A Guide for the Perplexed

by Jonathan Levi

  Praise for Jonathan Levi

  A Guide for the Perplexed

  “A fable of fantastical lushness, reminiscent of the best fairy tales.”

  —Elizabeth Gleick, The New York Times Book Review

  “Seriously funny, beguilingly ambitious . . . calls to mind the fanciful storytelling flights of Cynthia Ozick and John Barth, the outrageous satire of Monty Python, and the globetrotting of Vanity Fair . . . a fabulously complicated tale of travel, exile and renewal.”

  —The Washington Post

  “Stylish and inventive . . . Levi . . . writes with a Saul Bellow-like braininess and brashness while also bearing the mark of such fabulists as Günter Grass and Gabriel García Márquez. Delightfully readable . . . vigorous, vivid, and grounded in the pleasures of the senses.”

  —Newsday

  “Provocative and entertaining.”

  —Richard Eder, Los Angeles Times

  “A stunning first novel, Levi’s Guide is at once exuberant and meditative, wryly funny, wonderfully intelligent, and astonishingly generous . . . Levi’s subjects may be serious, but his approach is far from polemical in a novel that bears comparison with Italo Calvino, Umberto Eco, and Thomas Pynchon. A novel that manages to be clever, fun, increasingly suspenseful, and, for all its intelligence and playful erudition, strangely and deeply affecting.”

  —Dow Jones News

  “For some American Jewish college students in the early ’90s Levi’s A Guide for the Perplexed was required reading . . . a fantastical romp across continents and history. Breezing together Muslim, Jewish and Christian history, Guide was a book to read and insistently pass on. As, in different eras, John Fowles’s The Magus, Alex Garland’s The Beach, or Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar had been read and then pressed as compulsory reading into friends’ hands, so reading the Guide —with its fanciful melding of New World cultures and old—marked a niche rite of passage into thoughtful adult culture.”

  —Forward

  “Levi’s audacious debut rings changes on a variety of intellectual themes while chronicling the friendship of two women, both visitors in Spain, who discover their common bonds.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “Brilliantly conceived, flawlessly executed, this extraordinary first novel uses magic realism and travelers’ tales to achieve a startlingly unique revisionist history of the discovery of America. Like a Chagall painting, Levi’s novel weaves together Jewish folk tales, dreams, violins, flamenco, and even Led Zeppelin into a rich, constantly evolving tapestry . . . Levi, a cofounder of Granta, has accomplished a stunning tour de force that shouldn’t be missed. Highly recommended.”

  —Library Journal

  “A surprisingly polished, riddling, and enchanting debut novel . . . Although Levi writes with a fabulist’s magical logic, he is firmly anchored to the imagery of the senses and emotional truth. In all, a remarkable performance.”

  —Booklist (starred review)

  “An ingenious if metaphorical twist to the events of 1492 . . . conceptually quite brilliant.”

  —Kirkus

  Septimania

  “Stupendous.” —Álvaro Enrigue, The New York Times Book Review

  “Immensely ambitious . . . Septimania has the format of a novel, but it has roots in the folk-tales of The Arabian Nights. It reaches out to epic, in the form of Dante’s Divine Comedy . . . It takes in the sad modern world of refugees and terrorism, plots and code-breakers. And it’s a love story, too. It adds new dimensions to the idea of the novel.”

  —Wall Street Journal

  “Intellectually fascinating and emotionally powerful, the tale that follows is a poignant meditation on youth, love, myth, history, and quantum theory.”

  —Chicago Review of Books

  “Reading Jonathan Levi’s new novel, Septimania, is like dancing on a moving stage; it’s exhilarating, even as you worry that your feet might fly out from under you . . . This dizzying tale is told with a delicate, playful artistry . . . the book haunted me, the way a painting does when you’re trying to figure how the artist created light.”

  —The Seattle Times

  “Septimania is unique—a whimsical tale told without whimsy and a fantasy delineated by the fiercest intellectual control.”

