“Is there anything of which one can say,
‘Look! This is something new’?
It was here already, long ago;
it was here before our time.”
“I’ll need a new book soon, Joe,” he says, reclining in his burgundy leather chair.
“How’s that one you’re finishing up?” I ask.
“Meh, just okay,” he says, “It’s a nine-book series and the author seems to have gotten ahead of herself with all her characters and plot lines, like she didn’t have an ending in mind when she began. She’s rushing to tie up all the loose ends. A bit sloppy.”
“But you enjoyed it?” I ask.
“I guess,” he says. “Just something to pass the time away.”
“It’s like clockwork,” I chuckle. “When I get home, I always find you snoozing in that recliner with some audiobook still rolling. I guess you enjoy them enough to fall asleep.”
“Where I’m at in life I think I’ve earned the right to sit and read and nap away the day,” he says. “Plus, it’s like I’ve read all these stories already anyway.”
“Nothing new under the sun,” I say, “and you’re right – you definitely have the right to rest for as many days as you believe.”
We sit in silence for a moment as I sort through his daily mail, email and texts he can no longer see.
“How many books have you read in your life?” I ask.
“Oh, probably thousands,” he says, “I used to keep a tally over the years, but I’ve lost count now.”
“Have you ever reread any of your favorites?” I ask.
“No, I don’t do that,” he says. “At least not on purpose. Sometimes I’ll start a story, then a few chapters into it, I’ll remember the ending and put it down.”
“Aren’t there stories you love, though, where even if you know the ending, you want to revisit them again and again like sitting with old friends and reliving the same tales?” I ask.
“I haven’t really thought of that,” he says, “but that’s a good point.”
“I mean there’s one story you’ve told me about for years,” I say, “the one where the spaceship sang?”
“Yep, the ship that sang. One of my favorites.”
“How long has it been since you’ve read it?” I ask. “I bet you’ll get a kick out of reading it again, even if you remember the ending halfway through.”
“Well, then next time you load up a new book for me, make it that one. Good idea.”
We sit in silence some more. Most of his daily mail is worldly junk. Garbage in, garbage out. Old as soon as it was new. Nothing worth seeing.
“Do you always read science fiction?” I ask.
“Mostly but also crime detective novels too,” he says. “There’s this one author – I can’t remember his name – but he’s such a beautiful writer. I think he’s still alive too. Most of my favorite authors are dead.”
“But they’re still alive in their work,” I say.
“True, true,” he says.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever read as much as you,” I tell him, “At least not thousands of science fiction and detective novels.”
“But you read plenty, don’t you?” he asks me. “You would have to, given the work and writing you do!”
“I guess I read mostly nonfiction these days,” I say, “often the same stories over and over again. Each time something new comes out of the same old tales. It’s as though some stories are so true that they never die. They begin and end with the same types and characters, but there is always something new to find each time I sit with them – as though each character is alive and active in a way that defies time. And when I hold them dear in my heart and mind, they’re almost transfigured by something more than us, something that sings like eternity even when I know the end.”
“Well, that’s a lot,” he says.
“Sorry,” I say, "sometimes I get carried away.”
“No, it makes sense,” he says. “What have you been rereading of late?”
“This week?” I ask. “Here, let me just share a passage that jumped out at me that explains what I’m getting at.”
I get up from the couch, go back to my room, and grab a black leatherbound book with goldleaf pages.
“Isn’t that the Bible?” he asks.
“Some of it,” I say, opening to the page the gold ribbon has saved, “The end of it, everything after the Gospels from Acts to John’s Apocalypse.”
“Ah, here it is,” I say, “from the book of Revelation.”
These are the words he heard me reread, resting, well-deserved, in his burgundy leather chair:
“He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, ‘Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.’ He said to me: ‘It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End.”
Joey Clark is a native Alabamian and is currently the host of the radio program News and Views on News Talk 93.1 FM WACV out of Montgomery, AL, M-F 12 p.m. - 3 p.m. His column appears every Tuesday in 1819 News. To contact Joey for media or speaking appearances, as well as any feedback, please email [email protected]. Follow him on X @TheJoeyClark or watch the radio show livestream.
The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News. To comment, please send an email with your name and contact information to [email protected].
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