• A Beginner’s Guide to Reading “S”
  • Inserts
  • Walkthroughs
  • Blog Posts
  • Other “S” Resources
  • Chapter 10 Alternate Endings
  • Welcome to the World of “S.”
  • About Mystimus

Thoughts On "S"

~ by J.J. Abrams and Doug Dorst

Thoughts On "S"

Tag Archives: magpie

Follow the Monkey and You’ll Find Yourself

18 Sunday Jan 2015

Posted by Brian Shipman in S, Ship of Theseus, Who Is Straka

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Catherwood Cup, Corbeau, Doug Dorst, Follow the Monkey, Frederick Catherwood, Howler Monkey, JJ Abrams, magpie, Ostrero, Stenfalk, V.M. Straka, VM Straka

HowlerMonkeyGod

On p352 in Ship of Theseus, Anca tells S to Follow the monkey. Jen Heyward circles these words and writes sound advice. Shortly thereafter (p353), S finds knife-cuts in bark that suggest a grinning simian face. It marks the beginning of a path up the hill that is narrow and overgrown, more implied than there.

Keeping in mind Jen’s possible play on words (sound advice), we next see S cataloguing the sounds he hears along the implied path marked by the monkey carving. The first sound he hears is a howler monkey. The next set of sounds he mentions are rodents and insects along the ground. The final set are birds, specifically four birds: a merlin, a crow, an oystercatcher, an a magpie tanager (corresponding to Stenfalk, Corbeau, Ostrero, and S).

There is something very important here. It starts with the sound of a howler monkey and ends with clear allusions to our four main characters – all along the trail that S found while following Anca’s advice to follow the monkey. And, in a larger sense, S is following what Sola told him in the margins of his writing in the orlop that foretold this very trip: Keep going. Keep paddling and you’ll find yourself (p337).

Why use the howler monkey here? Here is a thought. In Mayan culture, there is a howler monkey god. The one shown in the picture of the statue above is in the ruins of Copán. These ruins received an explorer named Frederick Catherwood sometime before 1841. In the Daily Pronghorn article about the Lake Cormorant Boathouse, the Catherwood Cup sailing award is presented in 1949 to PSU’s men’s sailing team.

The howler monkey gods – there are often two of them – have been depicted on Classic vases in the act of writing books (while stereotypically holding an ink nap) and carving human heads. Together, these two activities may have constituted a metaphor for the creation of mankind, with the book containing the birth signs and the head the life principle or ‘soul.’ Variously described as wind gods and, more recently, as ‘were-monkeys’ and ritual clowns, these statues may actually represent howler monkeys in their quality of musicians.

Notice that the howler monkey gods are shown writing books, holding ink naps, and serve as a metaphor for the creation of mankind. And the monkey doesn’t make its first appearance in “S.” No. J.J. Abrams has the monkey in Felicity, ALIAS, LOST, and Fringe. See for yourself and follow the monkey through the works of JJ Abrams.

Is it possible that the reason the howler monkey is included in “S” at this critical moment to hearken back to this same symbolism? Writing. Ink. Creation. Soul. Music.

And if it is, what does it actually mean for we readers to follow the monkey? If we do, will we find the answers we seek? Will we find ourselves? What do you think?

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook

Like this:

Like Loading...

Hidden in Plain Sight: Stenfalk, Corbeau, Ostrero, and Straka!

18 Monday Aug 2014

Posted by Brian Shipman in S, Ship of Theseus, Who Is Straka

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Amarante Durand, Charles Bridge, Corbeau, crow, Garcia Ferrara, JJ Abrams, magpie, merlin, Ostrero, oystercatcher, Pfeifer, Reinhold Feuerbach, Stenfalk, The Territory, Torsten Ekstrom, V.M. Straka, Vaclav Straka, VM Straka

Merlin Crow Oystercatcher Magpie

In Chapter 9, The Territory, S. approaches the governor’s mansion (p354, p367 French). He is following the path that he discovered after Anca told him Follow the monkey. He finds the semblance of a simian face carved in tree bark and discovers a path. While on the path, he hears a howler monkey off in the distance. And then, he hears something else.

The air is full of birdsong, though the singers are unseen. Some of the songs sound out of place to him, and he catalogues them: a merlin; a crow; an oystercatcher; and a magpie tanager twicking heatedly.

