We have managed to obtain, by placing a certain sum in the right palm at the right time, the typescript of an upcoming interview in The New Yorker. I'm told it will be severely edited before publication.
The interview is with the Dutch writer Johann Van Dumpling, known to the world by his pen name, Parasomnium.
Interviewer (smiling brightly): May I call you Para?
Parasomnium: No, you may not.
Interviewer: Oh . .. uh . . . What is it that inspires you to write, Parasomnium?
Parasomnium: The honk of the geese at night
Makes Parasomnium write.
Interviewer (gushing): Oh, how interesting, and just what I imagined!The romance of wild nature inspires you!
Parasomnium: That's part of it. The other part is that the damned things wake me up about 2:00 am, and I can't go back to sleep. I write in November. That's how "My Life as a Transitional" got written.
Interviewer: Oh, yes, the famous "Life." But can you speak of the recently released "Elegy for the TOE," which is causing such a stir?
Parasomnium: "Elegy for the TOE" was inspired by a trip I made to Topeka, Kansas, to visit a distant cousin, Barney Dumpling, whose ancestors migrated westward in the 1890's. They dropped the "Van" somewhere in Pennsylvania:
On Dutch Hill, where the women fret,
And the miners shudder in hopeless debt,
In the frozen smear of a wintry sunset.
That's a litte excerpt from "Elegy."
Interviewer: Wonderful!
Parasomnium: That was the idea, yes. Circa 1925. "Elegy for the TOE" is a historical panorama of Dutch-cum-American memes, beginning with Lutheranism and a sort of unconscious nature worship and culminating in the sad environs of a school board meeting in Kansas, a "Jesus Saves" sign plastered on the back of a Ford in the parking lot. Next to it is a Chevy decorated with the ridiculous slogan, "I'm not perfect, just forgiven" (as though someone else were arguing that they WERE perfect--"I'm not perfect"--"Oh, yes, you are!") On the wall of the room where they are hammering out their manifesto, with good ole Barney in attendance, there's a photo of Piltdown Man and a copy of Haeckel's drawings. Facsimilies of the 10 Commandments serve as window shades. Got the picture?
Interviewer: Got it!
Parasomnium: Now let's flash back to Dutch Hill, PA, some 80 years ago, where my distant relatives were close to the soil:
She was a lover of water and wind--
That sudden streak across the clouds, and then--
Dramatic pause--a murmur from the sky.
Interviewer: Excuse me; who is "she"?
Parasomnium (archly): A character. A Dutch girl. In Pennsylvania.
Interviewer (blankly): Oh, I see.
Parasomnium: Where was I?
Or snow, that wonderful white lie,
That turns an ugly barn into a palace,
A corner into curves; a broken bottle, a chalice.
Interviewer: Great!
Parsomnium: Yes, but the point is that, Lutherans though they were,
they had sense enough in those days to accept and even applaud the political result of the Scopes trial.
But look at them now. They drifted away from the old church and splintered into groups, eventually evolving into the current American brand of strip-center religion, the "Charismatic Church of the Flaming God," or some such thing, started with a do-it-yourself religion kit from Walmart, with no educated authorities to guide them, run by hicks, hacks, and salesmen, vulgarizing the fabric of Christianity. That's what "Elegy for the TOE" is about.
Interviewer (losing interest): That's so nice. Anything else in your future?
Parasomnium: As a matter of fact, I've received an invitation to the Vatican.
Interviewer (eyes light up): Wow!
Parasomnium: The Pope is celebrating his birthday, and he's concerned about diminishing pomp. He wants to add a little edge to the party--something controversial. Apparently they think I'm a very good stick to beat the Protestants with. But I don't know that I'm going.
Interviewer: Not going? Are you out of your mind?
Parasomnium: I don't know that I want to preen in front of the Pope. I'm an atheist.
Interviewer: Who cares? Just don't mention it. It's free press!
Press is what matters in this world. It's all that matters. Didn't you know that? If you attend that party, I can guarantee you a write-up in The New Yorker. Let me get my boss on the phone; we can wrap this up in no time . . .
Parasomnium (not listening, thinking to himself, moving his lips): On the other hand, in the arena of international religious politics, one sometimes has to lie with strange bedfellows . . . One has to consider the political angle . . .
Interviewer: Let me get the photographer in here. Just a second . . .
This message has been edited by robinrohan, 11-14-2005 12:45 PM
This message has been edited by robinrohan, 11-14-2005 12:46 PM
This message has been edited by robinrohan, 11-14-2005 12:49 PM
This message has been edited by robinrohan, 11-14-2005 02:08 PM
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