier (aka Wolverine…I mean, Hugh Jackman) from The Prestige:

“You never understood why we did this. The audience knows the Truth: the world is simple, miserable, solid all the way through. But if you could fool them, even for a second, then you can make them wonder. Then you got to see something very special. You really don’t know? It was the look on their faces…”

As crazy as he was by the end of this movie, I think he had a point about the value of magic. For my part, I am not ashamed to be scientifically minded and compelled by Pythagorean fables and gothic fairytales. For me, they provide a sense of wonder worth capturing. So long as it never involves drowning myself in a water tank every night.