Dear Marion,

My apologies for inundating you with yet more prose,
but I'd like you to have a chance at abstracts of my
current fiction which I prepared in response to prodding
from my friend Cynthia Behrman. Please feel no obligation
to read them, not to speak of commenting on them. At the
rate at which I've been writing in the past two or three
days, I should get Das einundvierzigste Kapitel on my
website by the time we start for Belmont in mid October.
If I've sent any of this to you before, please forgive me.

Jochen
 
=====================================

About my novel: Progress is slow, but much is happening.
The two policemen, Buddy and Billy, who are helping me out,
have carted Mengs and Magus to the police-station jail in an
improvised contraption: a flat bed truck on which a large cage has
been mounted. - On "The Island" anything goes. - During the bumpy ride
through the quaint historic cobblestone streets, Mengs and Magus 
have been shackled, feet to the floor, wrists to the walls, while
balancing themselves on hard wooden benches. Now, having arrived in
the police station parkinglot, Buddy has opened the cage, Billy has
climbed into it to unshackle the prisoners and to direct them to
jump out onto the pavement where Buddy is waiting to resume custody.
Joachim Magus, young and agile as he is, complies, but Mengs,
a generation older, pauses at the latch, looks down at the all too
distant pavement, and hesitates. He is afaid, afraid of falling,
afraid of breaking a leg. He stands in the opening of the cage,
unresponsive to Buddy's commands that he jump immediately, or else.
When Mengs, frozen with fear, fails to move, Buddy's temper, which
he has always had trouble keeping under control, erupts into a torrent
of shouted abuse and vulgarity. Summer visitors to The Island flock
to the scene and block the street. It's greater entertainment than they
would ever have dreamed of seeing. Finally Buddy, at the end of his
tether draws his pistol, and points it at Mengs. Seeing Buddy's 
uncontrolled anger, it's Billy's, the other policeman's, turn to become
frightened. Billy pulls from his pants pocket a small oblong device
called a "fob" and presses the PANIC button. (I learned about PANIC
buttons only last month. Finally some benefit from buying that fancy
new car.) The ensuing pandemonium that my mind conjures up, far outstrips
the imagination of the Chrysler engineers who designed the gadget. Not
only does the horn of the police truck start blaring, its headlights,
tail lights, blue lights, red lights start flashing, but the sirens in the
turret of the police station begin to wail, as do those on top of the
fire station, the doors of the firestation open automatically and the
engines of all police cars and fire trucks start by themselves, and
all over town, in the church steeples, the bells which have been wired
into the system begin to ring, - I could go on, and maybe I will, but
first a sacrilegious disgression for which I preemptively ask forgiveness.
I can't resist reciting the account in the Gospel of St. Matthew about the
PANIC that ensued upon the death of Jesus.

51 And, behold, the veil  of the temple was rent in twain
from the top to the bottom; and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent;
52 and the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints which slept arose,
53 and came out of the graves after his resurrection,
and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many. (Matthew 27)

or, to make things more clear in 16th century German:

51 VND sihe da / Der Furhang im Tempel zureis in zwey stück /
von oben an / bis vnten aus.
52 Vnd die Erde erbebete / Vnd die Felsen zurissen /
Vnd die Greber theten sich auff /
vnd stunden auff viel Leibe der Heiligen die da schlieffen /
53 vnd giengen aus den grebern / nach seiner Aufferstehung /
vnd kamen in die heilige Stad vnd erschienen vielen. (Luther 1545)
_
What happens next is that the clerks and secretaries pour out
of all the Town offices, certain that Osama bin Laden has struck
again, until finally the Chief of Police appears and takes charge.

