Christopher Moore - Fool

In dealing with the geography of the play, I looked for the modern locations that are mentioned in its text: Gloucester, Cornwall, Dover, etc. The only Albany I could find is now, more or less, within the London metropolitan area, so I set Goneril’s Albany in Scotland, mainly to facilitate easy access to Great Birnam Wood and the witches from Macbeth. Dog Snogging, Bongwater Crash, and Bonking Ewe on Worms Head and other towns are located in my imagination, except that there really is a spot called Worms Head in Wales.

The plot for Shakespeare’s play King Lear was lifted from a play that was produced in London perhaps ten years earlier, called The Tragedy of King Leir, the printed version of which has been lost. King Leir was performed in Shakespeare’s time, and there is no way of knowing what the text was, but the story line was similar to the Bard’s play and it’s fairly safe to say he was aware of it. This was not unusual for Shakespeare. In fact, of his thirty-eight plays, it’s thought that only three sprang from ideas original to Shakespeare.

Even the text of King Lear that we know was pieced together by Alexander Pope in 1724 from bits and pieces of previously printed versions. Interestingly enough, in contrast to the tragedy, England’s first poet laureate, Nathan Tate, rewrote King Lear with a happy ending, wherein Lear and Cordelia are reunited, and Cordelia marries Edgar and lives happily ever after. Tate’s “happy ending” version was performed for nearly two hundred years before Pope’s version was revived for the stage. And Monmouth’s Kings of Britain indeed shows Cordelia as becoming queen after Leir, and reigning for five years. (Although, again, there is no historical record to support this.)

A few who have read Fool have expressed a desire to go back and read Lear, to perhaps compare the source material with my version of the story. (“I don’t remember the tree-shagging parts in Lear, but it has been a long time.”) While you could certainly find worse ways to spend your time, I suspect that way madness lies. Fool quotes or paraphrases lines from no fewer than a dozen of the plays, and I’m not even sure what came from which at this point. I’ve done this largely to throw off reviewers, who will be reluctant to cite and criticize passages of my writing, lest they were penned by the Bard hisownself. (I once had a reviewer take me to task for writing awkward prose, and the passage he cited was one of my characters quoting Thoreau’s “On Civil Disobedience.” You don’t get many moments in life; pointing that out to the reviewer was one of mine.)

A note on one of Pocket’s prejudices: I know that the term “fucking French” seems to crop up quite a bit in Pocket’s speech, but that should in no way be interpreted as indicative of my own feelings about France or the French. I love both. But the alliteration was very seductive, and I wanted to convey the sort of surface resentment the English seem to have for the French, and to be fair, the French for the English. As one English friend explained to me, “Oh yes, we hate the French, but we don’t want anyone else to hate them. They are ours. We will fight to the death to preserve them so we can continue to hate them.” I don’t care if that’s true or not, I thought it was funny. Or, as one French acquaintance put it, “All Englishmen are gay; some simply don’t know it and sleep with women.” I’m pretty sure that’s not true, but I thought it was funny. The fucking French are great, aren’t they?

Finally, I want to thank all the people who helped me in the research of Fool: The players and crew of the many Shakespeare festivals I attended in Northern California, who keep the Bard’s work alive for those of us in the hinterland of the Colonies; all of the great and gracious people in Great Britain and France, who helped me find medieval sites and artifacts so I could completely ignore authenticity when writing Fool; and, finally, great writers of British comedy, who inspired my plunge into the deep end of their art: Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, G. B. Shaw, P. G. Wodehouse, H. H. Munro (Saki), Evelyn Waugh, The Goons, Tom Stoppard, The Pythons, Douglas Adams, Nick Hornby, Ben Elton, Jennifer Saunders, Dawn French, Richard Curtis, Eddie Izzard, and Mil Millington (who assured me that while it was virtuous that I was writing a book wherein I aspired to call characters “gits,” “wankers,” and “tossers,” I would be remiss and inauthentic if I neglected to call a few “twats” as well).

Also, thanks to Charlee Rodgers for her patient handling of logistic and travel arrangements for research; Nick Ellison and his minions for handling business; Jennifer Brehl for clean hands and composure in her editing; Jack Womack for getting me in front of my readers; as well as Mike Spradlin, Lisa Gallagher, Debbie Stier, Lynn Grady, and Michael Morrison for doing the dirty business of publishing. Oh, yes, and to my friends, who put up with my obsessive nature and excessive whining while I was working on Fool, thanks for not pushing me off a high precipice.

Christopher Moore

CHRISTOPHER MOOREis the author of ten previous novels: You Suck, A Dirty Job, The Stupidest Angel, Fluke, Lamb, The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove, Island of the Sequined Love Nun, Bloodsucking Fiends, Coyote Blue, and Practical Demonkeeping. He invites readers to e-mail him at BSFiends@aol.com.

www.chrismoore.com

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Tosser—one who tosses, a wanker.

Trencher—a thick, wide slice of stale bread, used like a plate.

Cofishes—other fish in a group, coworkers, cohorts, etc. Shut up, it’s a word.

Sirrah—form of address, “dude.”

Portcullis—a heavy vertical grate, usually spiked on the bottom and made of or clad in iron to resist fire. Typically the inner gate of a fortress, an open grate so attackers could be hit with arrows or spears if they broke through the outer gates.

Dirk—a knife, especially a dagger, or the act of using a dagger on someone.

Farthing—the smallest denomination of English coinage, equal to one quarter of a penny.

Solar—a sitting room or parlor in the top story of a tower. The tower unblocked by outer walls receives a lot of sun, thus the name.

Blighty—Britain, Great Britain; slang.

A Natural—the “Natural” jester was one who had some physical deformity or anomaly, a hunchback, a dwarf, a giant, Down’s syndrome, etc. Naturals were thought to have been “touched” by God.

King Lear , Act I, Scene 2, Edmund.

The dog’s bollocks! — excellent! The bee’s knees! The cat’s pj’s. Literally, the dog’s balls, which doesn’t seem to be that great a thing, yet, there you are.

Chamberlain—a servant usually in charge of running a castle or household.

Barbican—a gatehouse, or extension of a castle wall beyond the gatehouse, used for defense of the main gate, often connected to a drawbridge.