sweet mysteries of life

OK. Here’s one of those, oh so fun mathematical problems. There are seven books in a series, I bought them all, but of course they arrived at different times, but they all arrived. Maybe. Definitely according to my records. I read book one and kind of enjoyed it, so I ordered book two, three and four. While I was reading book two I ordered book five, six, and seven. They came in less than numerical order after book two, and I ended up reading another book outside the series between books three and four. By the time I started book five all the books were in except books six and seven. After I finished book five I was ready to start and actually began the first few pages of another book outside the series when book six came in the mail on the very day I picked up a Peter Straub paperback. I set Straub aside to read book six and book seven came in hardback version the very next day. I was settling into book six when it occurred to me that a vague reference to a previous death of a cousin in the books first chapter has now been referred to in the past tense several times by the middle of the story and actually the tale seems to be evolving around here to unknown facts from the loosely mentioned previous event.

Have you ever been reading a book and fallen asleep? Most anyone who reads does this at some time or other. I do it frequently, often dreaming about the subject matter I’ve been absorbing. But sometimes, not very often, but on some rare occasions I realize midway through a chapter that my eyes have been closed for several pages. Invariably, I am able to convince myself, though barely; that I nodded off and lost my place in the book somehow navigating backward in my unconscious efforts and upon awakening found my book open several pages from where I left off. So that it only appeared that I continued along the books pathway with my eyelids closed. This explanation train arrives in a timely fashion from common sense yet embarks on its journey to points unknown with me feeling edgy and enveloped in a sense that I am strangely gifted in the rare art of pulp fictional paperback scrying. The logical clarification hardly leaves me feeling any more sated than the arcane theory of magic and otherworldly perception.

Somehow this knowledge does not help my equation very much; it merely muddles the factoring assumptions and misdirects my course of calculations. I went back to my previously read books and inventoried the titles. Book one, check. Book two, check. Book three, check. Book four, check. Book five. Wait a minute where is book five? Book six is in my hands and book seven is the yet un-cracked hardback sitting on my nightstand with the Straub thriller patiently parked below it. So I stretch and limbered my arthritic fingers and begin counting again, one two three four five six. Six of seven books accounted for. One alleged story unread, one book unaccounted for. Basic math says one and one make two, one missing book and one missing story line seemed to equal out in my mind. My assumption would be that the missing book IS the missing story and I would of course be correct in a sane universe.

I went to the Internet and addressed my online Bookshop ‘til You Drop web page of choice and reviewed my transactions thinking to myself that clarity has finally struck the chord of truth and shown me that obviously I stepped out of sequence with my series and have yet another book to account for. I am quick to blame myself for such over sightedness as I have numerous priors in fanning this kind of flame of confusion. I returned to basics. I investigated the correct number of books in the series. Seven. Good. I Compared titles with books already in my possession. I went to the page describing the missing book and as I read the product description, my fingers trembled and a little bit of drool leaked down onto my beard as I realized the subject of this book was already known to me and in fact I was certain I had already read the story (maybe in a past life?) and I remembered with the recall of one who recently absorbed the information in considerable detail of what that adventure entailed. Now I was back to my unstable reality where uncertainty ruled the realm and I began once again from the beginning, reading the back covers of each book and reviewing the stories in my mind. When I came to book four the plot was familiar, in fact so familiar it matched the online description of book five to a tee. There you have it, book five was improperly represented with the wrong product description. That is why it seemed all too familiar! Relief and reality joined hand in hand once more to set me in a determined effort to find a sensible solution to this mystery. I turned to the back of book four and reviewed the preview of book five in the excerpt that was provided to encourage readers to buy the next installment.

The story line was certainly different, but no less familiar. I have read book five, I know it, I remember it, and my records show I received it, but I cannot find it. It is missing. I searched the house once again. I went outside and searched my pick up truck. I dug through the trashcan. This book five is now a mystery in more ways than one. So in conclusion, I have read books one through five, book six still refers to events unknown to me (maybe I mentally blocked out a few chapters of book five?) from an inferred previous tome of unknown description. Book five has fallen through the cracks of space and time and is unavailable for discernable review, my mathematical skills are in irreparable despair, and I am sitting here writing instead of reading. What would life be without a little mystery?