Eternal Hydra

Anton Piatigorsky

• Éditeur: Coach House Books
• Année: 2005
• ISBN:
  9781770560468
• Sujet: Letteratura
• Sous-sujet: Teatro canadese

When a young scholar finds Eternal Hydra, a long-lost, legendary and encyclopedic novel by an obscure Irish writer, she brings the manuscript to an esteemed publisher, hoping to secure an international audience for the book. But Vivian's obsession with the dead author, who has materialized in her life, is challenged by the work of a contemporary historical novelist, and she's forced to face confounding questions about authorship, racism, and ethical behavior.

Weaving between modern-day New York, 1930s Paris and New Orleans in the years following the Civil War, Eternal Hydra is a postmodern look at the making of a modernist masterpiece.

Act One

(Vivian Ezra stands alone, holding a large manuscript. She directly addresses the audience.)

EZRA: Genius is dead, I said. There’s no godlike, authorial figure behind the writing of a book. The great modernist writer doesn’t always ‘write’ in the classical sense at all. Often he relies on extensive source materials. That’s why every important author needs a definitive editor. A professional scholar is best. I am that editor and scholar for Gordias Carbuncle.

(A wealthy publisher, Randall Wellington, sits behind his desk. He leans back in his chair, intrigued.)

Randall Wellington didn’t need my introduction. But I wanted to make a good impression on this intelligent and tasteful publisher. A man who knows the meaning of art. I mean, look, here, at his office.

(Ezra indicates a coffee table with an African statue on it.) A Kasai-Sankuru figure from the Eastern Pende peoples. Warm. Unpretentious.

(She indicates two paintings: a Picasso, an Arika.) Two oil paintings in understated frames. The Picasso, bought at auction from the collection of a late baroness. The Arika portrait of Samuel Beckett was a gift from the artist.

(She indicates a bookshelf, filled with volumes.) Bookshelf: handmade, oak. All first editions. Hemingway, Woolf, Faulkner. Most are signed by their respective authors.

(She indicates a Persian rug.) A Persian pile, Sehna knots, perhaps one thousand per square inch. An arabesque design almost entirely done in silk. I suspect it’s from Kashan.

(She indicates a window.) His view of Central Park. That copper roof in the distance is a slice of the Plaza.

Here, in this office, I made my declaration: I am Vivian Ezra, Gordias Carbuncle’s representative. And I’m here to entwine my name forever with his. Forever, because of this ...

(She holds the manuscript.) Clutching the manuscript, I stood before Wellington.

WELLINGTON: Let’s cut to the chase.

EZRA: (out) He said.

WELLINGTON: You’ve got Eternal Hydra?

EZRA: I do.

WELLINGTON: That’s not possible. It’s gone, lost, kaput.

EZRA: Not anymore, it’s not.

(out) Then he looked at his watch.

(Wellington is looking at his watch.)

I’m sorry, it’s clearly not a good time ...

WELLINGTON: No, no ...

EZRA: I’ll come back ... I should come back.

WELLINGTON: It’s fine! It’s nothing!

EZRA: I can come back.

WELLINGTON: Please. Relax.

(Ezra sits.)

Eternal Hydra ...

EZRA: You’ve heard of it, I’m sure.

WELLINGTON: Yes. My father’s project.

EZRA: There are ninety-nine distinct chapters. He intended one hundred, but it seems the final chapter was never written. The novel’s composed of a series of first-person monologues. Different voices, from every corner of the world.

WELLINGTON: Like Carbuncle’s Moroccan stories?

EZRA: Similar, but with greater unity. There’s a hidden protagonist. A different character in each chapter who –

WELLINGTON: Yes.

EZRA: (out) He interrupted.

WELLINGTON: Must be long.

EZRA: Almost a thousand pages.

WELLINGTON: I’d like to see it.

EZRA: No. (Pause.) I mean ... that depends ...

(Wellington growls in thought.)

(out) He made a sound that couldn’t be good.

WELLINGTON: My father used to say that Gordias Carbuncle could’ve been one of the twentieth century’s greatest writers.

EZRA: Did he really?

WELLINGTON: ‘If only his book wasn’t lost!’

EZRA: Well, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

(Wellington looks at his watch.)

(out) The watch, again. Bad sign. He wants to get to the point.

The name Carbuncle’s a pseudonym, of course. His parents were Irish Jews. Born and raised in Dublin. He drank too much, died of liver failure on the day the Germans invaded Paris. Tragic. He was an exceptional man. A biting wit, great probity, genuine kindness and charm.

WELLINGTON: You’ve taken a liking to him.

EZRA: Well, yes, I suppose I have.

(out) What I didn’t tell him, then, was that the late Gordias Carbuncle lives with me at home. He first appeared in my dreams over five years ago, then extracted from my dreamscape and materialized in my life. Now, we walk together, talk together, jest and work and play, all our waking hours. Here he is, just now.

(Gordias Carbuncle appears.)

CARBUNCLE: Vivian Ezra!

EZRA: Ah, Gordias. Those ridiculous suits, that fabulous smile. Sometimes we huddle all night together while he whispers poetry in my ear. Sweet lines from Eternal Hydra. We take our long autumnal walks on the train tracks outside Providence. I will never get bored of this man.

CARBUNCLE: I don’t like the way he sits.

(Wellington looks at his watch.)

The way he always checks his watch. Why’s he checking his watch?

EZRA: He runs this whole place. He’s very strapped for time.

CARBUNCLE: Do we bore him? Am I a bore? You’re certain he’s the best?

EZRA: Wellington and Company’s the smartest publisher around. As it was with his father.

CARBUNCLE: It’s one of our nomenclature’s nasty truths that the namesake son of a great man remains a ‘junior’ all his life. For the borrowing of a name is like the borrowing of a soul; there is tainting in transaction. That ineffable mysterium within the original man is somehow lost in transit, leaving the second man inferior, a mere copy, a golem of sorts. I think we should leave.

EZRA: (out) Carbuncle had me worried. Perhaps I’d misjudged Randall Jr.

(Wellington looks at his watch.)

WELLINGTON: You were saying ...

EZRA: Yes.

(She takes a deep breath, looks to Carbuncle.) I’m interested in publishing the first edition of Eternal Hydra. I’ve been working on it, now, for almost six years. I’ve written a lengthy introduction, with notes and commentary.

WELLINGTON: You’ve had his book for six years?

EZRA: I’d like to discuss terms. I have a letter of permission from Carbuncle’s sole remaining relative.

WELLINGTON: Great.

EZRA: ...