  —The Daily Mail (UK)

  “Some novels are so rich in all their aspects that not even a lengthy review can do justice to the myriad gifts they offer. Jonathan Levi’s Septimania is one such novel.”

  —The Jewish Chronicle

  “An exhilarating epic that crisscrosses the borders of the world and of the imagination.”

  —Haaretz

  “An ambitious and imaginative epic.”

  —Largehearted Boy

  “Levi’s idealistic novel is as challenging as it is refreshing. Boldly putting his fable forward, he is more honest than many of today’s fiction writers. His experimental narrative implicates the reader in a philosophy of science, love, sex, and religion resulting in a Whitmanian mash: hope and despair, finite detail and grandiose allusion. If you want an adventure and a bold philosophy, Septimania will expose you to a world where you become the hero, discovering the truths you knew all along.”

  —Washington Independent Review of Books

  “Read this if you liked Cloud Atlas [and] Infinite Jest . . . a book for lovers of the insanely literary form, for people who love to dream.”

  —LitReactor

  “Deliciously captivating, Septimania is the perfect balance of magically historical and scientifically impactful . . . a magical tale about love intermingled with elements from religion, science, music, and, of course, history. [R]eaders will close Septimania . . . lusting to reread Malory’s adventure once more, or twice, or maybe infinitely over and over again.”

  —Cultured Vultures

  “Jonathan Levi writes wildly ambitious novels that blend ancient history, current events, and religion to create rollicking epics . . . a highly original picaresque epic.”

  —The National Book Review

  “Septimania is a masterpiece: a rule-bending, category-smashing, delightful work of brilliance.”

  —Bill Buford, author of Heat and Among the Thugs

  “Septimania is both a compelling, fun mystery and a philosophical love story. In these pages, the musical prose combined with profound, complex ideas is masterful.”

  —Jennifer Clement, author of Prayers for the Stolen and The Widow Basquiat

  “Septimania is a love story, a kingdom, a novel of wild and rich imagination. For Levi, for his Jews, his Catholics, his Arabs, and even the Scientists of his creative universe, all roads lead to Rome. There is a lyricism to Levi’s writing that is sometimes religious, sometimes profane, but always musical.”

  —A.B. Yehoshua, author of A Woman in Jerusalem

  “Levi’s fable of love, religion and physics dances with a spirited and lambent invention, rendered in precise and often lyrically beautiful prose.”

  —Owen Sheers, author of I Saw a Man and Resistance

  “A richly imagined, complex tapestry of gleaming threads woven through the centuries to converge in a glorious epiphany. This is realism as magical as the best of García Márquez.”

  —Homero Aridjis, author of 1492: The Life and Times of Juan Cabeón of Castile

  “Septimania is a voracious novel, boundless in its curiosity and fearless in its execution. It is a storytelling feat.”

  —Juan Gabriel Vásquez, author of The Sound of Things Falling

  “An energetically brilliant, genre-defying masterpiece filled with lavish descriptions, mysteries intertwined with history and legend, and a large cast of memorable, offbeat characters . . . Although it’s a literary dream of a book, it�
�s also a storyteller’s work of magic, and a fantastically suspenseful adventure . . . told with the aplomb and smart humor of Michael Chabon and Jonathan Franzen.”

  —Booklist (starred review)

  “A thoroughly intellectual postmodern fable, wise yet melancholy, meant to be read slowly and savored.”

  —Kirkus

  “Highly intelligent, insanely ambitious, and restlessly imaginative . . . Levi’s vast creation pays off once you give in to its unique fusion of history, music, and the origin of belief in invisible things.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  This edition first published in paperback in the United States and the United Kingdom in 2017 by Overlook Duckworth, Peter Mayer Publishers, Inc.

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  Copyright © 1992 by Jonathan Levi

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.

  Grateful acknowledgment is made to Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., for permission to reprint four lines from “Stairway to Heaven” by Jimmy Page and Robert Plant. Copyright © 1972 by Superhype Publishing Inc. All rights administered by WB Music Corp. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission of Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

  Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available from the Library of Congress.

