C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Harley T. 19 Jan, 2010 03:40PM
i will soon be writing another story this time dedecated to my AMZING most FANTASTIC friend IN THE WHOLE UNIVERSE she is WONDERFUL and this story describes the way we met i have known her for 6 & half years we know alot about each other and we trust each other she is amazing and lovely i neva wanna lose her as a friend again as i did when we moved schools
<3 YOU STEPAHNIE WRIGHT
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Harley T. 19 Jan, 2010 03:27PM
I found that THE LIBRARIAN'S REVENGE was absaloutly amazing and my mum was pleazed to see that i was in the book which i am aslo happy about
i have taken my time to write a reveiw of THE LIBRARIAN'S REVENGE because it is so spectacullar!!!!
i absaloutly love the book even though i only got up to book2
my mum really wants a copy of the book but there arnt many left.
our family friends where also very impressed and they call me a superstar lol
even though i am like totaly NOT!!!!!
when will there be more copys available because i like REALLY WANT THE BOOK ?
if u could reply and tell me i would be well pleased thanks?
and i got tons more storys to go on here so there will be alot of stuff from me
lol i <3 these smileys they total cool
so wish i could go to C.W i really dont want to miss out
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Harley T. 15 Jan, 2010 09:20PM
The Girl In The Fire Place
By Harley Tedds
It was a dark winters evening and everything was quiet a little girl called Annabel was sitting in front of her nanny’s fire-place she heard a voice a strange little girls voice calling her name “Annabel ANNABEL” it got louder the closer she got to the fire place she gazed closer into the fire-place and saw the face of a little girl call ‘Annie’ who was also know as Annabel she wanted to show Annabel something so she grabbed Annabel’s hand and pulled her into the fire-place.
When her nanny noticed she was gone she looked into the fire-place and saw the face of Annabel looking back at her.
Annabel turned and noticed that she was not in the same house it was old and dirty then Annabel asked “were am I and who exactly are you” there was no reply, the girl who was once there was no longer Annabel turned her head around to see if she saw anything that reminded her in that strange place.
After investigating the house she went back over to the fire-place to see Annie in the arms of her nanny it brought a tear to her eye she was heartbroken and dead inside, Then Annabel realized what had happened the ghost of Annie pulled in Annabel to change over so she was in a paranormal world and Annie was in the real world.
It was dark and damp in the paranormal world it scared her then she heard a voice it was Annie.
She told Annabel “everything’s alright don’t worry I will switch back lives soon I just want to live in the normal world again”
Annabel then heard someone shouting for Annie so she stood up and wiped the dust of her dress and the tears form her eyes.
It was Annie’s best friend she walked up to her and said “Ann u been cryin ain’t ya wot up mate”
Annabel explained the whole thing and Annie’s friend Linda looked into the fire-place and saw Annie she started to cry.
After a year was over Annie wanted to go home back into the paranormal world she tried to reach into the fire place but she couldn’t go through Annabel then realised she wouldn’t be able to go back to her home, her loving grand-ma and her friends she fell to her knees and shouted out with anger.
Annabel’s grand-ma kept on hearing her voice so one day she went over to the fire-place and found poor little Annabel trapped in there so everyday since then her
Grand-ma would go and talk to Annabel and make her feel happy and not alone
HOPE YOU LIKED IT i did :)
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Tom W. V. 27 Oct, 2009 10:26PM
Tobias looked out onto the grassy plains thoughtfully. The armies of King Terranus has assembled on the horizon and had made camp, the shouts and laughter of the men could be heard from all the way to Tobias. He turned and extended his arm toward the target dummy infront of him and close his eyes, the dummy blew apart sending fragments of wood and hay in every direction, Tobias swept the beads of sweat from his brow and walked back to his tent.
Next day Tobias could be found standing in formation with the Resistance facing the oncoming storm of the Kings men, most of the men around him stood huddled and whispers shot here and there, Tobias however stood back straight and eyes focused on the movement before him.