The birds whose songs sound out of place are…

Merlin: the Swedish word for merlin is Stenfalk
Crow:
the French word for crow in the French translation of S (p367) is Corbeau (ravens and crows are in the same family)
Oystercatcher: the Spanish word for oyster catcher is Ostrero
Magpie Tanager: The Czech word for magpie is Straka (Yen makes a good point below in the comments suggesting that this bird represents Filomela Caldeira.)

Here we have an outright reference to three of the characters from the book (Stenfalk, Corbeau, and Ostrero) – the three that were with S. as he fled from B__ to G__ after the wharf bombing. The only person missing is Pfeifer (sandpiper), and it is obvious why he is not present. His birdsong has been lost, and S. has an unpleasant rendezvous with him at the top of the hill he is climbing.

What is truly interesting about this list is that it seems to explicitly imply that S. is Straka – the magpie.

If you return to the margin notes of p124 (p129 in French), you will see that Amarante Durand and Torsten Ekstrom checked into the Hotel Voliery in Prague on October 30, 1910 – the day Vaclav Straka (the factory worker) is purported to have jumped from the Charles Bridge and never been seen again. They check into the hotel under the aliases A. Corbeau and T. Stenfalk and guest. The next day, Garcia Ferrara (Ostrero) and Reinhold Feuerbach (Pfeifer) check into the hotel.

And guest is implied on p364 to be Straka, the magpie. And yet neither Eric nor Jen have anything to say in the margins regarding this.

Was this nugget left for us to discover on our own? And, if so, does it strengthen the argument that Vaclav Straka is V.M. Straka? What do you think?

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook

Like this:

Like Loading...

The Archer’s Tales – How to Find It

17 Thursday Jul 2014

Posted by Brian Shipman in S, Ship of Theseus, Who Is Straka

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Archimedes Planetarium, Arquimedes de Sobreiro, concentric circles, Doug Dorst, Eric Husch, Filomela Caldeira, Jen Heyward, JJ Abrams, magpie, S, Ship of Theseus, Sobreiro, The Archer's Tales, V.M. Straka

Is S Reading a Book

Introduction: Context
The book S. is a book within a book.  The “outer” book is the story of Eric and Jen, two people who are reading the same book and writing their thoughts on it and their newfound relationship within the margins. This book, Ship of Theseus is the “inner” book, and tells the story of S and his struggle to find his identity and to connect with Sola.

There is another book between the outer and inner books – the story of F. X. Caldeira and V. M. Straka. We know for certain there is attempted communication from FXC to VMS through the footnotes and ciphers, and we are reasonably certain that VMS communicated with FXC through the story itself and in the unobtainable notes these two exchanged in the margins of the original manuscript.

Within our three books, we have this parallel context…

  1. Eric and Jen are two strangers who first connect while reading the same book, and they exchange written words for many days before they actually meet.
  2. FXC and VMS are two strangers who first connect while exchanging letters and notes in the margins of the manuscripts of over a dozen books, culminating in Ship of Theseus. This final book blurs the lines between author and translator, because we cannot tell which portions of the text were written by FXC and which were written by VMS. It is almost as if Ship of Theseus is really just two people having a conversation between each other in story form. Consider pages 195-196, which has two disputed paragraphs pointed out by Eric and Jen – one obviously written by VMS and then one apparently inserted by FXC. And the two paragraphs take place while the two characters in the book hold hands – their fingers interlaced – a symbol for the interlacing words of FXC and VMS that make up Ship of Theseus. And, of course, Chapter 10 is in full controversy over whether the words there are by FXC or VMS.
  3. S and Sola first connect while Sola is reading a book called The Archer’s Tales.

Strangers connecting over, or even in books – this is our context.

In fact, there is a fourth story that serves as the outermost book to them all – and that is the story of those of us reading S. We are connecting with each other while reading it. You and I just connected because we are both reading S. I have connected with many, though we have never met, as we exchange tweets and blog comments on S. – our own forms of marginalia.

Concentric Circles

These four stories are like concentric circles. Each circle contains two strangers who connect through the written word. We readers of S. discuss the relationship of Eric and Jen. Eric and Jen exchange notes about FXC and VMS. FXC and VMS communicate back and forth about S. and Sola. S. and Sola have a common interest in The Archer’s Tales.

The Archer’s Tales is the innermost circle – the center. It is the bullseye of the target created by this series of concentric circles.

Target

It seems by design that the corresponding circle of an archer’s target is called magpie and Straka is Czech for magpie. And it seems that we are being led on a journey from the outermost portion of the target to the bullseye – The Archer’s Tales.

