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The Crock of Gold
By Stephen Herold
Sep 13, 2001 -- It's all about gossip; we do so love to hear stories about people. Writing and books are only another way to communicate gossip. Look at our intellectual disciplines: history is the history of people, sociology is the societies of people, medicine is the health of people, biography is the story of people and so on. When we read a book we are learning more about people, how they think and feel and are put together. We see broad views of the world around people and the universe they dwell in. We eagerly snap up every crumb of our voyeuristic intrusion into the life of someone real, or imagined.Given this, we seek to learn which books will excite us and touch some interior space. We crave advice and tips, we consume "loaners" and read reviews to guide our next purchase. So there are columns like this that tell you which horse to back in the sixth and which book you must read, or be square. Of course what I tell you all depends on the turnings of my mind, and you trust that I am endowed with prescience. What I really can do is introduce you to an author, a book or a subject that gives you satisfaction and a new friend. Some of the authors you will read of here are long dead; some of the books out of print and some newly found.
And so we begin today by putting a shine on an author too long overlooked -- James Stephens. In one step we can enjoy a literary gem and completely immerse ourselves into the character of a people. Stephens was one of the members of the Irish literary revival, along with Yeats, Lady Gregory, Synge and so many others. A few volumes of prose and slender volumes of touching poetry mark his career, footprints of far greater grandeur than their number would indicate. Of them all one stands out as a beacon of literature -- The Crock of Gold.
When I was visiting some Irish friends in 1979 they gave me a copy of The Third Policeman, telling me to read it and understand Ireland. Ah, what a work that was, bristling with Joycean obscurities and prolonged thoughts. But what I noticed most was that the third policeman was straight out of Stephen's The Crock of Gold and an updating of where that story ends. And so, generation after generation, Stephens proves to be one of the foundation pillars of Irish thought and identity.
Ostensibly a fairy tale concerning Irish philosophers married to wives of the fairy clans of the shee, and the pilgrimage of their two children seeking beauty and understanding, it crystallizes and exposes that inner process of being Irish and confronting the world. The great God Pan and Angus Og contend for the hearts of the Irish, and curses and riches are made and lost. What, after all, is a Leprechaun without his crock of gold? The language is rich and easy, the images touching and connecting and the characters complex and neighborly. Again and again over the years fine publications have striven to expand on this work, and they all are lovely editions. Personally I like the Robert Lawson version for the Limited Editions Club, since his whimsy and sure hand capture the work as Sheppard did for The Wind in the Willows. And yet, when I read the book, as I do almost every year, it is my battered old paperback from Victoria Station in London. The words and atmosphere alone carry me away until I dance down the street to distant pipes with those who seek The Crock of Gold.
Stephen Herold is a scholar, poet and calligrapher who spends his life creating books and running wonderful bookstores. He currently runs Books AtoZ, a digital publishing service company, and Wit's End Bookstore & Teashop in Fremont.
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