"How do you stand like that sire?" asked one the men next to him
"What do you see before us?" asked Tobias facing the man, gesturing out to the plains
"Why the Kings army of course sire, certain death" replied the man shaking slightly
"That is exactly why I do not stand huddled, I do not see death. I see new life, for if we defeat the army then the Kingdom can proper and be healthy again, and that thought of a land without tyranny and death around us. Means I could face any foe and still now cower" Tobias looked back and said no more. The men went away and started whispering again. A roar echoed from the depths of the Kings men and Tobias saw a huge beast arise within it and start to walk toward the Resistance, many of the men surrounding Tobias, blanched and starting panicing. Tobias sighed and walked forward, standing in front of the Resistance facing the giant. He closed his eyes and extended his hand concentrating fiercly, the giants hand began to tremble and suddenly bones snapped and the huge club fell to the ground making a crater big enough to bury the whole Kings army. Tobias looked up and saw the huge figures of the dragons flying high above him. He drew his sword and charged at the Kings men bellowing a challenge, man behind him ran too, shouting and banging weapons against their sheilds.
The two armies met in a roar of sound and Tobias jumped, 5, 10. 20, 40 feet on to the giants shoulder and stabbed his sword into its neck.
TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW
... The giant bellowed in rage and flailed its arms madly knocking both Kings men and the Resistance flying. Tobias held on as the giant fell back, flattening several unlucky men and jumped off. For the next few hours Tobias only knew the battle, he twisted and swirled, his sword dealing fatal blows everytime it struck. Magic also crackled from his finger tips cooking men inside their armour, their screams echoed from the remains as they flailed around. Tobias stopped and looked around at the carnage he'd left in his wake, panting he looked around and saw the remains of the Kings men flee'ing back toward their camp. An ivory horn sounded and the Resistance started slowly moving back too, thousands of lives had been lost, both armies were severly crippled and it would be several week's before anyone was able to fight again. Tobias ran back, bounding across the plains to the command tent at the back of the army, he sheilded his sword and stepped through.
"My lady" he bowed and inclined his head to Katrina Amagon, the leader of the Resistance.
"You dont not need to bow to me, Tobias, you know that. You mustve killed hundreds today, such a fete has not been achieved for a very long time" replied Katrina smiling slightly
"Thank you, I only came to ask why we did not persue the Kings men?" asked Tobias
Katrina laughed, "You may be fit, but most of the Resistance either died or are wounded, very few are able to even pick up a sword at this moment, I have our healers working round the clock to help them, but even they are finding it a tough job to keep everyone alive. Tobias nodded and left his tent, he then walked slowly to his own tent on the far side of camp and fell onto his bed thinking.
If you need anymore let me know.
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Geoffrey Bunting 02 Oct, 2009 01:57AM
It was here that he appeared again. The young fellow who had so fruitlessly gazed upon a young girl, so long ago, in that exact spot he stood now. Like a fool he had returned to the scene of the crime- returning, retrieving perhaps; for as he walked he let his hand swoop past a set of books and from the top pulled the same book he had discarded so pitilessly before. Seeing it seemed to bring a salt tear to his eye and he blinked hurriedly, as if he were adjusting to some foreign light, in order to dispel it. He looked like he had had the worst of it- whatever ‘it’ was, he had certainly borne its hellish brunt.
His hair, once kindly messy, was now dishevelled. His shirt was faded, and ripped in places and even burnt somewhat on the collar and his sandals had now disappeared to be replaced by the worn, dry soles of his feet. He didn’t stride in, he barely walked, he hobbled and the librarian was sure that he would have crawled had he thought it were an option. He just leafed through the book hopelessly, his eyes had nothing behind them- no life, no hope, just a memory of something and that memory had brought him here. The Librarian continued to watch him, the brooding fellow’s calloused fingers scratching harshly at the edge of the pages. The sound made him cringe, he did hate to see books treated so harshly but what he hated more was to hear them. Generally, he found, if you can hear a book being mistreated the damage will be worse than if it were silent and witnessed.
The tears reappeared but this time he let them flow as he walked to the Librarian’s desk. He looked up and blinked the tears away, leaving red rings about his eyes.
"I just came to borrow a book…" He croaked.
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Mary D. 09 Jul, 2009 08:01PM
The axe glinted in the middle of the alcove the sun filtered on to the crazed eyes of the unshaven face. The librarian, his coruroy jacket covering his shaking arms: ran. His tail flaps flapped in the wind as he ran towards the crowded office, the candle flickered and longated the shadows. He hid in the corner, hoping the imposter would pass him by.
