The first page of David Markson’s copy of Inferno by Dante Alighieri:

     On which Markson placed the inscription:
     “Markson
     NYC ‘81”

—-

     Yes, another post with nothing but the classic inscription.

      And one with the exact inscription as my last post (even with the same date):
     “Markson
     NYC ‘81”

     This time though, the book is Dante’s Inferno.

     Inferno, of course, being the book which got Dante into some trouble with extreme fundamentalist Muslims in our “modern” times…

     Why? Well…
     “Dante situates Mohammed in the ninth chasm of the Malebolge for having sown division in the Church. He is seen slashed open from his chin to his anus and with his innards spilling out.
     In retaliation, Muslim fundamentalists in the early 1990s threatened to blow up Dante’s tomb in Ravenna.
     Seven hundred years after the fact.”
     Markson explained in his novel Reader’s Block. On pg. 68.

     These extremists’ terrorist threats are not the only negative comments made toward Dante in Markson’s Notecard Quartet…

     “A hyena that writes poetry on tombs, Nietzsche called Dante.” (This Is Not A Novel, pg. 16).

     “Most of Homer is trash, determined Walter Savage Landor.
     Who felt the same way about Dante.” (Vanishing Point, pg. 60).

     “Santayana’s annoyance at the perpetual tremblings and tears and fainting fits in Dante.
     This shivering and swooning philosopher—unquote.” (Vanishing Point, pg. 165).

     “Dante will always remain popular because nobody ever reads him.
     Said Voltaire.” (The Last Novel, pg. 83).

     Which all seem to amount to a sentiment expressed by a character in one of Markson’s non-Notecard Quartet novels: Going Down:
     “Dante, fuck you.”
     Found on pg. 259 of that novel.

     But going back to his tetralogy, there were also—unsurprisingly—some positive comments on Dante to be found in the Notecard Quartet as well…

     “No greater man ever walked the earth than he.
     Said Michelangelo of Dante.” (Reader’s Block, pg. 101).

     “Dante tires one quickly; it is like looking at the sun.
     Said Joyce.” (Vanishing Point, pg. 137).

     “The grete poete of Ytaille.
     Chaucer referred to Dante as—in the late fourteenth century.” (The Last Novel, pg. 28).

     The first page of David Markson’s copy of Latin Poetry: The New Poets & The Augustans by Clarence W. Mendell:

     On which Markson wrote as an inscription:
     “Markson
     NYC ‘81”

—-

     The above inscription is a fairly classic Markson inscription.

     Though he has a few ways of writing his name on the inside front cover or first page of his books, it most often appears like this.

     Mendell’s book, Latin Poetry: The New Poets & The Augustans, from which the above scan is taken, discusses such Latin poets as Lucretius, Catullus, Vergil, Horace, Tibullus, Propertius and Ovid.

     A fact you would know of these men if you have read Markson’s Vanishing Point:
     “Evidently not one of the major Latin poets in Rome was born in Rome itself.” (Pg. 89).

The poet Laura Sims is writing a piece about Markson and asked me to send a short blurb about my Markson Treasure Hunt: how I first heard about it, how I found all the books I did, what made me start posting scans, etc. I found it hard to be brief, so I ended up sending her this, which is certainly not a “short blurb,” but it was the best I could do. She’ll probably use a quote or two from it. I decided to post the entirety here…

–

Like you, I had written to David. Markson’s Wittgenstein’s Mistress and Joyce’s Ulysses were–and still are–my two pinnacles of literature. Since Markson had the benefit of still being alive, whereas Joyce had long passed, I gave a shot to writing to him. He responded to both letters, rather quickly, but also succinctly (on those infamous plain white unlined postcards of his). I’ll always regret not writing more than those two to him. I wish I had struck up a more lengthy correspondence, as you did, but I was too worried about bugging him. When I read about the fact that his books were at the Strand (from a piece in the London Review of Books, I think), I quite literally jumped out of bed and ran down to see what I could find. I knew that others had already been searching before me, that I was late to the party, so I imagined that a number of the big authors would be picked over (the Lowrys, the Gaddises, the Joyces, etc.), though I still looked, of course. I decided I had to be clever and come up with lesser known writers that I knew influenced him. I went to Conrad Aiken (who had been mentor to Lowry, who in turn had been mentor to Markson)–found Markson’s copy of his Collected Novels, his Collected Short Stories, and Ushant. Two of those I think were signed from Aiken to Markson. And then also, of course, had Markson’s own name inscribed on the first page, as with all the books he owned. I checked out Gertrude Stein, and found nothing. But then had the foresight to look under Toklas, and was excited to see that The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas had been misfiled under her name. So I have his copy of that. What luck! I thank the god I don’t believe in for the incompetence of whichever bookseller was tasked with filing that book away. Joyce’s section in Fiction, of course, had already been checked–I have no clue if anyone found his copies of Ulysses, Portrait, or Dubliners–but I looked for Joyce in the Drama section and found Markson’s copy of Joyce’s Exiles. Even though that one contains no marginalia, it remains one of my prized possessions because it is one of my two favorite authors’ copy of one of the other of my favorite authors’ books. I found a couple of Markson’s Wittgenstein books as well (also, obviously, prized possessions).

