About book The Man Who Was Thursday: A Nightmare (2001)
‘Humanity crushed once again’. ‘50 dead, 120 injured’. ‘Grave face of terror strikes again’. Familiar headlines scream through the pages of the newspapers each time a bomb goes off annihilating blameless lives. Through teeth gritting resilience, public outcry resonates through the deafened ears of failed intelligence and faith in the state’s law and order hangs by a thin string. As the weeks pass by rapid sketches of the alleged bombers, email links, forensic reports, collected evidence from the attacked ground and pictures of rehabilitating victims are splashed across the dailies. If by any chance the investigation comes through, anonymous visages covered with black rags are photographed outside the courtroom, readied for trial procedures, which may go on for months, maybe even years. As the days go by, life returns to normalcy (yes! It is a tricky word); everything is forgotten and the news fade until once again “humanity is crushed” by another dastardly attack. The analytical carnival starts once again. This is the time I dearly wish we had ‘philosophical policemen’ just like Chesterton describes in his book. Policemen- (officers of law), who would discover the book of sonnets and verses from where the crimes will be committed; those that recognize the intricate web of intellectual crimes. The derivation of dreadful thoughts- the human mind, so malicious and calculating camouflaged within an affluent, composed and erudite exterior. It is that very egocentric brainpower which churns out sadistic alterations from harmless verses and then picks vulnerable actors to craft that design into realism. “Evil philosopher is not trying to alter things but to annihilate them”.This book is more than a mere plot of undercover detectives and their clandestine exploration of the Secret anarchist Councilmen. Chesterton pens that a small time criminal is more of a good person. His aim is to eradicated only a certain obstacle and not annihilate the edifice. What caught my eye in one of the chapters was the elucidation of stereotyping poverty to rebellious festering. “You’ve got that eternal idiotic ides that if anarchy came it would come from the poor. Why should it? The poor been rebels, but they have never been anarchists; they have more interest than anyone else in there being some decent government. The poor man really has a stake in the country. The rich man hasn’t; he can go away to New Guinea in a yacht. The poor have sometimes objected to being governed badly; the rich have always objected to being governed at all. Aristocrats are always anarchists; as you can see from the baron’s wars”.When a bomber or an active terrorist is caught, he mostly turns out to be from an impoverished background, where his ravenous mind and mislaid faith is manipulated to find refuge in an illusionary godly abode. These are mere actors for crying out loud, chosen by the scheming selfish elements who are coward enough to remain behind the backstage curtains. The affluent as elucidated in this narration are the ones to be feared. They have an abundance of monetary resources, have sheltering capacity in far away lands, if need be and have a mind that concocts the unexpected. Where do you think the enormous funds come for fertilizing terror? I do not want elucidate detailed reports of various pathways of monetary funds wired to definite cults or “charitable” institutions that ultimately fund the immoral actions. But, the currency sure is not a bequest from the poor or some excise complements from our paychecks. The respective courtesy comes from those societal fundamentals that remain unscathed or unfazed by decree. Who do you suppose manages the advanced scientific technologies in various bombing devices? The knowledgeable elite, isn’t it? The erudite or should I say the crème de la crème of religious preachers who instead of spreading peace and equality manipulates vulnerable populace digging their raw wounds every time through words that revolt in their bleeding wounds? I could go on and on, as it angers me to see such naivety among the elements of law and order or purposefully turning a blind eye on the so-called modernists who may be responsible in concocting the ongoing mayhem of lawlessness. Why couldn’t there be some ‘philosophical policemen’ here in India or any place that incessantly plays the role of a powerless victim?Chapter 4- The Tale of the Detective is the deciding chapter that outlines infinitesimal details of who Gabriel Syme really is. Syme sneaks his way into a clandestine council of seven men, each named after a day of the week. Syme becomes the inevitable Thursday though a pact he made with Lucian Gregory ,a poet and a true anarchist. Fear catches with Syme as his path deepens into the sinister world of the other six council men; the President being the most feared of all. Chesterton throws a light on various aspects of fear that thrives within and outside us. We rebel against the only side that corrupts us. What makes a mutineer and destroy the very notion of survival? We try and run from fear and pain, until one eventually catches up and makes us susceptible to uncouth rudiments that shelter our mental nakedness. It is the most treacherous survival, if every time we need proof of familiarity to feel safe. When fear caught up with Syme suffocating his senses, he would feel protected only if a blue card ( a source of identification given to every policemen in England) was shown to him. How vulnerable was Syme to live in a world of treachery and deceit? Makes me think of all the trepidation we feel every time we walk outside our homes or travel; the security checks, the sense of familiarity that we seek in bloodcurdling situations, the proof of safety that we search or reveal; spins a web of utter vulnerability that looms within the safest corners of our thoughts. The Man Who Was Thursday is a treasure that needs to be dug up by reading between the lines of a puzzling narrative to know what Chesterton is really saying. “Revolt in its abstract can be revolting. It is like vomiting.”Lastly, if everything leads to God and when nature if dissected reveals the face of God, then should I assume that evil is illusionary? Is malevolence the creation of couple menacing minds? If God means endurance then why is such mutinous extermination carried in God’s name after all?
