The 13 Clocks by James Thurber

 Source of book: I own this.

 

I am a big fan of James Thurber, and devoured most of my extensive collection (figuratively speaking) in my teens and twenties. I haven’t read as much since starting this blog, mostly because I have already read a lot of it, and have been reading new things, rather than revisiting the old. Too many books, too little time, alas. You can, if you wish, read my thoughts on Alarms and Diversions. 

 

It has been some time since I read The 13 Clocks, although I did encourage my older children to read it themselves. This time, however, my youngest expressed interest in having it read to her, so, I braved the tongue-twisting phrases and did my best to read it with aplomb. (My next-youngest listened in as well.) 

 

The 13 Clocks is a fractured fairy tale, with the usual tropes: the cruel (and cold) duke, the beautiful princess, the dark (and cold) castle, the handsome and daring prince, the quest, and the comic relief. But, this being Thurber, everything is just a bit...different. And the wordplay is delicious. (More about that below.) 

 

In this case, the Cold Duke is so cold and cruel that he has frozen time itself. His thirteen clocks are stopped, and nobody can restart them. The princess Saralinda has been courted by dozens of hapless suitors, all of whom have perished after failing to complete their quests. (The duke slits them “from the guggle to the zatch” and feeds them to his geese.) 

 

Prince Zorn of Zorna arrives on the scene, disguised as a rather untalented minstrel. He is befriended by the Golux, an enigmatic old man with an “indescribable hat,” who is prone to forgetting things, making things up, and generally being unreliable. Although he is at least loyal and somewhat helpful. After Zorn sings some decidedly unflattering verses about the duke, he is arrested. The Golux vanishes, and the duke discovers Zorn’s true identity. Zorn is given the task of finding a thousand jewels in an impossibly short period of time. As this is a light-hearted fairy tale, we know he will, somehow or another, through the aid of the Golux. 

 

The beauty of this story lies in the way it is written. Thurber constantly plays with his words - very little in this story is a mere narrative. Even more than that, it is, despite its prose appearance, written in poetry. Rhymes are common, although not constant - it is perhaps like an occasionally rhymed blank verse. The rhythm, however, is unmistakable when read out loud. The book makes extensive use of approximate rhyme, alliteration, consonance, and assonance throughout, another tell that it is poetry disguised as prose. Occasionally, it rises to the level of sublime absurdity, as in the following passage, which made my kids giggle.

 

The brambles and the thorns grew thick and thicker in a ticking thicket of bickering crickets. Farther along and stronger, bonged the gongs of a throng of frogs, green and vivid on their lily pads. From the sky came the crying of flies, and the pilgrims leaped over a bleating sheep creeping knee-deem in a sleepy stream, in which swift and slippery snakes slid and slithered silkily, whispering sinful secrets. 

 

That was a tongue-twister for sure. The description of the Golux is also classic. 

 

A soft finger touched his shoulder and he turned to see a little man smiling in the moonlight. He wore an indescribable hat, his eyes were wide and astonished, as if everything were happening for the first time, and he had a dark, describable beard. “If you have nothing better than your songs,” he said, “you are somewhat less than much, and only a little more than anything.”

“Who are you?” the minstrel asked.

“I am the Golux,” said the Golux, proudly, “the only Golux in the world, and not a mere Device.”

“You resemble one,” the minstrel said, “as Saralinda resembles the rose.”

“I resemble only half the things I say I don’t,” the Golux said. “The other half resemble me.” 

 

Later, the joke about being a Device returns, after the duke discovers that the Golux has been posing as one of his spies. 

 

The Duke’s smile showed his upper teeth. “I cannot even trust the spies I see,” he muttered. His eye moved glassily around and saw the Golux. “You mere Device!” he gnarled. “You platitude! You Golux ex machina!”

 

Many of Thurber’s books are illustrated by himself, and his whimsical line drawings are part of the fun. By the time he wrote this book, in 1950, Thurber had gone blind, and could no longer draw. Thus, he turned to his friend Marc Simont (probably best known for illustrating The Year of the Boar and Jackie Robinison) to create illustrations. Thurber insisted that Simont draw the hat in a way that he couldn’t describe to Thurber. My hardback is the second printing of that original edition. It was later reissued with illustrations by Ronald Searle - which are quite good, actually. The hat in those is equally indescribable. Either set of illustrations adds to the story. 

 The Golux, his indescribable hat, and a slightly irritated Prince Zorn.

Marc Simont illustration

The Golux and his indescribable hat.

Ronald Searle illustration

I should give a warning that this story, like many of the original fairy tales (before Disney got to them…) is a bit violent. I mean, people fed to geese and stuff. So, your kids may vary. Mine have always had a high tolerance for scary stuff, and found this one hilarious rather than gruesome. 

 

One bonus illustration, from my book (Marc Simont): 

Something very much like nothing anyone had seen before came trotting down the stairs and crossed the room. "What is that?" the Duke asked, palely.

"I don't know what it is," said Hark, "but it's the only one there ever was."