But the fact that he could even think in this way about endings that might have been confirmed in him the belief that Anna’s fate might be altered, and so it was that he began to spend more and more time in the section devoted to Tolstoy’s works, familiarizing himself with the history of Anna Karenina. His researches revealed that even this novel, described as “flawless” by both Dostoevsky and Nabokov, presented problems when it came to its earliest appearance. While it was originally published in installments in the Russian Messenger periodical from 1873 onward, an editorial dispute over the final part of the story meant that it did not appear in its complete form until the first publication of the work as a book in 1878. The library held both the periodical version and the Russian first edition, but Mr. Berger’s knowledge of Russian was limited, to put it mildly, and he didn’t think that it would be a good idea to go messing around with it in its original language. He decided that the library’s first English-language edition, published by Thomas Y. Crowell Co. of New York in 1886, would probably be sufficient for his needs.
The weeks and months went by, but still he did not act. Not only was he afraid to put in place a plan that involved tinkering with one of the greatest works of literature in any language, but Mr. Gedeon was a perpetual presence in the library. He had not yet entrusted Mr. Berger with his own key, and he still kept a careful eye on his visitor. Meanwhile, Mr. Berger noticed that Anna was becoming increasingly agitated, and in the middle of their discussions of books and music or their occasional games of whist or poker, she would grow suddenly distant and whisper the names of her children or her lover. She was also, he thought, taking an unhealthy interest in certain railway timetables.
Finally, fate presented him with the opportunity he had been seeking. Mr. Gedeon’s brother in Bootle was taken seriously ill, and his departure from this earth was said to be imminent. Mr. Gedeon was forced to leave in a hurry if he was to see his brother again before he passed away, and, with only the faintest of hesitations, he entrusted the care of Caxton Private Lending Library & Book Depository to Mr. Berger. He left Mr. Berger with the keys and the number of Mr. Gedeon’s sister-in-law in Bootle in case of emergencies, then rushed off to catch the last evening train north.
Alone for the first time in the library, Mr. Berger opened the suitcase that he had packed upon receiving the summons from Mr. Berger. He removed from it a bottle of brandy and his favorite fountain pen. He poured himself a large snifter of brandy — larger than was probably advisable, he would later accept — and retrieved the Crowell edition of Anna Karenina from its shelf. He laid it on Mr. Gedeon’s desk and turned to the relevant section. He took a sip of brandy, then another, and another. He was, after all, about to alter one of the great works of literature, so a stiff drink seemed like a very good idea.
He looked at the glass. It was now almost empty. He refilled it, took another strengthening swig, and uncapped his pen. He offered a silent prayer of apology to the God of Letters, and with three swift dashes of his pen removed a single paragraph.
It was done.
He took another drink. It had been easier than expected. He let the ink dry on the Crowell edition and restored it to its shelf. He was by now more than a little tipsy. Another title caught his eye as he returned to the desk: Tess of the d’Urbervilles, by Thomas Hardy, in the first edition by Osgood, McIlvaine and Co., London, 1891. Mr. Berger had always hated the ending of Tess of the d’Urbervilles.
Oh well, he thought: in for a penny, in for a pound.
He took the book from the shelf, stuck it under his arm, and was soon happily at work on Chapters LVIII and LIX. He worked all through the night, and by the time he fell asleep the bottle of brandy was empty, and he was surrounded by books.
In truth, Mr. Berger had gotten a little carried away.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
In the history of Caxton Private Lending Library & Book Depository, the brief period that followed Mr. Berger’s “improvements” to great novels and plays is known as the “Confusion” and has come to be regarded as a lesson in why such experiments should generally be avoided.
The first clue Mr. Gedeon had that something was amiss was when he passed the Liverpool Playhouse on his way to catch the train back to Glossom, his brother having miraculously recovered to such an extent that he was threatening to sue his physicians, and discovered that the theatre was playing The Comedy of Macbeth. He did a quick double take and immediately sought out the nearest bookshop. There he found a copy of The Comedy of Macbeth, along with a critical commentary labeling it “one of the most troubling of Shakespeare’s later plays, due to its curious mixture of violence and inappropriate humor bordering on early bedroom farce.”
“Good Lord,” said Mr. Gedeon aloud. “What has he done? For that matter, what else has he done?”
Mr. Gedeon thought hard for a time, trying to recall the novels or plays about which Mr. Berger had expressed serious reservations. He seemed to recall Mr. Berger complaining that the ending of A Tale of Two Cities had always made him cry. An examination of a copy of the book in question revealed that it now ended with Sydney Carton being rescued from the guillotine by an airship piloted by the Scarlet Pimpernel, with a footnote advising that this had provided the inspiration for a later series of novels by Baroness Orczy.
“Oh God,” said Mr. Gedeon.
Then there was Hardy. Tess of the d’Urbervilles now ended with Tess’s escape from prison, engineered by Angel Clare and a team of demolitions experts, while The Mayor of Casterbridge had Michael Henchard living in a rose-covered cottage near his newly married stepdaughter and breeding goldfinches. At the conclusion of Jude the Obscure, Jude Fawley escaped the clutches of Arabella and survived his final desperate visit to Sue in the freezing weather, whereupon they both ran away and went to live happily ever after in Eastbourne.
“This is terrible,” said Mr. Gedeon, although even he had to admit that he preferred Mr. Berger’s endings to Thomas Hardy’s.
Finally he came to Anna Karenina. It took him a little while to find the change, because this one was subtler than the others: a deletion instead of an actual piece of bad rewriting. It was still wrong, but Mr. Gedeon understood Mr. Berger’s reason for making the change. Perhaps if Mr. Gedeon had experienced similar feelings about one of the characters in his care, he might have found the courage to intervene in a similar way. He had been a witness to the sufferings of so many of them, the consequences of decisions made by heartless authors, the miserable Hardy not least among them, but his first duty was, and always had been, to the books. This would have to be put right, however valid Mr. Berger might have believed his actions to be.
Mr. Gedeon returned the copy of Anna Karenina to its shelf and made his way to the station.
CHAPTER