This was all in that first hunt, I think. I was running around like a madman from section to section, trying to think of the pecking order of Markson influences. But then I had to get to work. At the time, I was working at Barnes & Noble and all this treasure hunting for Markson books had made me late for work at that lesser bookstore. I remember my managers being really upset with me when I strolled into Barnes & Noble, late for work, and with two huge bags from the Strand under my arms. You’re not supposed to promote great used bookstores at the chain stores; it makes them feel inferior. I had broken a cardinal rule. They were more mad about that than the fact that I was late. My phenomenal excuse didn’t carry any weight with them either because, sadly, no one who worked at that Barnes & Noble had ever read or even heard of David Markson. Immediately when I got off work, I went back to buy more that evening. And then every day for weeks. I went through every single book in the Strand, which most people find unbelievable. But I did, it’s true, all 18 miles or however many miles they say. And not only did I go through them once, but twice. The entire store TWICE. The reason being that they didn’t put out all his books in one go, they kept putting out new ones, so in order to be thorough you had to keep combing through the sections. So months after everyone had already known about it and thought it was over, I still found his copies of DeLillo and Vonnegut and others. He’s such an asshole to DeLillo in the margins of his copy of Mao II, and I fucking love it. “What an awful couple of pages!” appears on pg. 224. “Bullshit” appears in the margins of many of the pages of Mao II.

I searched every section they had, even the ones that seemed unlikely to contain Markson books. The Fiction section I combed through hundreds of times, obviously, but even the Sports section, the Philosophy section, the Arts section, any place I could think of that might contain hidden treasure. I honestly felt like Mel Fisher. This was my Atocha. But even more so than treasure of monetary value, each new book of his I found in the stacks felt like another letter sent to my address, with personal notes, and jokes, and insights. Finally, maybe four months later, maybe longer, the well had dried up, and I stopped finding them. I ended up with hundreds. I loved those months of searching, and was sad when there were no more books to be found. The whole Markson Treasure Hunt remains one of the highlights of my thirty years of existence. I met people, fellow mad Marksonites. I helped them find Markson books as well. Some became close friends. I would have felt bad about ending up with as many as I did if I hadn’t started the blog. It sounds lame, and maybe self-righteous, but I really felt like I was hoarding them just so I could give them to the world. I wanted to preserve these important artifacts. Maybe one day they’ll end up in a library somewhere? Who knows? But for now, I’m keeping them safe, and trying to share some scans from them with the world. It’s been a while since my last post, but I was updating it every day for over a year, and then continued to update it regularly for another year or two after that. I posted something like 450 scans, if I’m not mistaken. Surprisingly, some of my best scans I still never shared though. There is just too much to share. I’d love to collect the best scans–some of which I’ve posted, some of which I haven’t–into some sort of book, and I am looking for a way to do so, but we’ll see what comes of it…

     Pg. 250 of David Markson’s copy of Man the Measure: A New Approach to History by Erich Kahler:

     On which Markson placed an X next to the following information from a paragraph about the misuse of papal power by Popes that “did not behave at
all differently from the other Renaissance princes”:
     “And Pope Leo X, the son of Lorenzo Medici, was credited with saying: ‘This story of Jesus has helped us a lot.’”

—-

     On pg. 184 of his novel (?) This Is Not A Novel, Markson made use of the above information:
     “This story of Jesus has helped us a lot.
     Allowed Pope Leo X.”

     Pg. 43 of David Markson’s copy of Conversations with Toscanini by B. H. Haggin:

     On which Markson has placed a line next to the following passage:
     “It is my impression that intelligent orchestra players didn’t regard Toscanini’s rages as mere self-indulgence by a man who could be reasonable and patient but felt privileged to…”
     The passage continues onto the next page which is not in the above scan:
     “…be unreasonable and impatient. I think they understood that he was, in his relation to music, a man obsessed and possessed, and that such a man was not rational and reasonable—not in music nor in anything else.”

—-

     Toscanini was known for his “rages.”

     And Markson made sure to mention these a few times in his tetralogy.

     “Orchestra play like pig.
     Being an Arturo Toscanini explanation of why he would not apologize to his Metropolitan Opera musicians after cursing at them in Italian.” (Vanishing Point, pg. 2).

     “Orchestra play like pig.”
     Markson repeated the line on pg. 191 of that same novel.