The author of The Archer’s Tales is Arquimedes de Sobreiro. Sobreiro is the Portuguese term for the cork oak tree, also known as quercus suber. This tree, as any typical tree, has a trunk made up of tree rings, where we find our concentric circles again. The outermost circle of a cork oak tree is the cork bark, where we get the corks used in wine bottles.

Cork_oak_trunk_section

Arquimedes must be a reference to the Archimedes of Syracuse. Archimedes is known for creating the first planetarium. It was a machine made up of concentric glass spheres and powered by water to demonstrate the motion of the moon and planets accurately. It is thought to have been the inspiration for the antikythera mechanism. Here is a modern reproduction…

reproduction-of-greek-scientist-archimedes-planetarium

Eric Husch writes in the margins that he worked at the Mallon Planetarium of Pollard State University (p209). On the same page, Eric writes that he thinks Moody has a copy of The Archer’s Tales.

We also have the Eotvos syndrome (see p3, Fn1), where disorientation increases the victim gets to the equator, and the implied converse, where disorientation is gone entirely at the furthest point from the equator – the South (or North pole). Given the numerous references to the South pole in S., this is more likely. A view of the earth from the bottom, where the equator is the outside of the circle and the South pole is the center, we have yet another set of concentric circles.

And let’s not forget the most blatant form of concentric circles – the first thing we see when we slide “S” out of its box. The cover of Ship of Theseus, with the ship at its very center.

SOT Image

And, finally (but surely not exhaustively), we have Maelstrom’s spyglass. We see at the end of Ship of Theseus that S. finds it and is now able to see clearly through it.

And as they do so, S. will pick up Maelstrom’s old spyglass from the chart-room, where it was hidden under the blankets on which the blank-stained monkey sleeps and snores. 

S. slides the spyglass open and looks through it, seeing a perfect realization and resurrection of the xebec with what appears to be he and Sola at the wheel.

The final sentence of the entire book mentions that S. slides the spyglass closed.

image

A spyglass, when closed and observed from the eyepiece end, reveals a set of concentric circles. When these circles in two dimensions are expanded to three, the spyglass “comes to life” and reveals what cannot ordinarily be seen. A tantalizing clue?

We can’t seem to escape these concentric circles – an archery target with a circle labeled magpie, a cork oak tree named Sobreiro and the man who invented the first planetarium, Archimedes. A view from the South Pole. The book’s cover. The spyglass. The symbolic imperative seems clear – we are to move inward to the innermost circle. The bull’s eye. The Archer’s Tales.

S. and Sola: Two Readers. Two Writers.

The beautiful thing about our concentric circles is that they are all the same shape. Each move inward may have a different label, but it still has the same characteristics. Each of our circles in this case is represented by two strangers connecting and forming a relationship purely through the written word. And their written words are initially discussing the written words of the next circle inward.

If our concentric circles are to remain the same shape as we move inward, then Sola and S. must not meet initially face to face. They must meet purely through the written word because they are both reading the same book. When we first meet Sola, she is reading The Archer’s Tales. We must conclude, then, in the face of initial confusion, that S. is also reading this book and they do not meet face to face.

Makes no sense? Consider this. When we (and S.) first meet Sola, she is reading. And she is doing so unnoticed in a public tavern filled with people.

Odd that she is by herself here; there are only a handful of other women about, all of them with commerce on the mind, winding through the groups of sailors, seeking trade.  Odder still that none of these men, roaring with uncorked courage, is foisting his attentions on the bookish young woman. (p17)

Why is it that no one but S. notices her? Could it be that Sola is not really sitting in the tavern, but she is reading about the tavern in The Archer’s Tales. She is fully engrossed in the story, and the tavern and its characters are merely a “physical” manifestation of what she is reading. She then “notices” S. in the tavern and S. walks over. She notices S. not because he is actually in the tavern, but because he, too, is reading The Archer’s Tales.

Picture this. You find a book called The Archer’s Tales and you pick it up to read. You turn a page and read about a tavern filled with people. And then you notice that someone has written in the margins – two people in fact. Two styles of handwriting. And you read a conversation between a man and a woman who are making their first connection with each other by leaving these notes in the same book. So now one page tells two stories, but they intermingle so much they become one. The emerald green dress of Sola in the tavern (p17) is really the length of green ribbon serving as a bookmark in The Archer’s Tales (p243).

Sound familiar?

The book “S” is one book, but it is Ship of Theseus and Eric and Jen’s margin notes and FXC’s and VMS’s enciphered exchange.