He didn't, the figure strided into the secluded office, his dark eyes penetrating the darkness. All of a sudden they rested on the quaking book keeper, then with a rush of addrenaline the axe swung. BAM!
The librarian fell of the tattered sofa and onto the wooden floor. His head throbbed, he put his hand on his temples. The librarians glasses sat on the table, he picked them up and put them on. he looked at the clock, 5:40. another two and a half hours until it was time to open up. he sighed and drunk his water, but something was wrong. there was a burning senstion in his throat, acid. And with that thought like a shadow on his mind he garbled his last breath," kathy". And the light were extinguished from his eyes forever.
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Leif Ahnland 27 Jun, 2009 01:36PM
Here are some ideas for events, characters and themes that we can put
in the book. This also needs texts (books to find in the library) from
you guys connected to these things.The Gardener
In Book Two: A woman and her partner comes to school when everything is going really
bad and the librarian and the kids have just been robbed of their food.
Everything looks hopeless and this couple come in with new books and
energy and knowledge about growing food and so on.
Something about growing things, a book on flowers and vegetables. Recipes?
Two. A captain and (a soldier?) of some military or merchant navy
(Norway? Or British?) has been stranded when is ship was sunk of the
coast in a storm. Shipwrecked he makes his way to the school, having
heard about it from locals who couldn't take him in because they have a
hard time taking care of themselves. He/They will be useful in helping
the people in the school defend themselves from gangs and so forth. I
think it is also a good way of taking up issues about war and so on.
This could also create tensions between the Caretaker who sees himself
as the defender of the school.
In the end they will all work together anyway so it will be a positive thing.
A book on war, the third world war or something? Maybe not on wars. One thing that is possible is using Joe's
Servants in Thought
that could work well with the captain and the young boy as the heroes.
Two: A construction worker (Polish?) comes to the school at some point
and becomes instrumental in building things. The reason for him being
foreign is that it is a wa to discuss prejudices.
suggestion: A History of Organic Architecture
? Or something else, a
handbook on sustainable buildings would be cool I think...
Two: We need a strong female protagonist and I guess it would be
natural to have her be a woman the librarian falls in love with. We
have talked about this before and I think we agree that she should be
very different from him, a sort of negative soul mate. But not in a
negative way obviously. The suggestion I think could work really well
is that she is someone to whom things happen and that she has travelled
a lot to get to the library as opposed to the librarian who never goes
and anywhere and who reads bout things. You get the picture. She should
come into to the story halfway through the book I think, when they are
trying to build something that can function and so that they can
Georgie is looking at this already but anyone
with ideas on this character could, or should, have a go at writing
about her. She will be very important to the story.The Witch
Two or Three: When hospitals and doctors will not be as easy to reach
people will need ways to cure themselves so maybe there could be some
New Age kind of character who comes in and starts growing all these
herbs and stuff. A natural medicine and holistic NHS kind of thing. And
it could include foreseeing the future and other witchlike things. I
think this could be a really funny chapter.Text/book suggestion:
Becky is writing a story about a witch so that could work well here. Thanks for the idea by the way Becky.
The Pseudo City
In Book Three. As you may know, pseudo is a word that means:
imitation, simulated; faked, false; fictitious, mock adj.
simulated, pretend, seemingly; false, not genuine, mock
maybe because of the name of the publisher of the mysterious books
being Pseudocity Press (at the moment anyway) they may start to call
their community a pseudo city when it starts to work like a small town.
I don't know about this so you tell me if that is a good a idea. I'm
hardly objective on this matter as something with Pseudocity is what
I've called everything I've done for the last two years.
Ok. That were some ideas. If you guys come up with something please go ahead.
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Leif Ahnland 31 May, 2009 11:24PM
Hi. What follows is an attempt to define a little more clearly what is going on in The Librarian's Revenge. I have discussed this with some of you already. This post will be added to as we go along. Please think about things connected to the story, such as different outfits the Librarian could wear and who he could meet and what the library looks like and what happens there and and in the outside world and... well, in short, things that could go into the book.
There are already quite a few pages with text that you are welcome to read, propose changes and add to. Ask me for a copy
editors explain the discovery of the manuscript and some of its
intricacies; they discuss the strengths of the text and how it contains books
within books. References to for example Italo Calvino's If on a
Winter's Night a Traveller.