     “When I die, I open a bordello. You know what is a bordello, no? But against every one of you—all—I lock shut the door.
     Said Arturo Toscanini, to a recalcitrant orchestra.” (The Last Novel, pg. 1).

     But as the above scan claims:
     “It is my impression that intelligent orchestra players didn’t regard Toscanini’s rages as mere self-indulgence by a man who could be reasonable and patient but felt privileged to be unreasonable and impatient. I think they understood that he was, in his relation to music, a man obsessed and possessed, and that such a man was not rational and reasonable—not in music nor in anything else.”

     A man obsessed and possessed…

Hey all,

It’s been a while since my last post. I still have so much more marginalia to share, but having three jobs in addition to trying to finish my novel is not conducive to incessant Markson posting. That said, I’ve started looking into the possibility of making a sort of coffee table book of various scans and commentary on each scan. About half of the scans in the book would be the best of the scans I’ve already posted here, and the other half would be entirely new stuff that I never got around to posting.

If anyone has any interest in helping in this project, definitely contact me. I’m looking for potential publishing companies with any interest. I also may go the kickstarter route and self-publish the thing (if no publishers are willing to take a chance on the book). There’s lots to be worked out, but I’ve definitely started moving towards finally doing something beyond the blog with the hundreds of Markson books I was able to find with a little luck and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. Going through every book in the Strand’s supposed “18 miles of books” is still one of the best experiences of my life, and I will always look back on those treasure hunting days with an intense fondness. So if you have any ideas about publishing, feel free to drop me a line. Or if you just want to say: “I’d buy one if you made ‘em!” That’s always nice to hear too.

Also, side note, there’s a new book of Markson’s letters to the poet Laura Sims which will be coming out in April. This tumblr is mentioned in one of her footnotes. I’ll be interviewing Laura soon about her friendship with Markson and the book and what not. When that interview is published in April, I’ll post it here as well.

Als ick kan,

Tyler

     Pg. 41 of David Markson’s copy of Mao II by Don DeLillo:

     On which Markson wrote a note in the margins next to a passage in DeLillo’s novel.

     The DeLillo passage reads:
     “Years ago I used to think it was possible for a novelist to alter the inner life of the culture. Now bomb-makers and gunmen have taken that territory. They make raids on human consciousness. What writers used to do before we were all incorporated.”

     Markson’s response?:
     “Too facile.”

     He placed a line next to the passage as well, and wrote something more, under “Too facile,” but then crossed out whatever he had written.

—-

     This exchange reminds me of Markson making a similar connection between writers (as terrorists) and terrorists (as terrorists)…

     In his novel Vanishing Point, Markson quoted a passage from Jack Kerouac’s On the Road:
     “When daybreak came we were zooming through New Jersey with the great cloud of Metropolitan New York rising before us in the snowy distance. Dean had a sweater wrapped around his ears to keep warm. He said we were a band of Arabs coming to blow up New York.” (Pg. 169).

     Immediately after that passage, Markson wrote this:
     “Terrorists. Which was in fact the literary term chosen to categorize the earliest nineteenth-century female Gothic novelists.” (Pg. 169).

    And throughout the entirety of Vanishing Point, the specter of 9/11 rears its head.

    (After all, it was published in 2004, only a few short years after the towers fell.
     And was being written when the towers fell.)

    On pg. 8, Markson wrote:
    “The greatest work of art ever, Karlheinz Stockhausen called the destruction of the World Trade Center.”

    On pg. 40, Markson used the quote:
    “Teacher, look! The birds are on fire!”
    Which had been said by a young, naive schoolgirl unknowingly commenting on the bodies falling from the burning buildings.

     On pg. 79, Markson let the Author assert his presence with:
     “Practically all those interviewed in the aftermath of the World Trade Center disaster agreed that they had never confronted anything more horrendous.
     Author’s curiosity as to whether anyone thought to inquire of the writer of Slaughterhouse-Five.”

     And on pg. 111, Markson connected:
     “Jack the Ripper was left-handed.
     Like Osama bin Laden.”

     As Françoise Palleau-Papin explained in her study of Markson, This Is Not A Tragdy, re: Vanishing Point:
     “The novel also deals with current affairs, but in a roundabout fashion, as when we are reminded of the nineteenth-century definition of the word ‘terrorist’: ‘Terrorists. Which was in fact the literary term chosen to categorize the earliest nineteenth-century female Gothic novelists’ (p. 169). To move implicitly to the political definition of terrorism from the word’s former literary sense draws our attention to the power of writing. Literary terror does not kill but thrills, and, presented in its uncanny, Gothic aspect, it questions our culture. But, implicitly, Author is also concerned with the contemporary definition of terrorists and feels terror when faced with the barbarity of his times, and wishes to impart his fears and views.” (Pg. 256).