I lost my backpack thanks to this book.It was years and years ago, probably my first winter in Japan, and I'd picked up this book at Maruzen. I had heard about Chesterton, mainly from the dedication page of Pratchett and Gamian's Good Omens ("The authors would like to join the demon Crowley in dedicating this book to the memory of G.K. Chesterton. A man who knew what was going on.") and the title looked weird enough to be entertaining. So, I was reading the book on the train, as I often do, and I had my backpack on the floor between my feet. When the train got to my station, I stood up, still reading, and walked off.It wasn't until I had to put the book down again to eat that I realized I no longer had my backpack.This was no small problem, either - the bag had a lot of important stuff in it, not the least of which was my Palm Pilot with all my friends' addresses on it. There were also about two dozen Christmas cards in there, along with other various and sundry things. And it was a good bag, too.Long story short (too late), I never got the bag back. The staff at my school, and even one of the students, were kind enough to call the Keihan lost & found a few times to see if anyone had turned it in, but with no luck. And whoever got it didn't do the obvious thing and look at the return address on every single one of those Christmas cards, nooo....Ahem. I'm over it. Really.My point is this: beware the seductive power of this book. Beware the enchantments laid upon it, and the dreamlike web that it weaves. For if you let it, this book will enrapture you, and gods help you if that happens.The story is one that sucks you in almost from the first page, when two passionate poets argue the worth and detriment of society. Should it be torn down, and let chaos reign in the world? Is order the true glory of humanity, the crowning jewel of mankind? Should the existing paradigm by praised or destroyed, and is he who advocates the path of anarchy true to that path?From that moment, that confrontation of poet-philosophers, we are drawn into a dark heart of true anarchy, where no one can be trusted to be who he appears to be. And not even the protagonist himself can be absolutely sure where his path will end.Needless to say, I think this book was awesome on many levels. The whole thing reads like a dream, moving in and out of locales with odd fluidity, and it's honestly hard to put it down. It has a great cast of characters, each one distinct and interesting and worth your attention, and a great ending that, while not making a whole lot of sense, is entirely fitting.What's really interesting is the modern applicability of this story. Its major theme is that of law versus anarchy, and when Chesterton wrote this back one hundred years ago in 1908 the anarchist movement was seen as a real threat. These people were not the angry kids, spray-painting Anarchy signs all over the place and listening to punk rock. The fringe radicals of the Anarchist movement advocated violence. They liked dynamite and struck terror in the hearts of the citizenry, much in the way that terrorists still do today. And like modern terrorists, they were driven by a twisted and dark ideology which placed their own motivations above society. In the world that Chesterton has made, the Law is in a perpetual battle with the forces of chaos, the dark and shadowy enemies who are always out to destroy us.Sound familiar?The hunt for terrorists is a great plot for any writer, and hundreds of them - good and bad - have used this trope as a way of telling a story. Chesterton, however, reached into the heart of that idea and found the uneasy twist that we are not always willing to deal with. He found the Nietzschean paradox about what happens when you battle monsters, and saw that it could very well be true. He has shown us that it is dangerous to act without knowing the truth, even if the truth isn't what you want it to be.Neil and Terry were right - Chesterton knew what was going on. This book is just as relevant today as it was a century ago, even if Chesterton never meant it to be. No matter what the subtitle to the book may be, and no matter how he may have meant it, the book is still valuable to us. Well worth reading.
Do You like book The Man Who Was Thursday: A Nightmare (2001)?
Θα το πω, το ξέρω ότι είναι αδόκιμο -ειδικά για ένα βιβλιοφιλικό site- αλλά θα το πω: "Αυτό το βιβλίο με άφησε μ..α"! Ξεκινάει κάπως, προχωράει καλύτερα και τελειώνει με το στόμα μου ανοιχτό. Εγώ το εξέλαβα ως ένα μεγάλο αστείο και μπορεί τελικά αυτό να είναι το μεγάλο ατού του. Δε θα πω άλλα γιατί μπορεί να θεωρηθούν spoilers (αν και από ένα σημείο και μετά υποψιάζεσαι πού το πάει και εκεί, σ'αυτήν την εξέλιξη, βρίσκεται το αστείο κατά τη γνώμη μου)!!!4 αστεράκια μόνο επειδή το στιλ γραφής φανερώνει την ηλικία του βιβλίου. Κατά τ'άλλα, 5 αστεράκια και ένα χαμόγελο στη μούρη μου :-)Υ.Γ: Γράφοντας αυτά, ξαναδιάβασα τον τίτλο του βιβλίου και πρόσεξα κάτι στο οποίο δεν είχα δώσει πολλή σημασία στην πορεία της ανάγνωσης...