Hewett introduces the Zeitgeist of the text and the backdrop against
which TLR is played out, a "perfect storm" of different problems faced by humanity. The four horsemen of the APOCALYPSE: War, Famine, Plague and Death. The hope in
hopelessness. The setting of the figurative stage: What books are
about, the role of a librarian. A description of the generic library.
Press the importance of fantasy and imagination.
One - Entering the Labyrinth
The library as it starts out. The decline of society. The first
disasters. The ubiquity of communication technology in a world of
Solitude. The first books from Pseudocity Press (which are in fact
One – The Dawn
The Librarian. The setting of the physical stage. Description of the
actual place: A library in a comprehensive school full with students
and staff and sports fields and hallways and rooms and alcoves and
staircases and roof and so forth. Large building complex. Outside, the perfect storm
of different disasters is brewing.
Who loves books and why they are important. Readership. That we use
stories to understand the real world.
Our DICTIONARY definition of for
example Book, Library, Librarian etc..
Jorge Luis Borges The Library, Dictionaries. Anthologies
Librarian Around 25 years old when the story starts. Hero. Meek. Unsociable. Filters the
world through texts. Often speaks by quoting. Probably called Dewey
but thinks of himself as The Librarian. Has an obsessive compulsive
disorder kind of relationship to books. Was maybe “born” in a library (or bookshop) where his
mother worked. He grew up in a dusty public library's (bookshop's) storage rooms.
Autodidact in everything from history to maths. Played by himself
and sometimes with the caretaker's dog. Cut small dolls from weeded children's
books, read fables to himself. Invented games? Built houses with cardboard boxes and old books. Dresses very boringly and is not very well groomed. Has
kissed, had sex, killed, ruled, died, been resurrected, stolen, loved
and lost love, explained God and Death and myths, told the history of
the world, waged wars and built empires; all this and more through
the books he read.
Two – The New Book
Balthazar (kid one), Rigmor (kid two) and The Leprechaun. The new
book mystery (Suggestion: Andrew the Sausage). Bullying. First hint of Financial
crisis. Someone fired?
The healing power of stories.
NURSERY RHYMES + FAIRY TALES + FOLKLORE
C.S. Lewis, old rhymes, the Grimm Brothers.
10 years old. Likes absurd stories. Cries a lot. Calms down when read
to. Reminds Dewey of himself when little. Parents lost job,
15 years old. The Reading Rebel. Proactive. Cocky on the outside. Lonely. Maybe a bully sometimes. Strong when it
counts. Will later save the library from a fire. Reads anything but
Leprechaun - Wee Willie What at first appears to be a figment of the
librarian's imagination is the fairy that appears one evening and
causes mischief. The small being becomes a nemesis and will resurface
throughout the book. Will function as scapegoat when something goes
wrong. The guess that To please Willie, The Librarian will start to
set food out which will be gone in the morning. A mystery... Reading
up on fairies in books on FOLKLORE and LEGENDS
The leprechaun is indeed a person. A small child, 11 years old at
most, has hidden in the library because it doesn't want to go home
because of his/her parent's bad behaviour. (He or she will probably
be a girl.) Further on Willie is detected and the hideout discovered.
Sparks a reading of the librarian's own DIARY where we learn that he
lived under similar conditions once. In Chapter Four or Five the
librarian will learn the truth about Wee Willie who is Marilyn in
reality. He will start to take care of her properly but without
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Leif Ahnland 15 May, 2009 07:45PM
Just a suggestion from someone. The Librarian's mother was a librarian and didn't get to the hospital on time and therefore gave birth to our protagonist in the library where she worked back then. Destiny...
Comments and ideas here, anyone?
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Georgie Ball 05 May, 2009 01:13AMDue to some serious writer's block, this is all I have so far... But I'm working on it. From here I'll describe the effects that changing world had on the library and how it becomes a sanctuary etc.
Comment on all aspects please!