What if Ship of Theseus (itself a written conversation back and forth between FXC and VMS) is one book presented in a single typeface, but in reality it is two stories? What if it is The Archer’s Tales and the margin notes of S. and Sola, so blended together that we cannot consider one apart from the other?

Remember Stenfalk? He said that he remembered reading the story of the K– people and their caves and drawings in The Archer’s Tales (p149-150). Shortly thereafter, S. finds himself in those caves staring at those drawings. Why? Because he is reading about it. Stenfalk also tells a story he remembers about a place called The Winter City (p148). Later, S. finds himself in the Winter City. Why? Because at that time he is reading about the story that Stenfalk remembered. Sola meets him in the Winter City by finding his margin notes there and reconnecting with him after an extended absence.

S. and Sola write to each other in story form in the margins of The Archer’s Tales while falling in love and longing to connect physically. This intermingled story is The Archer’s Tales and its marginalia. This creates Ship of Theseus (including the foreword and footnotes), which is really FXC and VMS writing to each other, falling in love and longing to be together. This book plus its marginalia by Eric and Jen form “S.,” as they fall in love and long to connect in the real world – which they finally do.

This is “S.” – the tale of an archer who at first can only hit the outer circle of the target, if even that. But after much practice, his aim becomes true and his arrow flies closer to the bull’s eye. Perhaps this theory is close. Perhaps it is way off center. You decide.

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook

Like this:

Like Loading...

The Archer’s Tales – From Magpie to Bullseye

09 Friday May 2014

Posted by Brian Shipman in S, Ship of Theseus, Who Is Straka

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

archery, Arquimedes de Sobreiro, cork oak, Doug Dorst, JJ Abrams, magpie, S, Ship of Theseus Paradox, The Archer's Tales, V.M. Straka, Vevoda, VM Straka

Target

mag·pie
n.

7. (Archery)

a. the outmost ring but one on a target
b. a shot that hits this ring

A target has concentric circles to help measure the archer’s aiming accuracy. We are all familiar with the center of the target – it is the bullseye. Those other concentric circles have names, too. Outside of the bull and it’s eye we have the inner circle, then the magpie, followed by the outer circle. Anything outside of the last circle is just a hit.

It can be no coincidence that Ship of Theseus is written by V. M. Straka (Straka is Czech for magpie) and within this book is a tantalizingly elusive book we all know as The Archer’s Tales.

An archer who is just learning may be fortunate to score a magpie – this is in his early stages. But an archer who has practiced – who has given himself over to making his aim true – his goal is the center of the target. The bullseye.

The magpie is on the outer edges of the target. The goal of the archer is to methodically make his way inward. His journey from magpie to bullseye might be known as The Archer’s Tales.

On p290-292 of Ship of Theseus, our man S. is in the center of Obsidian Island, high atop its lone volcano, inside the cabin on the outer rim. The Lady has just explained to him that he has choices to make – And they are about how, and even whether, you will live.

S. is seated in front of the Book of S. He opens it. He sees page after page of schematic drawings of his xebec. In its original state, the ship was perfect. Beautiful.  A harmonious whole, a shipwright’s realization of a xebec that would fly across the main and leave sailors aboard other vessels dumbstruck with envy.

As S. turns the pages, however, the ship begins to change. Portions of it are replaced. It begins to lose its luster.

Some of the changes are felicitous; many more are not, each one seeming to widen the gap between what was intended and what turned out to be.

By the end of the book, as it currently is, the xebec looks like the ship S. has come to know. A horrible thing.

Between what was intended – and what was intended to be. Jen boxes in this phrase and writes in the margins…

Intended by whom? Who decides what you’re supposed to be?

There is a single word that manages to encapsulate all of this: the archer’s target, the magpie along the outer rim, the gap between what was intended and what was intended to be.

This word is the Greek word hamartano. It is an ancient archery term that means, literally, to miss the mark – or to strike the target away from the bullseye. 

The Book of S. is the story of a man who begins as a magpie (Straka). We see him struggling to find his center – his purpose, his target, his very identity. Like the Eurasian magpie from which Straka’s name is taken, S. is self-aware. He knows something is not right and he wants to fix it.

But because S. does not even know who he is, he isn’t sure what exactly is broken and, in turn, what must be fixed. So when he stumbles into the bombing at B__, he finds something tangible that is clearly missing the mark – Vevoda. In fact, the Greek word hamartano is translated in the Gospel of Luke as sin. To sin is to miss the mark of what is intended by God. And so S., seeing just how far off the mark Vevoda is, assumes the identity of one who wishes to destroy that which misses the mark. He becomes a sworn enemy of Vevoda and all who serve him.

