by Jeff Noon
Indeed, Albert Square was filling up with water, but it was only the tears of Heaven raining down once again. Alice felt rather sheepish when she realized that it was only the rain filling up the Square, and not her tears alone. (Have you ever seen a sheep in the rain? Well, that’s exactly how Alice felt.) The crowd of animals, animates, animen, aniwomen and anioldiron was rushing out of the Square to escape the downpour, leaving Alice quite alone once again.
But not quite alone! Because, yes! There was Whippoorwill! He was fluttering above the Square, and making rather a bad job of the fluttering, because all the rainwater had drenched his wings. Alice quickly reached up to try to catch him; in fact, Alice didn’t even need to try, the parrot was so bogged down with moisture: Alice captured him quite easily. “Whippoorwill!” she scolded, “look at the state you’re in! Whatever will Great Aunt Ermintrude say when I get you home? You will come home with me now, won’t you?”
To which the parrot made no reply at all except to look at her with a sideways eye and squawk out another riddle. “Who is it, Alice, that lives between an octopus’s area and Ceylon’s favourite stethoscope?”
“Well…” commenced Alice, “I almost know where the country called Ceylon is; I’ve seen it on a map of the world in the schoolroom. I seem to remember that it is famous for growing tea-leaves, but I didn’t know that the country had a favourite stethoscope. I didn’t know that Ceylon had any stethoscopes at all, let alone a favourite one! And as to how much area an octopus covers: well, I suppose it all depends on how many of his eight legs he might have stretched out, or coiled. But really, Whippoorwill, what could possibly live between two such strange things?”
“Quickly, Alice!”
“Really, I can’t make my mind up!”
“Can’t make your mind up!” squawked Whippoorwill. “Try making your mind down!”
“I can make my mind up, sometimes at least,” replied Alice, “but how can I possibly make my mind down? That doesn’t seem right at all!”
“You must become more left than right, Alice,” shrieked the parrot. “You must become more down than up! You must find the person that lives between an octopus’s area and Ceylon’s favourite stethoscope.” And upon those wet and slippery words Whippoorwill managed to slip away from Alice’s hands!
“Whippoorwill!” called out Alice. “Come back here, immediately!” But off he flew once again, vanishing into the skies of Manchester. “Oh, this is too, too much!” sulked Alice. “Why is Whippoorwill being so very naughty today? But oh my goodness! Whatever’s making that dreadful noise? Surely it can’t be Whippoorwill? Not even the naughtiest parrot in the world could make such a flapping din?”
Alice had indeed heard a very flapping din, accompanied by a huge blast of wind which caused the rain to blow hither and thither. Alice was in danger of losing Whippoorwill’s stray feather in this hithering and thithering, so she quickly stuffed it back into her pinafore pocket. Something must have passed between the Earth and the Sun just then, because a thick shadow was drifting over Albert Square. Alice looked upwards; a gigantic, steam-driven iron bird was hovering above the world, blotting out the Sun and making terrible noises and gusts with its expansive wings (which were not like ordinary wings, because they didn’t flap up and down, rather they flapped round and round and round in a blurred circle of metallic feathers). Alice was sure she could see a large cannon fixed on the front of the bird, and perched on its back—why, it was Mrs Minus and Inspector Jack Russell!
Jack Russell shouted down to Alice, “Give yourself up! Give yourself up!”
Alice would have none of it; she would rather give herself down! She started to run, only to feel a pair of powerful hands clasp around her waist! Alice could not move at all, no matter how hard she struggled! “Get your horrible police-fingers off me!” she shrieked.
“Alice, it’s only you,” croaked a voice behind her.
“Get off me, myself!” Alice shouted to herself.
“Alice, it’s me!” replied the voice, releasing the grip. “In other words, it’s you! Twin Twisters, remember?”
“Celia!” cried Alice, turning around to recognize her automated counterpart. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere!”
“I have also been searching for you everywhere. Maybe that’s why we couldn’t find each other until now; everywhere is a terribly large place, don’t you agree?”
