had been so
successful first time round—he had felt compelled to intervene.
After some initial hesitancy, their conversation grew
easier. At some point Mr. Gedeon arrived with more tea and some more cake, but
they barely noticed him. Mr. Berger found much of his French returning, but
Anna, having spent so long in the environs of the library, also had a good
command of English. They spoke together long into the night, until at last Mr.
Berger noticed the hour and apologized for keeping Anna up so late. She replied
that she had enjoyed his company, and she slept little anyway. He kissed her
hand and begged leave to return the next day, and she gave her permission
willingly.
Mr. Berger found his way back to the library without too
much trouble, apart from an attempt by Fagin to steal his wallet, which the old
reprobate put down to habit and nothing more. When he reached Mr. Gedeon’s
living quarters, he discovered the librarian dozing in an armchair. He woke him
gently, and Mr. Gedeon opened the front door to let him out.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” said Mr. Berger as he stood on the
doorstep, “I should very much like to return tomorrow to speak with you and Ms.
Karenina, if that wouldn’t be too much of an imposition.”
“It wouldn’t be an imposition at all,” said Mr. Gedeon.
“Just knock on the glass. I’ll be here.”
With that the door was closed, and Mr. Berger, feeling both
more confused and more elated than he had in all his life, returned to his
cottage in the darkness and slept a deep, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
The next morning, once he had washed and breakfasted, Mr. Berger returned to
Caxton Library. He brought with him some fresh pastries that he had bought in
the local bakery in order to replenish Mr. Gedeon’s supplies, and a book of
Russian poetry in translation of which he was unusually fond but which he now
desired to present to Anna. Making sure that he was not being observed, he took
the laneway that led to the library and knocked on the glass. He was briefly
fearful that Mr. Gedeon might have spirited away the contents of the
premises—books, characters, and all—overnight, fearful that the discovery by
Mr. Berger of the library’s true nature might bring some trouble upon them all,
but the old gentleman opened the door to Mr. Berger’s knock on the glass and
seemed very pleased to see him return.
“Will you take some tea?” asked Mr. Gedeon, and Mr. Berger
agreed, even though he had already had tea at breakfast and was anxious to
return to Anna. Still, he had questions for Mr. Gedeon, particularly pertaining
to Anna.
“Why does she do it?” he asked as he and Mr. Gedeon shared
an apple scone between them.
“Do what?” said Mr. Gedeon. “Oh, you mean throw herself
under trains.”
He picked a crumb from his waistcoat and put it on his
plate.
“First of all, I should say that she doesn’t make a habit of
it,” said Mr. Gedeon. “In all the years that I’ve been here, she’s done it
no more than a dozen times. Admittedly, the incidents have been growing more
frequent, and I have spoken to her about them in an effort to find some way to
help, but she doesn’t seem to know herself why she feels compelled to relive
her final moments in the book. We have other characters that return to their
fates—just about all of our Thomas Hardy characters appear obsessed by them—but
she’s the only one who reenacts her end. I can only give you my thoughts on the
matter, and I’d say this: she’s the titular character, and her life is so
tragic, her fate so awful, that it could be that both are imprinted upon the
reader and her in a particularly deep and resonant way. It’s in the quality of
the writing. It’s in the book. Books have power. You must understand that now.
It’s why we keep all of these first editions so carefully. The fate of
characters is set forever in those volumes. There’s a link between those
editions and the characters that arrived here with
successful first time round—he had felt compelled to intervene.
After some initial hesitancy, their conversation grew
easier. At some point Mr. Gedeon arrived with more tea and some more cake, but
they barely noticed him. Mr. Berger found much of his French returning, but
Anna, having spent so long in the environs of the library, also had a good
command of English. They spoke together long into the night, until at last Mr.
Berger noticed the hour and apologized for keeping Anna up so late. She replied
that she had enjoyed his company, and she slept little anyway. He kissed her
hand and begged leave to return the next day, and she gave her permission
willingly.
Mr. Berger found his way back to the library without too
much trouble, apart from an attempt by Fagin to steal his wallet, which the old
reprobate put down to habit and nothing more. When he reached Mr. Gedeon’s
living quarters, he discovered the librarian dozing in an armchair. He woke him
gently, and Mr. Gedeon opened the front door to let him out.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” said Mr. Berger as he stood on the
doorstep, “I should very much like to return tomorrow to speak with you and Ms.
Karenina, if that wouldn’t be too much of an imposition.”
“It wouldn’t be an imposition at all,” said Mr. Gedeon.
“Just knock on the glass. I’ll be here.”
With that the door was closed, and Mr. Berger, feeling both
more confused and more elated than he had in all his life, returned to his
cottage in the darkness and slept a deep, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
The next morning, once he had washed and breakfasted, Mr. Berger returned to
Caxton Library. He brought with him some fresh pastries that he had bought in
the local bakery in order to replenish Mr. Gedeon’s supplies, and a book of
Russian poetry in translation of which he was unusually fond but which he now
desired to present to Anna. Making sure that he was not being observed, he took
the laneway that led to the library and knocked on the glass. He was briefly
fearful that Mr. Gedeon might have spirited away the contents of the
premises—books, characters, and all—overnight, fearful that the discovery by
Mr. Berger of the library’s true nature might bring some trouble upon them all,
but the old gentleman opened the door to Mr. Berger’s knock on the glass and
seemed very pleased to see him return.
“Will you take some tea?” asked Mr. Gedeon, and Mr. Berger
agreed, even though he had already had tea at breakfast and was anxious to
return to Anna. Still, he had questions for Mr. Gedeon, particularly pertaining
to Anna.
“Why does she do it?” he asked as he and Mr. Gedeon shared
an apple scone between them.
“Do what?” said Mr. Gedeon. “Oh, you mean throw herself
under trains.”
He picked a crumb from his waistcoat and put it on his
plate.
“First of all, I should say that she doesn’t make a habit of
it,” said Mr. Gedeon. “In all the years that I’ve been here, she’s done it
no more than a dozen times. Admittedly, the incidents have been growing more
frequent, and I have spoken to her about them in an effort to find some way to
help, but she doesn’t seem to know herself why she feels compelled to relive
her final moments in the book. We have other characters that return to their
fates—just about all of our Thomas Hardy characters appear obsessed by them—but
she’s the only one who reenacts her end. I can only give you my thoughts on the
matter, and I’d say this: she’s the titular character, and her life is so
tragic, her fate so awful, that it could be that both are imprinted upon the
reader and her in a particularly deep and resonant way. It’s in the quality of
the writing. It’s in the book. Books have power. You must understand that now.
It’s why we keep all of these first editions so carefully. The fate of
characters is set forever in those volumes. There’s a link between those
editions and the characters that arrived here with
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