(Apologies to fans of Milorad Pavic, b/c I already know that any description I offer of his books is going to do the man a great disservice.)
Thanks to a sojourn to the library last weekend, I found a great new author (new as in "new to me"). But there is a surreal story which goes along with the discovery of this book and just so happens to perfectly complement the style of the book. Meaning, ultimately, that the universe wanted me to know about Milorad Pavic.
So, the story goes...
Me and a friend were scanning pages for class. Actually she was scanning and as I had been in the library for 6 or so hours at that point, I was just talking to her. Next to us was a cart for books due to be reshelved. I was glancing through them, making completely random work-addled comments like "oh I should study Polish" or whatever b/c all of the books were dictionaries of various kinds or language instruction manuals.
But then, I see this red book with gold lettering entitled "Dictionary of the Khazars: male edition." Between the two of us, I feel me and this person know a lot about East Europe, Russia, and Central Asia - the name Khazars definitely felt like it belonged to that region. But we had never heard of them. I start to browse through the book. It has the oddest introduction. This tells the story of how in the 16th century there were two known copies of the Dictionary; one in gold and one with a silver lock. One of these was written in poisoned ink so that anyone who read it would instantly die. Furthermore, if one read the gold edition and the silver edition side by side they would be able to learn the moment of their death. I am at this point beyond intrigued, and yet completely confused.
Now for most people, the end to this story is obvious. Its not a dictionary at all, and you would have figured that out much sooner. We might have immediately come to such a conclusion also, except for the fact that it was to be shelved with other dictionaries - thus, lending a certain amount of credibility to the book's assertion that it was in fact a dictionary. And yes, you could dismiss such an incident with the very mundane comment "the librarian miscatalogued the book." Well, yes, that is one explanation. But considering Pavic's style (evoking comparisions to Borges), that his goal is to create non-linear books, which can be read in a multiplicity of ways, I feel that the circumstances of finding the book are completely appropriate. It wasn't miscatalogued at all.
Dictionary of the Khazars is a story told in three sections. It is the story of how a mythical group of Khazars come to choose between Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. In real life, they chose Judaism, but in the Dictionary their choice has been lost in time. One section of the book consists of Judaic sources regarding the Khazars, the other Christian references, and finally information from Islam on the group. There is a male edition and a female edition, which differ in only one, apparently crucial, paragraph. But this is not the most interesting of his books.
Landscape Painted With Tea happens to be a crossword puzzle. Yes, a crossword puzzle. I have only begun to read it, but my understanding of the book is that the first part is a story with various different endings and beginnings, while Book II can be read either "across" i.e. linear, or "down." There is a page that serves as a guide and tells you which sections to read depending on the path that you chose.
Last Love in Constantinople is a "Tarot Novel for Divination." So, it can on one hand be read in the normal way, or it can be read dealing out tarot cards as if for a reading. The sections in the book correspond to the cards, and whichever cards you are dealt you read those sections. Luckily for me, I already own a pack of Tarot cards.
He has a few other books, but my library didn't have those, so I have no idea what gems they conceal. I did read on his website that he wrote a book called Unique Item that consists of a different ending for every single copy produced - that is the book is in fact unique to each person who owns a copy.