“I really don’t care, Celia!” replied Alice. “Can you please tell me what that hideous iron bird is doing up there?”
“That is a whirlybird,” answered Celia, “an automated police-raven. Surely you’ve heard of the phrase ‘The whirlybird catches the wurm’?”
“Well, I’ve almost heard of the phrase, but please, tell me that isn’t a cannon at the front of the whirlybird?”
“It is a cannon, and we must remove ourselves from this square. Alice, you must look up yourself.”
Alice did try her best to look up herself, folding her body into a mingle of knots, but all to no avail! And the whirlybird was spiralling ever downwards to Albert Square, darkening the shadow of itself.
“But wherever shall we remove ourselves to?” cried Alice to Celia.
“We shall remove ourselves to the Central Library of Manchester.”
“To find my history, Celia?”
“To look up yourself, Alice. Exactly so! Hold my hand…”
So Alice took a hold of Celia’s hand, only to be whisked (at a terribly automated speed!) towards the immense, circular Central Library of Manchester! It seemed to Alice that she arrived at the library almost before she set off from the Square. The police-raven did try to keep up with the whizzing young girls, but all it could do was to get itself into a right flap! In fact it was really getting the wind up itself! Alice and Celia laughed to see the fearful mechanical bird struggling in vain with the wind and the rain, and to see Mrs Minus and Inspector Jack Russell struggling to keep hold of their seats! Oh what a joyous sight! Alice and Celia then ducked into the library. (That is to say, a mutated creature—made up of half a man and half an aquatic bird with short legs, large webbed feet, and a broad blunt bill—was waddling through the door at the same time, and Alice and Celia managed to duck into the library, under the creature’s rather over-large bill!)
SILENCE PLEASE! commanded a sign above the library desk, so Celia could only whisper hoarsely to Alice, “Don’t worry, the whirlybird is too big to get through the door.”
“But won’t Mrs Minus and Inspector Jack Russell simply bring the whirlybird to the ground?” Alice asked. “And then, won’t they simply climb off? And then, won’t they simply come to find us on foot?”
“They may simply try to do these things,” replied Celia, “but they will find the library to be not at all a simple place. They will never find us here amongst the thousands of books, because, this is not only a library, it’s also a labyrinth.”
“Oh I see,” said Alice, “this library is really a librarinth?”
“Alice!” cried Celia. “I do believe you are getting used to the language of the future!”
“But I don’t want to get used to the future,” said Alice. “I want to go back to the past.”
“Actually, I quite like it here in the future,” Celia proclaimed.
“Celia! Don’t you dare say that!”
“But I do.”
“Listen to me, Celia. We are both going back to the past, together! Now, please direct me to my history.”
“We must ask the librarian about its whereabouts.”
The librarian at the desk was a large and stoutly squatted half-frog of a woman, complete with a tweed bonnet on her slimy head and a pair of pince-nez on her slimy nose. Her long, slimy tongue was flicking over the dates on the duckman’s books: “These are late, these books!” the frogwoman croaked. “These are late! These books are late back!” She then presented the duckman with a very broad and blunt bill for one hundred and fifty-seven pounds! The duckman started to quack in dismay; he started to argue
with the frogwoman. Alice and Celia were still waiting in the queue two minutes later, and getting very impatient as they listened to the quacking and croaking.
Another two minutes later the frog and the duck were still arguing.
“Oh! This is ridiculous!” cried Alice in frustration. “We might as well be queuing by a duck pond!”
“But what else can we do, Alice?” replied Celia. “After all, we are English.”
“Well I’m tired of being English!” And with that Alice butted in at the counter to ask where in the library she could find—
“Do you mind, young lady?” croaked the frogwoman. “This gentleduck is before you.”
“That’s right, no butting in, young lady!” quacked the duckman.
Alice glared at the librarian. “Do you realise, Mrs Frog, that I have been a resident in this city for one-hundred-and-thirty-eight years? Surely I’m entitled to a bit of help?”
“Alice, please…” hissed Celia.
