Evil Publishers and Scaphism

Every time I open a book, particularly if the author is dead, I am greeted with a introduction that discusses the author's accomplishments and contributions to literature, along with a hefty dose of trivia, a minute by minute chronology of the author's life, a historical atlas contrasting the author's political world with our own, a tree diagram explaining the author's relationship to every person he ever met, a minute by minute chronology of the editor's life, and a 27 page treatise on the use of tungsten in light-bulb filaments. If that isn't enough to wear me out, then I must wade through the mire of the preface to the 8th edition, the foreword, and the author's introduction to literary theory, followed by the original foreword to the book, and a page of acknowledgments, capped off with a list of heads of estate still promoting (to their own monetary benefit) our delightfully deceased writer.

And all that before page 1.

Indeed, by this point, I have managed to make it all the way to page lxxvii, but still no fiction (unless you count the section on literary theory as fiction...I know I do). Then the greatest befuddlement of all: when I finally get to the first page of the work I intended to read, it is numbered *gasp* page 17. What happened to the first 16 pages? Guy Montag was surely at work.

So I am torn. I love the feeling of really conquering an entire book, from cover to cover, but the introductory material is so confoundedly boring that I can seldom wade through it without developing a very strong dislike for the book. Knowing this about myself, I often skip the intro and dive right in to the novel. This provides a psychological boost because even if I only read for five minutes, when I put my bookmark into the book, it looks like I have read half the book already. Good job, Jonathan! I need a little self-encouragement sometimes. But at the same time my conscience betrays me: "You haven't really read this book - you didn't even tackle the author's foreword!" So I feel guilty, but relieved, but guilty - it's terrible!

I've decided that if I ever write a book, and I intend to, soon hopefully, that there shall be no foreword, no preface - just title pages, maybe a brief acknowledgment, and then page 1 - not page 39 and a half. I think that publishers are out to confuse readers with that little page numbering trick. They are all up in their conference rooms laughing every time they pick a bizarre page number for the initial page, reveling in the confusion caused for easily baffled people like myself.

Does this bother anyone other than me? I'm curious.

I'm thinking of creating one of those obnoxious chain emails including a petition to tell publishers that they must change their ways. It will be sure to include a section like this:
"Sign your name at the bottom and forward to everyone in your address book!!!!!!!!!! If you don't, your golden retriever will die a bloody death next Tuesday - don't bring the curse of the angry Jimmy upon your household!!!!!!!!!"

But seriously, if you don't pass this blog on to everyone you know, your best friend's uncle's daughter-in-law's third cousin twice removed will have an unnaturally early death by scaphism. You heard me: death by being covered in honey and left out in the hot sun.

Thank you, Balderdash (TM, ®, ©, Ω, ∫ )