It started as a
coffee shop with a bookshelf. Now it is a sanctuary. The bookshelf in the
coffee shop grew, stretching out with tentative paperbacks, some worn and
thoroughly thumbed, some almost new. Hardbacks both bent and mint lined the
walls, screeching angry tales of scorned lovers and gibbering the prose of
vampires and werewolves, and weaving wonderful verses of lush green hills and
grew fat and fit to bursting, swelling at the bindings, and exploding onto
other shelves and stacks. Piles and piles, spilling onto the tables, blocking
the chairs for customers until it was more of a second-hand bookshop with
coffee offered in chipped and uncared for mugs, balanced on teetering columns
of volume upon volume.
from coffee shop to second hand bookshop was fast, and almost painless. Those
who previously came for coffee, soon forgot that was originally the sole
purpose of that small place on the corner, and became regulars for the ever
growing collection of books. Even the perplexed owner could not tell where some
of the titles came from, but this mystery was welcomed as it created
excitement. Sure enough the bookshop was getting ever more cramped.
still swelled, pushing the limits of the room until they burst forth into the
room behind, and then the room behind that; erupting in a spray of
alliteration, anecdotes, antiheroes and assonance. The books ruled the shop,
and continued trying to expand their kingdom until they forced to give up their
invasion by a new force larger and greater than it.
Suddenly the shop
found it had evolved into a library. The greater force had attached itself to
it, clinging, limpet-like to its side, feeding off its knowledge and spreading
it to many others. The bookshop had become a library attached to a school. The
resources continued to grow, and ever stranger texts materialised on the now
ordered shelves. Although this was a huge change from the origins of the place,
it seemed settled, and contented to be a part of the new entity of teaching. It
lived and breathed, parting with some itself and having others returned. It
welcomed each newcomer, satisfied that people wanted something from it. It
rested as if in a doze. Now it seemed to have a purpose for being, and it was
happy to stay as it was, working with the ebb and flow of life.
this way for some time, but this peace was not to last. It was aware that
things outside were beginning to change all around it. Less and less people
seemed to have use for it, and slowly it was only the workers who moved in its
veins, between the shelves like blood cells carrying the oxygen to the vital
organs but now... there were not enough carrying what it needed.
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Geoffrey Bunting 04 May, 2009 10:51PM
He held the volume in his frail hands, hands that had grown weary with the weight of his responsibilities. Like Atlas he felt drained daily from the exertions of running such a facility. He felt like the titan, his passion for the written word was his crime- rebelling against the Zeus like figure of the household television set. Knowledge was his punishment, his burden, his sky.
It had been years since he started and what was once a vibrant, mirthful establishment had aged with him into the obscurity and disrepair of the countless classics about him.
He was a young man when he started, immersing himself in the endless narrative about him. His emerald eyes carefully scrutinising the anonymous figures moving to and fro, like an artist would scrutinise the canvas he were to paint on. Occasionally his scruffy hair would throw itself violently after his turning head to check upon someone- as if they were a confusing paragraph that he had to read again. Such was life, a pleasant enough existence of literature and judgement that his position denoted.
But things changed.
His youthful exuberance had disappeared as the readers faded away. Replaced by despair that no one seemed to have any use for books anymore. No use for metaphors or rhyme. No use for characters so fantastical and superior is made you sick. No use for literature. But he hadn’t given up, he was old but not at the end. He would bring them back. He would have revenge!
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Mary D. 01 May, 2009 01:52PM
As I entered the dank room, the librian could be heard shuffling around the library, dusting and stroking his books like precious antiquites. I nipped up the stairs after seeing the old man let his eyes wander through the darkness, trting to catch an unruly reader distrupting the utter harmony of the staleness. The labrinth of bookshelves rose up as if to greet me. the corner i normally sat in had been dusted recently because the air here felt a little less opressive, i looked behind the beutiful, red, velvet chair and i saw what i was looking for.
The door was concealed by the book case, but only i knew it was here. i looked for 50,000 leuges under the sea and there it was, a polished door knob, oddly shiny in the enclosed bookshelves. Tilly opened the door and went in.
Tilly had made the room her own, with lots of food and her favourite books and her favourite track playing, by iron and wine, flying bird american mouth. It made her feel dreamy and she could spend hours lisening to it. This was her snactuary in a world of square heads.
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Martin Oakshaft 30 Apr, 2009 11:26PM
not the most helpful input, but everytime i think of the character called The Librarian, all i can think about is an orangutan that says "ook"
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Kirsty Hoath 30 Apr, 2009 07:59PM
I know that there have been other idea's for the person that the librarian should fal in love with. But hey, here's just my idea. Your idea may be better, your idea may be worse, but this is just mine.
