FALLING INTO A HOLE IN THE CENTER OF A MIRROR

By Ben Greenman

from forthcoming collection, as yet untitled

Yesterday the Hawkins Branch Library hosted a talk by Nelson Raglin, the author of the recent Sage Business: A Comparative Study of the Great Wits and Wise Men (And Women) of the World, which he described in his opening remarks  as “a comparative study of the great wits and wise men (and women) of the world,” after which he laughed. It was not the last time he would do so. Mr. Raglin proved to be the very personification of mirth and merriment, from his ruddy complexion to his ample belly to his booming voice and, yes, his ready laugh. He stood in sharp contrast to the librarian who introduced him, thin and severe, with peregrine features, but even when she left the stage he held it with his jovial orotundity. The meat of yesterday’s talk consisted of reviewing what he called the “cross-cultural portrayal of the filled-to-capacity soul,” where he sketched out the ways in which each of the world’s great civilizations has propagated figures, either inventing fictional ones or exaggerating real ones, who convey both immense wisdom and immense bemusement that others cannot apprehend that wisdom independently and must struggle to appreciate it when it appears. “We call it WOMOWS, or Weary Old Man (Or Woman) Syndrome,” Raglin said, “and it is usually treated with a poultice of mordant deadpan.” He illustrated with a story that he said was originally from the Turkish. An old man was serving as community mediator, and a villager came to him with a complaint against a fellow neighbor. The old man heard the complaint and then rendered his judgment: “Yes, you are right.” An hour later, the other villager came to tell his side of the dispute. After listening carefully, the old man rendered his judgment: “Yes, you are right.” When the second villager left, the old man’s wife emerged from the back of the house. “Both men cannot be right,” she said. The old man considered her point. “Yes,” he said. “You are right." The audience laughed. The thin librarian reappeared. “What a diverting story,” she said, “though I had believed that it came first from the Persian.” Raglin smiled but did not say it.