“Celia! Will you please stop bothering me!” cried Alice. “Now, where was I…?”
“But Alice,” Celia whispered, “the police are here…”
Alice spun around! There indeed were Mrs Minus and Inspector Jack Russell, rushing through the library doors!
“Alice, quickly!” called out Celia, “grab my hand! We must find your book ourselves!”
One grab of an automated hand later, Alice was travelling at speed up some stairs and then along some winding corridors. It was such a spiralling warren of dark and circular tunnels inside the library that the twistering pair of girls very quickly managed to lose the police, and the sounds of their pursuers dwindled away. However, it was easier to lose something in the librarinth than to find anything. Each of the tunnels wound around a deep shelving of books. Each book bled into a circle of stories, and each story unwound into a maze of words. Alice and Celia went careening around the circulating corridors, looking at spines as they went, looking for the correct book.
One of the books they spotted was called Waiting for Zo-Zo, another was called Butcher in the Pie, another The Whirl Uncording to Carp. Here are some more books they saw in their search: Hatch 22, The Gnome of the Hose, Stoat Fishing in Amirrorca, From Cher to Infirmity, How to Forsake Friends and Unfluence People, The Upping Street Tears, Useless-ease, Fooligans Wake, Merde sur la Nile (in French), The Waistlined, Das Typical, The Zen of Auto-Horse Maintenance, Withering Kites, Wildhood’s End, 2001—A Bass Odyssey, The Bargain Hoods of Hay, Midget’s Children, Crêpe Expectations, The Holy Bubble (including The Mould Infestment and the Nude Jestament), Five Go Off to Damp, Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less.
“Celia, these book titles make no sense at all!” complained Alice. “Especially that last one!”
“Well you did call this place a librarinth, Alice,” replied Celia, slowing down to a standstill in yet another dusty room of books.
“Not only no sense,” stated Alice, letting go of her friend’s hand, “but also no kind of order at all!”
“You think not, Alice?”
“Neither alphabetical order by title; nor alphabetical order by author.”
“Or even, subject, Alice.”
“Exactly, Celia: no order at all! What is the use of such a random library? How can anybody find the book they want?”
“I suspect there is an order to the librarinth, Alice, otherwise how could the librarinthians locate the books at all?”
“But if the order isn’t by title or author or subject, what can it be?”
“Maybe it’s a secret order, Alice, known only to the librarinthians? Maybe the order’s waiting for us to find it.”
“But how can we do that?”
“We examine, Alice. We use logic. We take a row of books, and then we analyse them for coincidences.”
“Very well then,” said Alice, gruffly, taking down three books from the nearest shelf. “Here are three books. Analyse these, if you can!”
“I will most certainly try…”
The three adjacent books that Alice selected for Celia were called The Twenty-Seven of Spades, Descriptions of Cheese Funnels and Elsewhere in the Noonyvurt. Celia studied these three books for exactly two seconds and then announced, proudly, “Of course! How could I be so stupid!”
(The reader may like to join in the game before reading on, and pause to consider the connecting principle of the three books.)
“You mean you’ve found out how the librarinth is arranged?” asked Alice.
“It’s so obvious!”
“Well, it’s not at all obvious to me!” said Alice, rather vexed.
(Has the reader worked it out yet?)
“But surely you can see it, Alice?”
“No, I can’t, Celia. Please tell me.”
(Has the reader still not analysed it?)
“Very well,” began Celia. “The books in this library are arranged according to the last three letters in their titles. Consider the first book, The Twenty-Seven of Spades; it ends in d…e…s. Consider the second book, Descriptions of Cheese Funnels; it starts with D…e…s; and then it ends with e…l…s. Consider the third book, Elsewhere in the Noonyvurt; it begins with E…l…s. Is that not conclusive proof, Alice, of my terbo-charged intelligence?”
“It would be,” replied Alice, “except that the next book along the shelf, according to you, must begin with the letters U…r…t. And that can’t be possible!”
Celia reached up for the next book on the shelf, pulled it down and wordlessly showed it to Alice.
