Ian Sansom - The Bad Book Affair

Contents Here we are, then, said George, opening the creaking, paint-flaking, Tumdrum. Tumdrum. Tumdrum was not the back of beyond. No. Pearce Pyper was wearing an oatmeal sweateror at least a woolen They waved good-bye to Pearce playing his viola outside and Ach, brilliant! said Ted, again and again, after theyd left He did what? said Linda Wei, who was not only At precisely seven oclock in the morning, as every morning, Sundays were always the real challenge for Israel in Tumdrum.

The lane from the Devines to Pearce Pypers was one of Monday morning, Lindas office. Israels six-monthly appraisal. Israel, said George. Im sorry. He was awoken by the sound of banging. And it Ill tell ye what, ye dont want to be making That evening Israel stood in the queue at the Venice While Israel was doing his best for the cause of Israel managed to get an early morning cancellation with a While he drove to pick up Ted, Israel listened, as Game On! was located above Crumbz! and not far from That evening, Israel went up to the manse to visit The Retreat, as the Reverend Roberts suggested, was indeed held Israel rang Veronica.

Ted agreed to drive down to the Mournes with Israel Maurice Morris was not a bad man as such. Hed gone Here we are, then, said George, opening the creaking, paint-flaking, hinge-rusted, wood-rotting brace-and-ledge door to the former chicken coop that was now home to Israel Armstrong (BA, (Hons.)), certainly Tumdrums and possibly Irelands only English Jewish vegetarian mobile librarian. The king of Siam, said Ted, striding in. Lets have a look at him, then. Israel lay on his metal-framed bed in the middle of the room, dirty quilt pulled up around him, broken-backed books everywhere, empty bottles of wine and Jumping Jack cider stacked around like giddy sentinels. A row of broad- shouldered peanut butter jars stood lined up on top of the rickety shelves next to the bed, staring down disapprovingly at the squalor below.

Israel raised his head wearily and dismissively from his book as George and Ted entered. Quite a sight, eh? said George. Ach, for goodness sake, said Ted. Morning, Israel! said George. Israel placed his index finger on the page of Infinite Jest that he was currently reading and rereading and rereading again, looked up at his visitors, returned to the book. This what hes been like the whole time, is it? Well, I only came across him last week, said George.

I was wondering why I hadnt seen him for a while. Hed not been in the house, and I hadnt seen him leaving for work. Hmm, said Ted, going up to the end of the bed, like a doctor on his ward rounds. Whats with the auld face-lace then? I think hes growing a beard, said George quietly. Thats always a bad sign, said Ted. He might look all right with a goatee, said George.

I wouldnt have thought it, said Ted. They look all right on goats, butMaybe a mustache. Ach, no, said George. No one has a mustache these days. They went out with the Troubles. Mores the pity, said Ted.

I had a nice mustache once. Back in the day. Sorry. Excuse me? Can I possibly help you two? said Israel, rubbing his forehead as if in great pain. You do seem to have just barged into my home here. Ive brought Ted to see you, said George.

I can see that, said Israel. And do neither of you normally knock before you enter someones home? Dont ye dare get sharp with me, said Ted. The door was open, said George. Israel tutted. Bit of fresh air is what ye need in here, said Ted. Yes, agreed George quietly.

It is a bitrich, isnt it. Its damp, I think. And the chickens, maybe. Thats not chickens, said Ted. Well, his personal hygiene, said George, whispering. He has let himself go a bit, recently.

Lost the run of himself entirely, said Ted, picking up a discarded tank top thrown on the bed and rubbing it disdainfully between forefinger and thumb. I think its because of the split with his girlfriend, said George. Ach, said Ted. He needs to pull his finger out. He glanced over at Israel. Mind ye, difficult to pull your finger out if its never been in.

Hello? said Israel. I dont want to appear rude, but could you leave, please? Is that too much to ask? A little privacy here, in the comfort of my own home? Ted tensed and stared at Israel fiercely. It looked for a moment as though he might actually reach out and grab Israel and throw him off the bed, but he seemed to think better of it, and instead he turned his back on him and wandered slowly round the coop, which didnt take longit was only one roomsniffing and poking around at the books and clothes piled on every surface. T-shirts. Toby Litt. Pants. Pants.

Israels ambitious program of refurbishment for the coop had stalled some time agohis most recent acquisition, an old sofa that hed found out in someones yard, was wedged tightly between the wardrobe and the Baby Belling tabletop cooker balanced precariously on a stool. The place clearly hadnt been cleaned or tidied for quite a while. Hed always the breath of a garlic eater, said Ted, fanning his hand in front of his face in a vain attempt to dispel the rooms fumes. I dont think hes been eating much, said George. No, said Ted, removing a spoon from an open jar of peanut butter. Hey! said Israel.

Leave that alone! Thats mine! Shall I leave you boys to it, then? said George. Yes, said Ted. I think thatd be best. No problem, said George. I thought it wise to get you in, Ted. I hope you dont mind.

We were all getting a wee bit worried about him. I wasnt sure if I should have called the doctor. Dont ye be worrying about him anymore, my dear. No need for the doctor. Ill soon have him sorted, said Ted. George shut the chicken coop door behind her.

Right, ye brallion, said Ted, stepping briskly toward the side of Israels bed. What are ye on, the auld loonie soup? What? What in Gods name dye think yere doing? Im not feeling well, said Israel. Aye, right, me elbow. Lying in yer bed when theres work to be doneyer heads a marlie. What? said Israel. Right. Up. Come on. Come on.

Its no good you lying there. I cant get up, Ted. Imcultivating my mind, said Israel dreamily, stroking his beard. Like Saint Jerome. Who? Hes the patron saint of libraries. Patron saint of my arse.

You can cultivate your mind out in the van with me. Come on. He went to grab Israels arm. Israel shrank back. Get off! Im on holiday, said Israel. Ye were. Ye were.

But yeve had your two weeks off and another week off sick. Ive not been feeling well. Im not surprised, said Ted. Ye been in this stinking pit the whole time? More or less. Right. Good.

Time to get out then. Ted threw the bedcovers from Israel, scattering books and toppling wine bottles in the processmerlot and Roberto Bolao everywhere. Hey! Up! Come on, lets go. Leave me alone! said Israel. That I shall not, said Ted. Ye might be able to run rings round the others, but you cant fool me.