As the librarian glanced around the room, looking for unsuspecting noise-makers, people or things, his eyes past over a sleeve that dissapeared into the secretive alcove.
He walked over to investigate and punish someone for disrupting the peaceful and ordered library. He walked into the alcove and his eyes on the figure that sat peacefully reading the thick hardback that was laying open on their lap. Their mousy-brown hair stretched down below their muscular shoulders. They looked up and beautiful hazel peared into the glaring eyes peared into the gleary eyes of the librarian. His eyes relaxed as a light smile spread across the soft, elegant face of the young male.
The young man looked about twenty, too old to be a student, however, just too young to be a teacher.
Who is this mysterious, good-looking person. Good looking! I must be going mad. Horrific thoughts surged through the older man's consciousness.
"Is there a problem, sir?" The younger of the two asked, slightly seductivly.
"N...N...N" The book keeper stuttered, trying to form a coherant sentance, but instead desided on defeat, turned sharply and walked back to his desk, his cheeks slightly rouged.
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Alicia B. 30 Apr, 2009 06:46PM
Just an idea, I know others have way better things but this is just my vision of him.
He was pacing back and forth, with an old, tattered book locked in his grasp. He was short, and only just tall enough to be seen above the shelves upon shelves of books that comouflaged his meagre body. His blue eyes shone with excitment when the book began it's climax, and his honey coloured hand flicked another of the 560 pages over. The librarians thick rimmed glasses seemed to slide, slowly, down his hawk like nose, eventually resting on the tip, and with a look of annoyance at being disturbed, he reluctantly pushed them back to where they usually resided. His short black hair scarcely covered his head, a sign of old age.
He put the book down onto a small wooden table, placed in the middle of the room, and stared out of the window to see the world that surrounded him. A wild forest surrounded him. The vines that seemed like a childs hand grasping it's mothers, wrapped around the window frame, and, long ago had broken through the glass. Different shades of green merged together in the moments that he looked at them, and memories from a different lifetime, or so it seemed, flashed into his mind making him feel even more isolated from the world than he was. He hated the real world, all he wanted was to live in his world, with his books. The only thing he ever truely loved.
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Georgina Harris 30 Apr, 2009 05:21PM
Thanks for a really productive session today writing about all things Librarian...
Please post your work under the category 'C.W. Hewett' for all to see!
The next session
We've been talking about the idea that the texts the Librarian reads influence him somehow. At yesterday's 6th form meeting we talked about creating a series of texts of different genres (types.)
It would be fab if, for the next session you can make, you could have a go at writing in a specific style. Many of the group members who came today have already chosen one but here is the full list for those of you who couldn't make it...
Horror, Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Crime, Drama, Modern Novel, Non-fiction, Self-help, Graphic Novel, Romance, Poetry, Action/Thriller, Diary, 'Classic' Text, or even 'Religious' book!
You can click 'Edit' on this post and put your name next to the one you fancy tackling!
Until next time, yours creatively...
P.S. If you need a little extra help with how to write in a certain style, there are a range of books called 'Write Your Own...' in the Library which might be useful for you! You can find them shelved under the number 808.3.
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Leif Ahnland 20 Apr, 2009 08:00PM
Reading Instructions: To create the illusion that something like The Librarian's Revenge could actually exist, here is how the Introduction to a published version of the book could look. Set even further in the future than C.W. Hewett's text, we could sketch the history of the 21st century, making it an exercise not only in writing. Please comment on anything that you think look strange and/or that you like. But also, and this is very important, if there is something you would want to change. Nothing is yet definitive.
The origins of this text are shrouded in mystery; almost as thick and mesmerisingly fantastic as the story it has to tell, at least if one is a librarian. 7 years ago, a manuscript was found in the recesses of a cabinet in a disused wing of what had been built as a comprehensive school in Norfolk. The room had been the school's library according to old blueprints and had since been used as shelter and storage by various groups over the years. By no means unscathed, the imposing stack of handwritten paper had not only remained hidden but also survived repeated flooding and decades of moisture; a fact which is a mystery in itself as the cabinet was in no way a safe place. Every nook of the building had presumably been thoroughly searched for anything useful immediately following the Upheaval and the area had since been inhabited and scavenged further by almost two generations of Blue Newbies before being definitively reclaimed by 'civilisation' in the early 70's. The difference between destruction and survival of the original text presented on these pages is simply the grey, plastic coated envelope: difficult to see and, almost, waterproof. Even so, that we can read the restored text at all is due to the diligent work of a team of 5 people hampered by the lack of adequate tools. For three full years, they poured over damaged sheets of the cheapest kind of paper in order to produce a proper document that could be edited into the form we provide here. A moleskine sketchbook full of notes and drawings was also recovered and proved invaluable for the understanding of the manuscript.