—GeorgeD
To be honest, I'm still trying to get my head around the book's ending, where the wheels-within-wheels machinations of the anarchists and the special police squad dedicated to eradicating them come to an earth-shattering finale.Or does it...The subtitle of the novel "A Nightmare," may not be entirely figurative.And then there's an underlying idea that we're dealing with fundamental forces of the universe which becomes explicit in the final chapter (Professor Sunday is clearly a God figure, the other members of the anarchist cabal are dressed up as representatives of the six days of Creation and there's even a Satan figure who pops up).However I end up "digesting" the ending, I did have fun getting there. Chesterton's writing in this small novel is sprightly and moves along quickly. He's a master of descriptive prose and there are some wonderful passages where his characters discuss anarchism vs. law. For example:You've got that eternal idiotic idea that if anarchy came it would come from the poor. Why should it? The poor have been rebels, but they have never been anarchists; they have more interest than anyone else in there being some decent government. The poor man really has a stake in the country. The rich man hasn't; he can go away to New Guinea in a yacht. The poor have sometimes objected to being governed badly; the rich have always objected to being governed at all.
—Terence
Why, oh why, does Chesterton confuse me so? At first this book appeared to start as a mystery. Two poets meet in Saffron Park, one, Lucian Gregory, a creative anarchist, the other, Gabriel Syme, a conservative poet and undercover police detective. By his wit and resources, Syme infiltrates the anarchist's group called the Central Anarchist Council, getting himself named one of its seven members, christened "Thursday". Yet can he stop the assassination attempt the group is planning and expose this dastardly anarchical organization?The book is much more than a mystery, which readily becomes apparent as the reader makes his way through the entertaining yet confusing prose. There was an initial discussion about anarchy and art, yet I soon realized that the two poets were comparing anarchy and law. As I read my way through, various questions arose. Why were the council members named after the days of the week? Does this point towards some sort of creation story? Why do all the members who appear evil are not as they seem? What are they really fighting against? Why is the subtitle "A Nightmare"? And what was the point of Syme's promise to Gregory? It is mentioned numerous times so it should have some importance. Yet the big question that hangs over the characters and the reader alike is: Who is the leader of the group, Sunday? The Professor, named Friday, reveals:"I confess that I should feel a bit afraid of asking Sunday who he really is." "Why," asked the Secretary, "for fear of bombs?" "No," said the Professor, "for fear that he might tell me."In one review, the reviewer claimed that Sunday represents Nature. Well, perhaps. He is both benign and frightening, as this description shows:"You would not know [his name] …… That is his greatness. Caesar and Napoleon put all their genius into being heard of, and they were heard of. He puts all his genius into not being heard of, and his is not heard of. But you cannot be for five minutes in the room with him without feeling that Caesar and Napoleon would have been children in his hands."Sunday's words about himself are even more chilling:"Since the beginning of the world all men have hunted me like a wolf ---- kings and sages, and poets and law-givers, all the churches, and all the philosophers. But I have never been caught yet, and the skies will fall in the time I turn to bay. I have given them a good run for their money ………. There's one thing I'll tell you though about who I am. I am the man in the dark room, who made you all policemen."After its publication in 1908, The Man Who Was Thursday came under a storm of critical approval. Frighteningly complex, it has been hailed as "amazingly clever", "shamelessly beautiful prose", "a remarkable acrobatic performance" and "a scurrying, door-slamming farce that ends like a chapter in the Apocalypse." One reader declared himself "dazed" at the end of it, which perfectly described my puzzled demeanor as I closed the last page.As you see, reading the book brought about more questions than answers, so instead I will leave you with a taste of what others have said about this novel:"Roughly speaking, it's about anarchists …… And roughly speaking, it's a mystery story. It can be guaranteed that you will never, never guess the solution until you get to the end ---- it is even feared that you may not guess it then. You may never guess what The Man Who Was Thursday is about. But definitely, if you don't, you'll ask. " ~ Orson Welles ~ "…… mystery and allegory take their turn in the scene. Life, huge, shapeless, cruel and loving, killing and saving, full of antitheses, appearing to each one under a different aspect, measuring each man according to the strength of his soul, turns its strange face upon us. Life, whose soul is law, nature, whose expression is law, confront the frantic lawlessness of struggling man ---- and behold, those very struggles prove to be based on law again. And when at the last you sit on the thrones with the Council of Days, you see the mad, miraculous world dance by, moving to a harmony none the less invincible because only half heard." ~ Hildegarde Hawthorne ~I highly recommend this book to ……….. well, to anyone! Read it as a mystery, read it as a commentary, read it as philosophy, read it as a fantasy, read it as theology ---- it has something for everyone. Perhaps it should be described as a mystery without end, a true symphony of brilliance by Chesterton, in which nothing is ever how it seems!If you've read The Man Who Was Thursday, what do you think the story was about?
—Cleo