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN 978-1-4683-1454-0 (US)

  ISBN 978-0-7156-5173-5 (UK)

  EISBN 978-1-4683-1455-7

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  For Stephanie

  CONTENTS

  PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION

  ITINERARY ONE

  HOLLAND—DUTY FREE

  HANNI—CHOOS AND CHURROS

  HOLLAND—PHARAOH’S DAUGHTER

  HANNI—RAMBAM’S DAUGHTER

  MARIPOSA—A BRIEF HISTORY

  HOLLAND—THE WANDERING JEW

  ITINERARY TWO

  THE VILLA GABIROL—A BRIEF HISTORY

  HANNI—HOLLAND’S TALE

  HOLLAND—HANNI’S TALE

  HOLLAND—HANNI IN LOVE

  HOLLAND—CHACONNE

  THE ESAU LETTER

  A BRIEF INTRODUCTION

  PAPA—25 FEBRUARY 1939

  ESAU—A BRIEF RELIGIOUS HISTORY

  ESAU—THE LUTE OF KIMA

  ESAU—MY BAR MITZVAH

  ESAU—THE CAVE

  ESAU—COLÓN

  HOLLAND—KIPFERLN

  ESAU—LA RÁBIDA

  ESAU—ADRIFT

  ESAU—FLORIDA

  GRANDPA—1 OCTOBER 1919

  ESAU—NEW WORLD SERIES

  HOLLAND—SANTA ISABEL LA REAL

  ITINERARY THREE

  A NOTE FROM A READER

  HANNI—HAPPINESS

  HOLLAND—REMEMBER, REMEMBER

  HANNI—RITUAL EYE-OPENING

  HOLLAND—SANTÁNGEL

  HANNI—THE CAVE OF JACOB

  HOLLAND—¡ADIÓS, COLÓN!

  ISABELLA—FULL-ARM VIBRATO

  About the Author

  A GUIDE FOR THE PERPLEXED

  …in most treatises on the violin, a great deal of attention is paid to the manufacture of the Perfect Sound. The author strains to pass on to the student his own experience of Technique which, in combination with that indeterminate quality called Taste—and the proper instrument, of course—will infallibly produce the Perfect Sound.

  These teachers are putting the bow before the horsehair, holding the fiddle with their teeth! The proper concern of both teacher and student, before bow ever touches string, must be the Origin of the Perfect Sound itself. For how will we recognize our Sons if we don’t know our Fathers?

  —Sandor, In Search of the Lost Chord, A Brief Guide, p. 3

  PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION

  Dear Reader,

  You are traveling. You are perplexed. You want to know.

  Not just which restaurant serves the strongest margarita, the freshest chirimoya, the tenderest tenderloin, the most incendiary vindaloo; not just which hotel room cradled Napoleon, Babe Ruth, JFK, Liz Taylor, and Jim Morrison; not just which beach boasts the softest sand; which island the most perfumed breeze; which city the most lyrical opera, the tallest women, the broadest burlesque, the most compelling philosophers, the lowest average humidity and incidence of pickpocketing.

  You’ve come to the right place.

  I am the one who comes up with two on the aisle, a box for the seventh game on the first-base line, a mosque in Provo, a fifth of Jack in Jedda, a last-minute ticket (upgraded to first class) on the sold-out plane to your mother’s funeral. I am the one who moves your great-aunt’s porcelain without breakage, your miniature schnauzer without suffocation, your cares without delay. I know the schedules. I write the schedules.

  But be warned. There are no itineraries in this Guide. No three-hour signposted walks, no routes touristiques. No train schedules. No seasonal weather maps. No stars, bars, rosettes, toques, forget-me-nots, forks, or chopsticks. There are letters from readers, occasional opinions, bits of history. Subjective, subjective—I’m the first to admit.

  The current Guide contains a series of letters from three women facing a common dilemma in the south of Spain. I introduce this latest edition, however, with a note from an old friend, an old traveler, a puzzle that has introduced so many editions past.

