A Hammock in the Book Stacks

“They are Giant Schnoodles”

Arthur and Regina Penman, President and Secretary respectively of the A.R.C. Arthurian Readers Club had arrived at Malory Tennyson’s Cloudbank Cabin for Arthurian Studies with two huge grey dogs in the back of their car. The dogs had their heads out the windows, one on either side of the car. They looked for all the world like great grey stone gargoyles. They were greeted by Little Plump Jo, the current Artisan in Residence at Cloudbank Cabin. Jo loved dogs but she had never seen dogs like these.

“Not my idea, you understand!” insisted Arthur Penman. “I wanted a Giant Schnauzer and Regina brought us these two as a Christmas present three years ago.”

“There were no pure-bred Giant Schnauzer litters available at the time,” Regina explained.

“I don’t know why any self-respecting breeder would do such a thing” grumbled Arthur, as he opened the door to let the dogs run free. “It is just a fad, this doodling – putting Poodle into all the breeds. But no good will come of it!”

“But you said yourself, Arthur, that the Giant Schnauzer gene pool was comparatively small and could lead to inbreeding and health problems down the track” said Regina. “And a little bit of French spice never hurts.”

“Hmph! It has a diluting influence that mars the authenticity of the original, just as we see in Arthuriana!” Then, as the dogs started running toward the Fog Lake at the foot of Cloudbank Cabin, he bellowed “Fact!”

“Really?” said Little Plump Jo.

“It is his name.”

“Oh, I see. What is it short for? Factotum? Factorial?”

“Just Fact! Just plain simple fact. He is a mongrel. But, I must admit, I am very fond of him.”

And he even looks like Arthur, Jo thought, what with the salt and pepper grey beard and the craggy eyebrows. They could easily win a dog most like the owner competition. But she did not say that aloud.

“Arthur has come to do an audit of your activity and output in Cloudbank Cabin last year and intended activity for the coming year” Regina said, giving Jo a reassuring wink, as they went up the steps of the cabin.

“So, have you published yet?” asked Arthur.

“No, I have written two books and a collection of short stories, but they are not published.”

“Show me.”

Jo pulled out a large storage cube, with a feeling of unease. She produced the two finished books and another half finished one.

“And where are the short stories?”

“They are online and in files on my computer. I have not printed them all out yet. I have another half-finished book online as well.”

Arthur consulted an important looking folder. “I believe you came initially to work on a university requirement photo essay. What became of that work?”

“It was exhibited in the local art gallery.” Arthur gave a small sound of approval and made a notation in the folder.

“It is a series of twelve works of art based on my photography of the Fog Lake, and an original poem I wrote” said Jo, trying to build on the small show of approval. “I could show it to you…”

“That will not be necessary.”

Arthur began to flick though the books. “This first one seems to be not much more than a glorified writing journal” he observed.

“Well yes, the main story really starts in Book Two, where I am following the story of Elaine of Astolat” Jo explained.

Arthur began to flick through Book Two, taking time to read some sections. He made a few noncommittal, but rather negative sounding, hmph noises and laughed loudly a few times. Jo could not tell whether he approved of the writing.

Arthur put down Book Two and launched into a lengthy monologue about the caliber of previous Artisans in Residence at Cloudbank Cabin and the importance of their contributions to literature, art and music. Jo’s internal monologue was telling her that her work was being compared unfavorably to the works of these greats. He talked about the reputation of Malory Tennyson’s Cloudbank Cabin for Arthurian Studies and the responsibility that the A.R.C. Arthurian Readers Club carried in the decisions about selection of the Artisans in Residence. He seemed to be implying that Little Plump Jo had been given a fair amount of time to produce something of lasting value and should now vacate the cabin to allow another more worthy person to use it.

Regina Penman winked at Jo. “There is no set time for a residency,” she said “Sometimes it just takes some time to get into the Flow. They say T.H. White was here for over twenty years. That was before we were on the committee. It is always possible that there will be several artisans here at the same time. And it is not as if we have a huge stack of applications waiting to be processed.”

“And what is the third book?” queried Arthur.

“I have written the beginning and end but I am having trouble with the middle. It is about King Arthur’s twelve glorious wars and links each one to one of the legendary tales. Here is my storyboard for it. You can see it is divided into History, Legend, Modern retellings and My Version with coloured threads connecting the historical events to the legends and retellings. And I put Post-it notes for other events such as Arthur’s wedding so that I can move them round and see where they fit best.”

“Ah! Now you are talking!” shouted Arthur. “Describe your research methods and sources.”

“Well, Intellectual Dabrowski…”

Jo saw Regina mouthing ‘No’ and waving her hand, in a don’t mention that you talk to dogs gesture.

“And who is Intellectual Dabrowski?”

“Intellectual Dabrowski is my research assistant.”

“I do not know of Intellectual Dabrowski. What resources has he found for you? What is his position on the identification of Lucius Artorius Castus as the real King Arthur? What is his opinion about the Cadbury Camelot archaeological digs?”

“I have to admit I have not read very much of the material he has found me yet. But you can see it there on the bookcase. And he has found doctoral theses about medieval medicine for me too. I read the PDF versions online, but I could not afford to buy the books.”

Arthur scanned the contents of Little Plump Jo’s bookcase. “These are all modern books. You need to have access to original manuscripts. I can arrange for you to have writer’s privileges at The Library. You can have a desk set up in the Writers’ Room or maybe even a private corner in the Bookstacks. You can do your writing in the library with all the research materials you need immediately at hand. Doing your own research will give you much greater engagement with your subject. And then you can give a paper about research methods at the next ARC Conference.”

What Arthur was suggesting sounded completely different from Jo’s usual rather haphazard method of researching and writing.

“I don’t know what to say…” she said.

“Just say thank you!” said Regina with another wink.

Arthur went out to check on the Schnoodles.

“I think that has bought you some extra time.” Regina said.

“But Regina, I don’t work like that! I talk to Malory Tennyson and the Arthurian characters retelling the myths in the Fog Lake, with the help of my five canine writing companions, the Dabrowski Dogs. And the stories I write do not match up with the historical King Arthur and sometimes not even with the myths. And I never sit down to write in one spot for hours on end in a formal library study setting with people saying Shh!”

“I know dear, that is what I love about your writing” said Regina. “We are on the same wavelength, you and me. Why do you think Arthur named my dog Fiction! Arthur does not have the ability to talk to dogs and fictional characters. Just give Arthur this little win. Accept the offer of the library privileges. You don’t need to use it very often.”

Suddenly Regina burst out laughing. “I wonder what would happen if you insisted on taking five dogs into the library and setting up a hammock in the bookstacks and having a kettle there for making tea!”