     No matter what our opinion as Readers (of Markson Reading) is of his assessment that DeLillo’s passage in Mao II on writers/terrorists is “too facile,” we can certainly agree that Markson’s wrestling with the same issue in Vanishing Point is anything but “facile.” The way the concept of terror in the post-9/11 world creeps up on you subtly by a few scattered mentions throughout Vanishing Point, and then comes to a crescendo on pg. 169 with him bringing it back to writers as terrorists is done without hammering it over the reader’s head whatsoever.

     A postcard sent to Charles J. Shields from David Markson re: the biography of Kurt Vonnegut that Shields has written (which will be published later this year).

     On which Markson wrote:
     “Dear Charles—                                                            3/29/09
     Just a few words to express regrets, again, that I couldn’t make myself available while you were here. Damn, and just a day later a gorgeous young female friend called to see if she might stop by on the weekend, and I had to tell her please, no, likewise. (Trust me, that one hurt more than putting off Charles Shields—since I mean truly gorgeous!) Hey, but let’s hope next time.
                                                                                          Best—Dave M.

—-

     This is my second posting of a notecard sent to Shields by Markson.

     A slight break from marginalia.

     But no break from interesting Markson posts.

     This is my personal favorite of the notecards Shields sent over to me from Markson because you really get a sense of the hilarious old letch that he was—and didn’t really deny being—with all the talk of his “gorgeous young female friend.”

     And why deny being?
     “Again, what but liking women the ineludible essence here, there a known remedy?”
     From pg. 6 of Springer’s Progress.

     Lucien Springer, the protagonist of said novel, who seems to closely resemble the writer.

     “Stylistic and erotic playfulness bring the reader closer to a highly colorful character, who sounds very close in spirit to the writer in his younger years, even though Markson avoids the topic of his biography in his interviews about the novel.”
     Explained Françoise Palleau-Papin on pg. 131 of her study This Is Not A Tragedy.

     “You’re an inveterate horny old man.”
     Jessica Cornford calls Springer on pg. 48 of that book.

     “I am that.”
     He responds.

—-

     This postcard is owned by Charles J. Shields. The above scan is used with his permission. Copyright © Charles J. Shields.

     The bottom edge of David Markson’s copy of The Perennial Scope of Philosophy by Karl Jaspers:

     On which Markson wrote his initials across the pages:
     “DMM”

—-

     David Merrill Markson was found dead on June 4th, 2010.

     A month later, in the first week of July, his private library started to appear in the stacks of the Strand.

     Soon after that Annecy Liddell found Markson’s copy of Don DeLillo’s White Noise.
     Which was marked up with a number of negative comments towards DeLillo and his writing.

     And then the Markson Treasure Hunt began after Alex Abramovich wrote his London Review of Books article (published August 26th, 2010).

     I began my collection the day after that article was published.

     That first day I came home with great finds like:
     – David Markson’s Gertrude Stein’s The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas
     – David Markson’s Robert Graves’ Collected Poems 1955
     – David Markson’s Conrad Aiken’s Ushant: An Essay
     – David Markson’s Conrad Aiken’s The Short Stories of…
     – David Markson’s Conrad Aiken’s The Collected Novels of…
     – David Markson’s Maxim Gorky’s Reminiscences
     – David Markson’s Bruce Arnold’s The Scandal of Ulysses
     – David Markson’s Richard Ellmann’s Ulysses on the Liffey
     – David Markson’s Richard Ellmann’s The Consciousness of Joyce
     – David Markson’s Joseph Blotner’s Faulkner: A Biography
     – David Markson’s William York Tindall’s Forces in Modern British Literature
     And a handful more…

     A day after that, in other sections of the same bookstore, certain other Markson books were removed from the shelves (by yours truly and others), and this time a book entitled The Perennial Scope of Philosophy by Karl Jaspers was discovered on the scene, inscribed with the initials DMM.

     “A week after that, in another small town in the same area, certain ranch deeds and water titles were removed from a land office, and this time a kerchief was discovered on the scene, embroidered with the initials DBM.”
     From pg. 65 of Markson’s The Ballad of Dingus Magee.
     In which the characters initials D.M. are Markson’s initials.
     Though the middle initial is different.

     D.M.M.
     David Merrill Markson
     D.B.M.
     Dingus Billy Magee

     Pg. 37 of David Markson’s copy of The World of Odysseus by M. I. Finley:

     On which Markson placed a check next to and an underline underneath the information that Hissarlik (aka Troy) lies “some three miles from the Dardanelles.”

—-

     Markson on pg. 8 of Wittgenstein’s Mistress wrote:
     “From Hisarlik, the water is perhaps an hour’s walk away.”
     Which, of course, is basically saying that it is three miles away.
     Seeing as the average person’s walking pace is about 3 miles per hour.
     Thus making a three mile walk an hour walk.