Yet Another Rewrite...

You know the most frequent comment about my book?  And not just here but in general?  "My, you certainly did a lot of research!" I'm not sure that this is a compliment. In fact, it's probably not.

What I did with my book, which I thought was new and controversial and oh-so-clever, was that instead of giving the characters Hebrew names (like Simon), I gave them Aramaic or Greek names, like Shlomo or Andreas. And instead of keeping the Latinized names of places, I restored the old Jewish names, like Arimathea became Ramathai. It is amazing what a change in name will do, because instead of having a white European vibe, it gives it a Middle Eastern one.

I also wrote in a style consistent with First Century literature. I have read First Century literature, mostly Roman, but since I don't speak Latin, I've read the translations, but still, I think the tone and syntax is there. This, however, makes for a difficult and clunky read unless one is willing to wade through the style. But what I wanted to do was write a book that actually seemed like it had originally been written in the First Century. A book for historians and intellectuals, as it were.

Furthermore, just to keep it consistent and true, I didn't quote the Bible.  I quoted the Talmud, which was being compiled at the time. Jesus wouldn't have known squat about the New Testament, but he would have known what was going into the Talmud. (And this is not to say that I have studied the Talmud, but I do have a nifty little book entitled something like "The Wit and Wisdom of the Talmud.")  I wrote several chapters regarding the different religious groups of the time, and history, and what passed for "current events" in the First Century. It was, in fact, extremely well-researched and historically accurate. Better than Josephus, because unlike Josephus, I wasn't kissing up to the new Emperor. And the book makes sense. I mean, it makes a lot of sense. It's an excellent read for people with common sense who want perspective and reject the fear-and-faith-based religions.

And so far, nobody has read it.

Okay, so that's not precisely true. My son James has read it, but he did the final editing, so he pretty much had to. My friend Dorothy has read it in one of its previous incarnation, before it reached its final form, but hasn't read it since. I sent my aunt a copy, and she hasn't read it. My other son David hasn't bothered to read it, and neither has my cousin, who was, to date, the last person to actually buy a copy.  My mother sent the copy that I had given her to her cousin in England, who criticized it and since my mother hadn't read it, she wasn't able to defend my work against her cousin's criticisms, not that she would have, anyway. And of course the people who published it, XLibris, haven't read it because that's not what they do. Their job was to take my money and produce a book. The quality of book-making is good, and I got two books published for the price of one, but still....

So I am back in the salt mine again, and this time, I am dumbing down the book. Characters have their old names back, or maybe their gentrified nicknames. I haven't decided about changing the place-names back to the old familiar ones. But the plan is to eliminate most of the historical perspective and descriptions, and to change the title to one less likely to piss people off. For the moment, I have settled on Messiah.

 It took me ten years to finish The Heretic's Gospel, and I have about a year and a half to get the revised and re-titled version up to speed so that I can publish it without getting into trouble with XLibris. It will be more readable, like The Reader's Digest is more readable than The New Yorker.  God willing, The Heretic's Gospel will still be available somewhere if one just looks for it, and God willing, people will actually want to buy and read Messiah.

Of Gods and Men

So I was watching "Atlantis" on BBC America this morning, and the King, I noticed, seemed to think that he was a god. Now, the gist of this series is this: The hero of the story, whose name escapes me, has been transported back in time to Atlantis, which bears a passing resemblance to ancient Crete and the Minoan civilization, which only makes sense since Atlantis was supposed to have been an island in the Mediterranean or possibly the Atlantic Ocean. (I, personally, think that Plato made the whole story up, but that's a whole nuther issue.)  And ancient Crete did bear a passing resemblance to a combination of ancient Phoenicia and ancient Egypt. And the ancient Egyptians and ancient Phoenicians did tend to think of their kings as gods, especially the ancient Egyptians. The Babylonians, Syrians, and other Middle Eastern sorts, also tended to have kings who thought of themselves as gods and demanded to be treated as such.

The ancient Greeks, however, did not think of their kings as gods. As a matter of fact, they made a big damn deal about it. If a king, prince, or just a mortal man thought of himself as a god, or tried to emulate the gods, or set himself up to be worshiped as a god, the real gods, according to the myths, went after him big time. Not even those few demigods who were promoted to full god-head were originally kings. Princes maybe. Illegitimate off-spring of gods and mortal women or semi-mortal women or Titanesses, usually.  But not kings. And even those kings who were considered, or considered themselves, the offspring of gods or goddesses did not get promoted to full god-head and go to live on Olympus with the other immortal beings.

By the way, as near as I can figure (thanks, Wikipedia!), in Greek mythology, only three demigods were promoted to Olympus: Asclepius, Dionysus and Heracles. The rest of them, and there were probably hundreds of them, became constellations, founded cities, founded dynasties, had poems written about them, and/or had shrines erected to them, but none of them, besides the aforementioned three, were promoted to Olympus. Of these three sons of the gods Apollo and/or Zeus, two were princes and one was a commoner, but they were so uncommon that they became the gods of healing, wine and strength, respectively.

What is interesting to note about the Greek gods and goddesses is how very human they were, themselves. They got pissed off. They got jealous. They fell in love. They fell in lust. They did not want mortals honing in on their particular specialty. They were tender with some and vindictive with others. They did not respond well to ridicule. They liked to torment some people and loved others as one would love a pet. In short, they didn't pretend to be perfect, emotionless, and as immovable as stone.

Most importantly, you could blame the gods or goddesses or Fate for whatever happened to you that you didn't deserve, and the gods and goddesses would not punish you for assigning blame to them. Furthermore, if you said the right prayers and offered the right sacrifice, you felt as though you might be able to coax them into removing their curse. I bet that the ancient Greeks were not even half as guilt-ridden and neurotic as we modern folk are wont to be.