9 years for Dune, chained books, welcome

I read Dreamer of Dune yesterday, Frank Herbert's biography.

Dune was not an instant hit. As with Lord of the Rings, the publisher thought it was too long so they didn't print many. It didn't take off until the paperback caught on with the college crowd.

Frank Herbert to write Dune -- 9 years
John Tolkien to write Lord of the Rings -- 9 years
Number of those years spent rewriting, retyping -- 3
Jack Lewis to write 7 Narnia books -- 9 years
Edward Eager to write 7 Half-Magic books -- 9 years

It's wild to realize these writers grew up in a world where their own books did not exist. Tolkien never got to read The Lord of the Rings. Agatha Christie grew up without all the Agatha Christie books, without murder mysteries. Frank Herbert never got to read Dune. The Secret Garden didn't exist for Franny Burnett, or The Once And Future King for Terry White. Ted Geisel never saw The Cat In The Hat. Heinlein grew through adolescence without Have Spacesuit, Will Travel.

They each wrote the thing they desired, the thing they could sense was missing.

What it really was, is, I am missing.

I am starting to miss my own unwritten books.

What if water was scarce, wondered Frank Herbert. I mean, really scarce.

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I made a decision when I was 21 that whenever I was employed, I would buy books. A conscious choice to support the authors, and nourish myself.

If in all the world
you have but two loaves
sell one
and with the dole
buy hyacinths
to feed your soul.

The sunny small entrance of Denmark's Odin Teatret has a shelf of books on each side. The books are hardbacks without paper covers. Well-thumbed, they lay in an inviting scatter. They are all by or about the Odin & Eugenio Barba. Italian, Spanish, English, Danish, and Polish versions sprawl intermingled. Each book is chained, with a narrow old-fashioned S-linked chain, to the shelf.

Enjoy, says the shelf. Do not take, says the chain.

That feels like the Odin, like Denmark. The beautiful solidity of the "Yes." The beautiful solidity of the "No."

My friend John is a woodcarver. He carved a plaque for his home, green with fat gold letters. It says Welcome. On the back is carved Now go home.