John Barth - Giles Goat-Boy

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Giles Goat-Boy (1966) is the 4th novel by American writer John Barth. It's metafictional comic novel in which the world is portrayed as a university campus in an elaborate allegory of the Cold War. Its title character is a human boy raised as a goat, who comes to believe he is the Grand Tutor, the predicted Messiah. The book was a surprise bestseller for the previously obscure Barth, & in the 1960s had a cult status. It marks Barth's leap into American postmodern Fabulism. In this outrageously farcical adventure, hero George Giles sets out to conquer the terrible 
computer system that threatens to destroy his community in this brilliant "fantasy of theology, sociology & sex"--

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"Old Dr. Mayo had passed on during my pregnancy," she said, "and in the mix-up afterwards I'd had the WESCAC-man at the hospital do the regular Prenatal Aptitude Test on the baby. He thought it hadn't worked, because all the PAT-card said was Pass All Fail All; and I didn't understand it either, but when Papa and I went into the military-science stacks in the Library — to the part where nobody's allowed except chancellors and professor-generals? — I took the PAT-card along, in case it meant something. I folded it up in the baby's blanket, so Papa wouldn't know it was there; then I gave him the baby, and he put it in the Diet-tape lift and pressed the Belly -button so that WESCAC would EAT it."

"He didn't!" Anastasia cried. Then her appall gave way to confusion: "How is it I wasn't EATen, then, if you sent me down into the Belly?"

It took some while for Virginia Hector to comprehend the nature of her daughter's misunderstanding, which was of course quite apparent to me; what wasn't evident however, even when her mother made it clear that she'd been speaking of a male child, the GILES Himself, I was pleased to see Anastasia question next: how came it that she had been spared, and I condemned? Miss Hector grew vague; seemed not readily to understand the question…

"It had to be twins you had, didn't it?" Anastasia persisted. "Uncle Ira never mentioned any brother of mine — I see why, now! — but he always liked to tell how he'd helped deliver me himself…"

"Well. Yes. Naturally." But Miss Hector's tone bespoke a fuddledness.

"Then how come we weren't both EATen?"

Instead of replying directly to the question, Lady Creamhair declared sharply that no one had been EATen: the whole hope of her strategy, she said, was that WESCAC would recognize its own and not only desist but contrive my preservation when she restored me to it.

"It was a terrible risk," she admitted proudly. "An awful risk! But I was right: they never found him, dead or alive! And I happen to know for a fact he didn't die: my Gilesey's alive, this very minute! Of course, we mustn't ever tell Papa…"

Forgetting her original question now in her excitement — as did I, quickened to the heart by these disclosures! — Anastasia flung her arms about her mother (as I inferred) and confessed that she'd not only learned of her brother's existence, just that day, but had actually met him. "He's on Great Mall right now!"

"No, no," Virginia Hector protested, distracted into an odd air of serenity. "That isn't so, you see."

Anastasia laughed. "It is so, Mom! If you ever watched Telerama you'd have seen him yourself this morning, at the Turnstile Trials."

Her mother still declined to believe her — I knew well why — and began to ramble. Anastasia demanded good-humoredly to know whether she'd recognize me if she saw me.

"Well, yes, my, no, gracious. Children change so… Dear me, yes! No, I'd know my little Giles, yes indeedy; a mother doesn't forget. There was even a birthmark under his little hiney, down on his leg, a little dark circle. No sirree!"

As she went on in this vein I made use of the mirror on my stick to examine the back of my legs, and though the light was poor, and my hands unsteady, I satisfied myself that there was indeed, on the back of my left thigh, about halfway to the knee, a mark such as she described!

"I brought him with me, Mom!" Anastasia said triumphantly. "He's right outside!"

"Oh my, dear me, no…"

"Dear me, yes! And wait'll you see who he is! George?"

Considering Lady Creamhair's obvious distress, I thought it imprudent to reveal myself before she'd had time to assimilate the news of my presence in the College proper; but Anastasia, ignorant of our sore past, summoned me again. Even so I might have fled, for the present: but I heard a sound behind me and saw at the Scroll-case the white-caped figure of Harold Bray. Luckily he seemed not to have observed me. My hands perspired with anger at the sight of him. How he had got in so silently I couldn't imagine; the noise that alerted me proved to be the clack of a key against the glass case as he unlocked it. There was a large black cylinder in his other hand — the Founder's Scroll, I did not doubt, or some false copy which he meant stealthily to put in its place! Yet so brazen was he, Anastasia's call seemed not in the least to alarm him; he didn't even glance our way. The lights flickered, the crowd hummed; for half a second I considered whether to challenge him, exhibit myself to Lady Creamhair, or hide from both until a better moment. Then Anastasia opened the door, our mother clucking behind her, and said, "There you are! Did you hear it all?" She hugged my arm. "Here he is, Mom: hug each other!" That same moment she saw Bray, and joyfully invited him to witness our reunion. No help for it then: I turned to Miss Hector… Lady Creamhair… my mother… put out a hand to shake, and said, "How d'you do, ma'am. Nice seeing you again."

I might have gone on to apologize once more for having tried to mount her at our last meeting, but clearly she was hearing nothing. She opened and closed her eyes, smiled and squinted, shook her head.

"Oh no, indeed. No indeedy," she said, stunned into mildness.

"Billy Bocksfuss," I reminded her tersely, and glanced to see where Bray was. "The Goat-Boy, you know. George nowadays. I apologize — "

"Kiss her!" Anastasia insisted, drawing us together. Bray's voice clicked jovially towards us down the aisle: "What is it, Anastasia? Reunion, did you say?"

"Oh my, no," Virginia Hector said. "Oh well! My!"

"The Goat-Boy himself," Bray said. "Good evening to you, Miss Hector; I hope the noise outside hasn't disturbed you. A most upsetting situation."

He put his arm familiarly about Anastasia's waist as he spoke; even whispered something in her ear, whereat she quickly lowered her eyes and drew in her lips.

"Stop touching her!" I demanded. "Take your hands off my sister!" I blushed, whether at the term or from anger at Bray. Anastasia colored also, but clearly with pleasure, and went obediently to her mother's side.

"What's this I hear?" Bray's tone I judged to be amused.

"Goodness me," Miss Hector sighed at the same time; but the whimsicality in her voice verged upon hysteria.

"Lady Creamhair — " I began again. At once she shut her eyes fast, and set her mouth against the name. "You know who I am. You knew all along!"

"Oh no sirree Bob…"

Touching her arm I reminded her, as Anastasia looked on amazed, of our seasons in the hemlock-grove, of her endless patience and wondrous solicitude; I fully understood, I declared, why she'd done what she'd done in my infancy, and so far from thinking ill of it, thanked her from the heart for having saved my life. What grief I'd occasioned I begged her to charge to my want of sophistication, especially to my ignorance of our true relationship.

She wouldn't open her eyes. "Oh. Gracious. Hm. Well."

"But we both know who I am now!" I said warmly, and turned to defy the pretender. "I'm the GILES, and this is my passèd lady mother!" I looked to her to tell him so; but though tears started now behind her pert spectacles, she smiled and shook her head still.

"Well. Now. No. I don't suppose — "

"Really," Bray tisked at me, "you go too far! We've all been much too patient with you, I'm afraid; if you only knew what trouble you've caused today! The clockworks, and the Power Lines… Enough's enough!"

I heartily agreed, adding that directly I'd seen to the Founder's Scroll's re-placing and had passed the Finals, I meant to present my ID-card to my mother for signing, and the campus would know once for all who was the GILES and who the impostor.

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