  Dear Ben,

  I grew up in a country at war. I learned in school and at home to love my land, its trees, its flowers, its flag. When I was old enough, I fought alongside my brothers and cousins to protect the borders from our Enemy to the North. Later, as both sides tired of endless fighting, I was asked to negotiate a peace. I traveled to the North, and was treated most luxuriously and with the greatest deference. In the course of my mission, I had occasion to taste rare meats, bathe in the ocean, and fall in love several times.

  When I returned home with a treaty, I was hailed by some as a hero. But others, to my surprise, greeted me with a certain scorn, as if my interests were no longer theirs, as if I loved my country less for having been abroad.

  Shortly thereafter I was sent by my government to negotiate a peace with our Enemy to the South. Once again I received a splendid welcome. I dined on fruits that rid the body of fatigue, on nuts that rid the mind of care. I drank wines full of fabulous histories and wisdom, and lost my heart more times than I can count.

  When I returned home, with a settlement far better than my countrymen had dreamed of, I barely recognized my neighbors, so ill did they treat me. Without unpacking my bags, I set off on private business to the West.

  I have been traveling so long now that no land is new, no ocean fresh. I have seen every flower, every bird, every side of every issue, and no longer have a heart to lose. I returned to my country once to find that our old enemies to the North and South had moved south and north. Strangers were living in my town, in my house. They greeted me with open arms.

  I no longer have enemies. I no longer have friends. I set down roots, but the sun drives me away. I wander, but the moon laughs at my back. Where shall I go? How shall I go?

  To this traveler, to those of you who have been traveling for five days, five hundred, five thousand years, I dedicate A Guide for the Perplexed.

  Ben

  ITINERARY ONE

  AEROPUERTO

  PLAZA LA RÁBIDA

 
MERCADO

  VILLA GABIROL

  HOLLAND—DUTY FREE

  8.00 p.m.

  Ben Darling,

  To see Cristóbal Colón is to see the dim future of travel. Everything about it is new, newer than new—an airport designed by teenagers, illuminated by dental surgeons, accessorized and fragranced by anti-vivisectionists, and musicked by reliable descendants of the Grand Inquisitors. Halogen, zirconium, french curves. Everything shines, everything reflects, everything flows.

  Iberia, BA, and the rest of the Majors have yet to stick their big toes into the hottest tarmac on the Costa del Sol. Only the Torremolinos packages and the Marbella-bound super-specials like Air Flamenco and British Armadan have cut their Mylar ribbons and chamois-milk brie. Which is all very much what it is, seeing that my flight is an hour late. Nonetheless, sculpted chairs, adjustable table tops, and Conchita’s coffee almost write my last review for me.

  But before the review, the real discovery—Sandor is In The Can.

  Not just the interview—Histon and Duxford flew that back to London yesterday. Eight hours of evasions and half-truths, the kind of doddering, pedantic, overwhelmingly charming nonsense you’d expect from a seventy-nine-year-old hermit. On his Youth in Peru: “A tune on my fiddle bought a packet of cigarettes, a packet of cigarettes bought an hour with a girl, and an hour with a girl bought a measure of Paganini.” On his Departure to Europe: “The last time I saw Lima was from the back of a tramp steamer hauling jute from Conchin through the Panama Canal.” On Why He No Longer Plays the Violin: “Ask my fiddle.”

  In my can lies the real Sandor, the unheard Sandor, thirty-one minutes of Sandor playing the Bach D Minor Partita, his first performance for anyone in seventeen years, played for me and the Spinoza Portacam, its PanaTrac lens drawing every bit of light from half a dozen candles and the moon, a barely touched stuffed pheasant, courtesy Sandor’s remarkable María, an empty bottle of Marqués de Riscal, and two oversized snifters of the Grand Duke on the fountain behind Sandor, both backdrop and sudden inspiration for the signal event, too precious a reel to entrust to any airport, thank God some clever soul invented telescopic wheels.