And yet, as S. chooses to pursue Vevoda’s destruction, a curious thing happens. As he closes in, he finds himself about to assassinate one of Vevoda’s key men – the governor of the Territory. A man they call Nemec. But as S. is about to complete his mission, he recognizes Nemec as an old friend – Pfeifer.

The pages that follow S.’s recognition reveal an internal struggle. Pfeifer once was running from Vevoda – but now he is working for him. How can this be? How could Pfeifer do such a thing? But we see in S.’s thoughts an implied realization. S. has become the very thing he hates. He is moving away from the center of the target instead of toward it because he is fighting the evil without instead of the evil within. He has become just like Vevoda.

This fact is driven home immediately after S. chooses to kill Pfeifer. As he flees the Governor’s guard, a bullet strikes a magpie and kills it (p368). And as S. returns to his ship, it is destroyed – along with everyone in it.

Later, after S.’s purgatorial sojourn in the Winter City, he discovers with Sola how to find Vevoda’s Chateau where he plans to murder Vevoda and all of his guests – those who have bought his Black Vine and used it to kill others.

But then, S. realizes something. This is not what he wants to do (p432). He changes his mind. He does not kill. In fact, he abandons the notion entirely. Rather than deliver death, S. delivers the bird of truth (avis veritatas) p434.

S. begins as the self-aware magpie, hitting only the outer edges of his purpose – missing the true center of his being. He spends his life trying to find purpose on the outside – the external evil of Vevoda and his agents and detectives. What he learns in the end is that he is not meant to be just a magpie – but a bird of truth.

Only when he makes the journey inward to confront his own shadow – the evil in himself – does he realize that the only way to destroy it is to choose not to do it – even if others do. In the very center of his being – in the bowels of the cellar’s of Vevoda – he confronts his own hamartano – his sin – and finds his purpose. He hits the bullseye – he descends into the labyrinth’s very center and slays the minotaur. And what does S. see at the end of the book as he returns to his ship? Through the spyglass he sees a perfect ship where he and Sola share the wheel together.

Whatever The Archer’s Tales are – whatever The Book of S. is, the stories these books tell are helping us take aim at discovering the very center of who we are – our identity. Our purpose. Bullseye.

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook

Like this:

Like Loading...

Stats

  • 508,096

Recent Posts

  • The End of the Line
  • Follow the Monkey: Sound Advice
  • Shakespeare in “S”
  • You Can Find Me in Times Square?
  • Protected: Hamlet’s Mill

Top Posts & Pages

  • A Beginner’s Guide to Reading “S”
  • Welcome to the World of "S."
  • An Intermediate Guide to Reading "S" - by J.J. Abrams and Doug Dorst
  • Straka's Original Ending for Ship of Theseus
  • Those Campfire Stories
  • Maelstrom - an Exhaustive Translation
  • What it Means to Follow the Monkey
  • The Ship of Theseus by V.M. Straka - A Beginner's Guide to Reading "S"
  • The Interlude Cipher
  • Chapter 10 Alternate Endings

Tags

Abdim Amarante Durand Archimedes Arquimedes de Sobreiro Art of the Fugue Ash Wednesday Bach Baruch Spinoza Calais cipher Corbeau cork oak Daily Pronghorn Doug Dorst Edsel B. Grimshaw El H-- Emydio Alves eotvos wheel Eric Husch Ermelinda Pega Ernest Hemingway Filomela Caldeira Filomela Xabregas Caldeira Filomena Caldeira Follow the Monkey FXC Godel Escher Bach Hermann Hesse identity It all goes back to Calais Jean Bernard Desjardins Jen Heyward Jennifer Heyward JJ Abrams Juan Blas Covarrubias Khatef Zelh LOST magpie McKay's Magazine Obsidian Island Osfour Ostrero Pfeifer PSU quercus suber Reader's Guide Robert Hooke S Samar Self Ship of Theseus Ship of Theseus Paradox Signe Rabe Sobreiro Sola Stenfalk substance Szalome T.S. Eliot The Archer's Tales The Glass Bead Game The Great Synthesis The Territory The Tortugan Journals The Waste Land The Winged Shoes of Emydio Alves Torsten Ekstrom TS Eliot V.M. Straka Vaclav Straka valise Vevoda VMS VM Straka Winter City

Blog at WordPress.com.

Cancel
Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy
%d bloggers like this: