Order on Order (the story, the map, the disturbing landscape of…)

(bootcamp: the markdown)

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The map in Lewis Carol’s Hunting of the Snark is a blank. Yet they make it to the island (what is an island defined by a blank map?). Order in the Hunting of the Snark is a series of absurdities-as-rules brought about by the author, including the narrative itself which could be summarized as follows:

THE LANDING > THE VANISHING

Its sad this, but less sad than it would be without the humour of order, without lyric and narrative jest layered like the smooth membrane of a page (as a map of time) over nothingness and the inevitable (if a narrative ‘inevitable’ is not already a map of time). This “agony in eight fits” begins when the omniscient (or so the crew is lead to believe) Bellman lands his crew with care,

“Just the place for a Snark!” the Bellman cried, as he landed his crew with care; Supporting each man on the top of the tide by a finger entwined in his hair.

If we keep to the story, if we abide by the rules of this map, we will be safe, held gently above the abyss. We will be carried along with pleasure… to the end, far off in the future. It is a story for children.

My own copy of this epic quest (I think it was one of the first books I owned—it is definitely the book I have owned for the longest) is one illustrated by Mervyn Peake. I only discover today as I format this probe that the original (1884) illustrations were by Henry Holiday. We can compare the Bellman (Holiday -left; Peake-right):

Funny though, I thought the Bellman supported his people with a finger entwined in his own hair, not their hair! Needless to say I see the Holiday illustrations as latecomers, as wrong. The Peake illustrations were always ominous and disturbing for me. I owned this book before I could read. So the form of this book with its strange typography filled with quotation marks always fascinated me. Likewise, the two-handed mathematical calculations of the Butcher demonstrating how many times he said something while the Beaver looks on, deeply worried, were also a strange field of glyphs for me. This little book still resonates with this disturbing encounter with (incomprehensible) language and numbers. It is a feeling I still often feel when an external narrative of order or methodology presents itself.

On the cover of my copy of the hunting the title and author’s name is underlined in brown crayon (by me, I know). Inside the cover is the inscription ottwo.5 in the same brown crayon. Beside it, in my mother’s handwriting is my name and address. ottwo, if you can’t guess, is Ottawa. I do remember getting my mother to complete the inscription which marked my ownership of this little book. After I learned to read I was embarassed by the clumsy writing and mis-spelling. I’ve gotten over this.

Back to the map. I have spent most of my life without a tangible reference for the geography of the Hunting of the Snark. Fortunately, now I see images of the original 1884 illustrations which include Holiday’s very precise rendition of the map. It is a blank, a perfect blank, but one (to my dismay) framed by references to what lies haphazardly beyond this frame.