===========================

In the Office of Commissioner Brandes:
======================================
In describing the PANIC, I was also mindful of the introduction to
Th. Mann's ultimate novel "Der Erwaehlte" (I don't know how the title
has been translated into English.) which opens with a description
of the tumultuous tolling of all the bells of all the churches in Rome 
to celebrate the consecration of the new Pope who was in fact the
child of incest.  - It's quite a story - . What happened on the Island,
after my last summary, was the appearance of the Chief of Police, -
maybe I should rename him the Commissioner of Public Safety, -
if I can find a suitable equivalent term in German - perhaps 
"Sicherheitskommissar", or perhaps "Minister fuer Freiheit und Ordnung."
In any event, Martin Brandes, - that turns out to be his name -, why
or where he got it, I don't know. Martin is a first name ineluctably
linked in my mind with the unsavory contamination of spirituality with
worldly authority, while Brandes is the surname of the influential
19th century literary critic who "discovered" both Nietzsche and
Kierkegaard. In any event Commissioner Brandes explains to Buddy
the policeman that Mengs who looks to be of Social Security age,
can't possibly be expected to make the 6 foot leap from the cage to
the pavement. Brandes orders Buddy to fetch from the garage the ramp
that's used at the airport to enable VIP's to disembark from their jets.
This takes a while, but in the end, Mengs is escorted to the ground
on a set of stairs carpeted in brilliant red. Meanwhile, although the
crowd has started to disperse, the blare of the horns, the wails of
the sirens and the clanging of the church bells continues, because no
one knows how to deactivate a system which it turns out was installed
by an unlicensed do-it-yourselfer. This anonymous character finally puts
in an appearance and, even though he is unlicensed, is permitted
to restore peace and quiet. Now it's Commissioner Brandes' turn
to demonstrate that he's worth his salary. He summons the suspects
and their captors to his office, which is too small to seat them all.
Brandes has the two suspects sit in the armchairs and directs
Buddy and Billy to stand at either side as sentries. When asked about
their occupations, and Mengs and Magus disclose their roles in the
University Department of Literature, Commissioner Brandes becomes almost
ecstatic, having encountered for the first time on the Island two persons
who share his passion for literature. He relates that at Seashore
Community College which he attended, he majored in literature and
graduated summa cum laude with a senior thesis on Nancy Drew. Indeed,
it was his fascination with detective stories, which he declares is
the true literature, that persuaded Commissioner Brandes to make law
enforcement his profession. There ensues a comic episode when Magus and
Mengs, who have never heard of Nancy Drew, not to mention of her
achievements as a detective, try to bull-shit (if my lapse into the
vernacular be forgiven) their way out of jail, - and almost succeed in doing
so, but not quite, because just as Commissioner Brandes is apologizing to
them for the inconvenience, and wishing them pleasant, sunny days for the
remainder of their stay on the Island, Buddy reminds him that there
is yet a third suspect, Maximilian Katenus, who has been kept locked
in a jail cell for the past several hours. Katenus is brought in,
and seated in the chair hitherto occupied by Joachim, who, though not
in uniform, takes his stand next to Billy, as the third sentry. Katenus,
with whose idiosyncracies and antics the authorities are only too
familiar, is in no mood to be conciliatory. Without being asked, he
expounds to Commissioner Brandes his theory that the essence of
government is the exercise of authority; that all government is 
inherently fascist; that our revulsion againt National Socialism is
an expression of the conflict that arises for us from our subconscious
recognition of the cruel, mindless and irrational beings who we really
are, and the generous, tolerant and charitable neighbors we idealize
ourselves to be; that we inveigh against inhumanity because we ourselves
are inhuman. Commissioner Brandes should look at him, Maximilian Katenus,
as at a mirror in which Brandes will see reflected his own foolishness,
his own mendacity and his own cruelty.  Brandes is dumbfounded. Mengs
very much aware of the perilousness of the situation which Katenus'
candor has precipitated, launches into a lecture in which he purports
to distinguish between theoretical knowledge and practical knowledge. 
In theory, says Mengs, Katenus may be correct, but in practice, says
Mengs, Katenus is mistaken, because Commissioner Brandes is a learned
and intelligent and sensitive individual who is discharging complex and
arduous obligations with consummate skill. Katenus turns to Mengs,
snarling, with the words: Et tu, Brutus?  It's now Joachim's turn to be
embarrassed; he is torn between his loyalty to Mengs and his loyalty to
Katenus. He feels he must say something, but he doesn't know what to say.
Starts therefore to ramble, to contradict himself, in one sentence endorsing
Mengs, in the next sentence endorsing Katenus. However, Joachim's words
make no difference to either Brandes or Mengs, because neither is listening:
only Katenus. When Joachim who has been repeating himself over and over,
and, not knowing what else to say, pauses, - Katenus interjects:
"Verily I say unto thee, this day shalt thou be with me in paradise."
The long silence that ensues is broken by Buddy, who says to his chief:
"Sir, if we let these guys go, they'll say we're soft on terrorism." -