Astle - Cluetopia

One by one, mango fill basket.

That Caribbean proverb was my mantra in writing Cluetopia, the inner voice of calm to reduce the panic, the insomnia, the disbelief Id ever promised my publisher 100 crossword stories along the century of their existence.

My basket, so to speak, was a giant sheet of cardboard. Id drafted 100 boxes into a tidy grid, the semblance of a virgin crossword somehow going to steady my pulse. Square One was obvious, the word-cross of Arthur Wynne. Then came a few more must-have milestonesthe D-Day flukes of 1944, the Beerbohm hoax of 1940, the CLINTON/BOB DOLE gotcha of 1996. After that the gaps began to gnaw. Night and day.

But I held my nerve. (Deadlines are handy that way.) I googled and tweeted. I haunted op shops and newspaper archives. Flea markets and garage sales. I raided dental clinics for old magazines. Made pathetic pleas on radio stations, in language columns. I followed leads and vague recollections. And over summer I hammered the Send button on Outlook Express, emailing the world for help.

In a patchwork way, the world responded, turning this book into a possibility. When it comes to saying thanks, Im stumped to know where to start. Maybe if I break the force into platoons, youll appreciate the campaigns scale. Lets start with the librarians, for whom every writer carries a secret torch.

I want to thank the angels of continental Europe: Kathrin Schmiedel (Germany), Valria Szeli (Hungary), Eleonora Tsvetkova (Russia), Lenka Vlkov (Czech Republic), Martijn van Wensveen (The Netherlands) and Bernard Krespine (France). Id also like to apologise to the staff at the National Library of Croatia for outlining my quest in Serbian, and vice versa for their counterparts in Belgrade.

Across the ditch Im indebted to Lona Jones at the Llyfrgell Genedlaethol Cymru (The National Library of Wales) for telling me that croesair, the Welsh word for crossword, first appeared in 1833 as a term meaning paradox. You cant make that sort of stuff up.

Closer to home, the staff at Victorias State Library and Sydneys Mitchell Library were quick to enter the quests spirit. To every archivist I pestered, from Afghanistan to Zimbabwe, Id like to say thanks. Despite your catalogues shortage of mangoes, you took the time and trouble to look.

Canadians Lori Pothier and Sara Parkes were brilliant in unlocking the story of Kingston Penitentiary. Likewise Steve Younis was a stalwart guide in the Superman vault, while Bill Hillman was brilliant in the Edgar Rice burrow. Which brings me to the translators, the great elucidators of language.

Id like to make special mention of Dr Margarita Pavlova, not only for her splendid name, but for finding the headspace in her frantic academic schedule to illuminate Nabokov and Russian game shows. Others in my corner were Angelika Stoll (who unlocked German), Andrew Godwin (Chinese), Marie Trinchant (French), Rangi Faith (Mori), Nicole Else (Esperanto) and Frederik Ekman (Barsoomian).

Lingo by lingo I was also aided in Arabic (Toula Serna and Rima Atme), Italian (Lorena and Moreno Mazzocco, Nadias mum and Barabra Amalberti), Turkish (Glce Ozktk and Libby Effeney) and Dutch (Wieb Bosma, Bruno Herfst and Henk Verkuyl).

As for the American tongue, I was guided to untold gold by T Campbell and David Steinberg. (If you dont know David, hes a teen aiming to digitise the entire backlist of New York Times crosswords with a battalion of fellow believers. Check out their progress at the Pre-Shortzian Puzzle Project online.)

Still in the States, Judith Long is a mainstay of The Nation, and the editor to enliven the Frank Lewis tale of 1975. Speaking of heroines, how can I look past the spunky Elspeth Knox, who shared her coffee and memories on several occasions?

Companion questers, if thats a word, include such amateur sleuths as Peter Biddlecombe and Big Dave in the UK, Australias Dr Kelvin Edwards (crossword tutor of the first degree) and Professor Alistair Thompson (whose campus library card I must have maxed out).

Next in line are the setters, most of whom are mentioned in these pages, yet plenty warrant particular mention. Among the champions are Tom Johnson (alias Doc, Gozo, Anorak and Didymus), Roger Squires (the ex-magician who conjured favours out of thin air), Patrick Street (Australian Crossword Club president), Coimbatore Gopal Rishikesh (better known as Rishi, or Chatuvarsi of The Hindu), Hans Christian Nygrd (my Swedish ambassador), Matt Gaffney, Frank Longo, Eddie James (Brummie and Cyclops) and the whole Lovatt clan (Christine, James and Dominic).

South Africans Jack Dunwoody and Jonathan Ancer were first-rate safari guides, while Holly Gramazio lit up the streets of Adelaide. For their breakthrough philanthropy, and individual genius, I salute Ian Humphreys and Eric Westbrook.

Maker of the ten-storey crossword Sergiy Petlyuk, was a hard man to catch, but always worth the chase. Clone that for the monozygotic twins, Kent and Kevin Young. Thanks as well to Perths Andrew Tinning for unleashing his IKEA idea. As for the parodistsAndrew Gangoiti, Doug Files and Tim Pulju: the world is richer for your rule-breaking. To the librettist Stephen Sondheim and your champion supporter David Ovenden: bravo!

Im also indebted to umpteen editorsWill Shortz, Eugene Maleska and Colin Inman to name but threeto allow readers to see what wonders have been wrought during their watches. In the same vein, Id like to underline my gratitude for all literary estates, novelists, poets, scriptwriters and other creators, for granting permission to reproduce material here. Youll find specific acknowledgements in the preliminary pages.

Equal generosity was shown by the scad of newspapers and magazines cited, and sighted, in Cluetopia, from the mainstream to the make-believe. I cant believe our chequered century romped from the New York World to The Guardian via The Daily Planet. Seems only fitting a folly like this book took a turn for the comic.

Lastly, when it came to taming the travelogue into a seamless escapade, the editing talents of Ann Lennox and Penny Mansley, and the proofreading skills of Davina Russell, were supreme, as was the in-house counsel of Tracy OShaughnessy. Thanks to Sue Hines, my publisher, for daring to think this project could fly. And three rousing cheers to anyone Ive neglected in the thankless exercise of trying to remember the 101 people to thank.

As the flyleaf tells you, this book is dedicated to my father, a man we lost en route. But if I can be greedy, Id also like to add a young East German boy called Lars from 1981, as well as every solver across the planet. Without your ardour, the sun would sink on the joyous art of setting.

David Astle

www.davidastle.com

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