Josh Glenn, who I interviewed last week about his book Taking Things Seriously, may have solved the puzzle of what “little nameless object” is produced by the factories that secured the family fortune of a wastrel in Henry James’s novel The Ambassadors.
Normally this would merit a short item in Notes and Queries or The Explicator. But in this case, the proposed solution to “the Woollett Question” appears as an article at Slate.
Next challenge: Figure out what the stolen “little object” was in Norman Mailer’s Barbary Shore.
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va 11.01.07 at 12:21 am
Actually, I think Eve Sedgwick would have plenty to say about the toothpick scenario, especially insofar as there’s a blurring between Chad-as-toothpick and Chad-as-feces in the passage Glenn cites at the end of his article.
“Chad was brown and thick and strong; and of old Chad had been rough. Was all the difference therefore that he was actually smooth? Possibly; for that he was smooth was as marked as in the taste of a sauce or in the rub of a hand. … It was as if in short he had really, copious perhaps but shapeless, been put into a firm mould and turned successfully out.”
Brown, thick, strong: sounds like feces to me. The speculation about Chad’s texture (texxture?) as evidenced by the “rub of a hand” sounds remarkably like all those hand-to-fundament erotic images Sedgwick lays out in Touching Feeling, to say nothing of Chad’s having been “turned successfully out”–phrasing that suggests “inversion” and expropriation and expulsion from the closet.
OK, it’s out of my system. I can only snark on Eve Sedgwick for so long.
John Emerson 11.01.07 at 12:33 am
Nah, it’s gotta be a mouse trap. Glad to set people straight.
“It’s a little thing they make—make better, it appears, than other people can, or than other people, at any rate, do,” says Strether. When prompted to explain further, he again equivocates, describing the business as “a manufacture that, if it’s only properly looked after, may well be on the way to become a monopoly.”
The Ambassadors, Henry James
I trust a good deal to common fame, as we all must. If a man has good corn, or wood, or boards, or pigs, to sell, or can make better chairs or knives, crucibles or church organs, than anybody else, you will find a broad hard-beaten road to his house, though it be in the woods.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, Journal
If a man can write a better book, preach a better sermon, or make a better mouse-trap, than his neighbor, though he build his house in the woods, the world will make a beaten path to his door.
Adapted version of the above by Sarah Yule. The mousetrap has been added, supposedly from Emerson’s oral versionof the saying.
The mousetrap we know was invented in 1899 and patented in 1903 (No. 744,379) by John Mast of Lititz, Pennsylvania. The world’s largest moustrap manufacturer is in Lititz.
“You should see some of the proposals that come in from mousetrap inventors,” says Joseph H. Bumsted, former vice president of the Woodstream Corporation, the world’s largest manufacturer of mousetraps, in Lititz, Pennsylvania. “They’re handwritten. They’re garbled. And their traps are almost always impractical, or unsellable. … But all of them remember that supposed quotation from Emerson. They feel it was written just for them, and they recite it as if that in itself were reason for Woodstream to buy their ideas!”
Dunkett found that all of his traps failed one after another, and was in such despair at the way the corn got eaten that he resolved to invent a rat-trap. He began by putting himself as nearly as possible in the rat’s place.
‘Is there anything’, he asked himself, ‘in which, if I were a rat, I would have such complete confidence that I could not suspect it without suspecting everything in the world and being unable henceforth to move fearlessly in any direction?’
He pondered for awhile and had no answer, till one night the room seemed to become full of light, and he heard a voice from Heaven saying ‘Drain-pipes’.
Then he saw his way. To suspect a common drain-pipe would be to cease to be a rat”.
Samuel Butler, Journals
Josh Glenn 11.01.07 at 12:44 am
Thanks, Scott. I’m also hot on the trail of the stolen crown jewels of Zembla (cf. Pale Fire). I think they’re in the caves, if you know what I mean.
John Emerson 11.01.07 at 12:48 am
That is to say:
Dunkett found that all of his traps failed one after another, and was in such despair at the way the corn got eaten that he resolved to invent a rat-trap. He began by putting himself as nearly as possible in the rat’s place.
‘Is there anything’, he asked himself, ‘in which, if I were a rat, I would have such complete confidence that I could not suspect it without suspecting everything in the world and being unable henceforth to move fearlessly in any direction?’
He pondered for awhile and had no answer, till one night the room seemed to become full of light, and he heard a voice from Heaven saying ‘Drain-pipes’.
Then he saw his way. To suspect a common drain-pipe would be to cease to be a ratâ€.
Samuel Butler, Journals
Michael Bérubé 11.01.07 at 3:45 am
Before you move on to Zembla, Mr. Glenn, could you let us know whether the ghosts are real in The Turn of the Screw? Thanks.
John Emerson 11.01.07 at 3:54 am
well, I’ve identified the original Humbert Hunbert (besides gathering all that important info on mousetraps, I mean).
Alex 11.01.07 at 11:13 am
Condoms, clearly.
Anyway, it’s really just *something that smells of work*; see Orwell on Dickens.
novakant 11.01.07 at 12:50 pm
It doesn’t really matter – that’s the whole point.
JP Stormcrow 11.01.07 at 1:54 pm
Following the links to Joe Queenan’s scathing review of the book on toothpicks which yielded the clues, I think I have found a worthy recipient for this year’s Rick Santorum/Godwin Award for Wacky Invocations of Hitler. (not be confused with the Podhoretz/Godwin Award for Depressingly Evil Invocations of Hitler)
Keith 11.01.07 at 2:12 pm
Widgets.
The common term for generic, manufactured items, be they hammers, hairpins or hounds tooth washcloths.
And the only reason this mystery has persisted is because there is no shortage of insignificant, every day things that Victorians found vulgar.
Maybe that could be Petroski’s next book; an encyclopedia (in no fewer than six volumes) of the things Victorians found vulgar and why. It’d be the most thorough catalog of items in existence.
onymous 11.01.07 at 5:46 pm
4: Caves? Don’t you mean barracks?
Josh Glenn 11.01.07 at 6:00 pm
Maybe I do mean barracks, it’s been 20 years since I read Pale Fire, I shouldn’t have tried to show off.
Michael, I have no theory about the ghosts — though I assume you’re mocking the ham-fistedness of my detective work. (It’s true.) I was going to reveal what the Figure in the Carpet really is to Crooked Timber readers, but now my feelings are hurt.
mds 11.01.07 at 6:41 pm
could you let us know whether the ghosts are real in The Turn of the Screw?
The ghosts are real, the governess is insane, and both Douglas and the narrator are lying. That much is obvious from the book’s appearance on Lost. What remains unresolved is if the fetter binding Peter Quint to the mortal realm was actually a chamber pot.
JP Stormcrow 11.01.07 at 6:42 pm
For post-publication sleuthing of fictional works it is hard to beat Thurber’s “The Macbeth Murder Mystery”. One of his best in my opinion. Conveniently available online here.
An excerpt:
Josh Glenn 11.05.07 at 4:31 pm
I *love* the Macbeth Murder Mystery, probably my favorite Thurber story ever.
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