The book was called, not so wordlessly, Urtext Shurt.
“Well, I know what a Shurt is,” said Alice; “it’s a book by a writer of Wrongs called Mister Zenith O’Clock; but what is an Urtext?”
“Well, urtext is a German word, meaning the earliest form of a text. In other words, Urtext Shurt is an earlier version of the book called Shurt. Your Mister O’Clock must have deposited his first drafts in the library.”
“Your mind is very active at the moment, Celia.”
“I don’t have a mind, I have a mound. And my computermites are rather tingling with all the exercise. Let’s try to find the book of your life, Alice. What do you know about it?”
“I know that the book of my life is called Reality and Realicey. That means it must come after a book ending in r…e…a, and before a book beginning in C…e…y. Now what could they possibly be called? Wait a minute!” And Alice did a little jump, quite startling herself. “I have the answer! Whippoorwill’s last riddle was this: Who is it that lives between An Octopus’s Area and Ceylon’s Favourite Stethoscope? Why, that must be Reality and Realicey, mustn’t it?”
“Well done, Alice!”
“Now, all we have to do is find a book called An Octopus’s Area and a book called Ceylon’s Favourite Stethoscope, and the book in between them will be called Reality and Realicey—the story of my life!”
“This is a librarinth, remember, Alice? A book called Reality and Realicey could also be perched between two books called A Squid’s Area and Ceylon’s Favourite Teacup, or Ceylon’s Favourite Anything! In the librarinth there is an infinitude of letters and spaces. All words, however misspelt, exist within these walls. The possibilities are endless.”
“But Celia, I don’t want the possibilities to be endless, I want them to end exactly upon the place where the book called Reality and Realicey lies.”
“Stay calm, my dearest Alice,” whispered Celia then, “and take my hand; I think we might have found some help…”
The help they found was Whippoorwill the parrot, of course, whom Celia had spotted flying along a corridor. A moment later Alice was flying herself, along with her automated sister, along the twisting tunnels of the librarinth, after Whippoorwill. Around and around and around the whirl of books they went, chasing the parrot. Until, eventually, he flew upwards into the roof of the building, and there he vanished through an open skylight!
“We’ve lost him!” squealed Alice, catching her breath.
“He must have
been leading us somewhere,” replied Celia. “After all, he knew all about the area of an octopus and the favourite stethoscope of Ceylon.”
Alice pulled down the nearest book; it was called Crocus and Chairless. “Celia, this book is nowhere near to my Reality and Realicey!”
“Examine the next book along,” urged Celia.
The next book along was Essex Excess; the one after that was called Essential Modes of Rocking Chair Leathers; the next after that, Ersatz Marbles. Alice was by this time pulling out book after book after book, and casting them all to the ground! Lessons in Wonderment, Entries to Bliss, Issues of Mischief Paper, Perhaps the Curtains are Crimson, Son of the Son of Monster Magnet, Nettles and Binoculars (a User’s Primer), Mercurial Teeth and How to Shave Them, Hemlines through the Ages, Gesticulating Ogre, Great Ways to Cook Bacon, Considering Breakfast, Asterisk and the History of Disco, Scooping for Boys, Oysters in Trousers, Ersatz Trousers, Ersatz Pinafores, Rescuing Books from Libraries (a How-to Guide), Ideals in Kippers, Erstwhile Manchester…
Book after book after book…Alice pulling a storm of leaves off the shelves…
Termite Control (Advanced), Cedar Control (Moronic), Nicotine Knitwear and Smoking Trumpet Control (Advanced Moronic), Nice and Easy Does It (Advanced Moronic and Clock-Rush), Usherettes of Tomorrow.
“The book of my life is nowhere to be seen!” cried Alice, pulling out even more books, as the piles of books on the floor grew and grew. Rowing to Bleak House, Use of Loose Moose in a Kitchen, Henry the Eighth and His Sixteen Wives…
“Keep looking, my Alice,” replied Celia, calmly. “Whippoorwill surely has a plan…”