The title of what must be classified as a trilogy, The Librarian's Revenge was hinted at through pencilled notes on the envelope and a page where a number of brainstormed alternatives were listed. If there is any trace of bitterness behind this choice it is most relevant to the content when analysed more closely. Even if we have tried hard to turn it into something that reads perfectly well from the first page to the last, it is a challenge and the irony is straightforward; someone who loved reading books so much as to write one of his own--that is well over a thousand pages thick--and, as it happens, almost unreadable. This librarian's revenge is a double-edged sword and the joke may be at that same librarian's expense.
C.W. Hewett's production is as far as we know confined to the following volume, consisting of what was originally divided into three books: Entering the Labyrinth, The Unmasking of Truth and The Confusion Dissipates. The preface, the unedited prologue and epilogues as well as the concluding section of comments, make this a complete edition of C.W. Hewett's texts. A faithful colour reproduction of the notebook is in preparation and the marvellously curious thinking of Hewett's inquisitive mind truly comes into its own in the unrestrained format of text and drawings on blank pages.
Until now, a large amount of confusion concerning the sequence of the different chapters reigned and the debate can still flare up. We are proud to be able to present here what is, in our humble opinion, the correct order, compiled through a method of informed trial and error; the result being regarded by most experts as the definitive version.
What makes the story such a powerful piece of work is that it has been known to profoundly change its readers on numerous occasions. Many have witnessed of a humility experienced during and after the reading. The magic of Hewett's prose is that it speaks directly to the reader without concerns about age, interests or outlook. Or rather, the conceptual development from child through youth and into maturity is so intuitively structured as to feel completely natural. Captivating, the mixture between his writing and that of others offers a unique experience as the evolution of both the story and the history is deciphered by the mind.
Questions pertaining to the veracity of facts, the truth of events described and whether or not the characters populating these pages where actual people has never been confirmed nor denied as records for the area and time period have been corrupted. All the same, the suspicion that Hewett worked in the no man's land between fact and fiction is more than well grounded and should be taken into account. While by no means a true chronicle or normal biographical record of events, it is clear that The Librarian's Revenge can be used to understand the first half of the 21st century due to the subtle mingling of thoughts and reflections with straightforward and verified facts, arguably rivalling any other account of that period through the multi-lateral complexity it presents us with.
The editors would like to thank a large number of people. The list is long and heartfelt gratitude goes out to both proofreaders and scholars for their invaluable help. And naturally, whenever, wherever and whoever you were, C.W. Hewett.
We sincerely hope that you will enjoy reading C.W. Hewett's magnum opus as much as we have enjoyed the journey bringing it to you.
Lee F. Ahnland and George Ina Harris
Norwich, July 2084
C.W. Hewett's TLRPosted by Leif Ahnland 09 Apr, 2009 11:33PM
are some things that are best left alone. Like books for example.
Dangerous things, books. Any text should be avoided to tell the
truth. It can twist the most harmless little mind in unexpected ways.
Yes. That same, cursed drag on an innocent boy’s brain can be a
blessing, changing him, for better or worse. Or a bored couple of
eyes straying to a strategically placed paperback and the girl the
eyes belong to lays down the glossy fashion magazine to pick up the
book, devoid of pictures of half-naked skin, full instead of line
after line of a story. She enters the labyrinth and it changes her.
Provided the right neurons are sparked up and some synapses are
thrown out like the grappling hooks of pirates, the stories connect
the predator and the victim – author and reader – in battle,
before the boarding that will end in bloodshed. Terrifying. As the
pages start to turn almost by themselves, sucking you in, it is
horrific but wondrous at the same time. A 'good' book can sometimes
kill it's reader. At least metaphorically, until the victim rises,
here I am, in a library, full of the wicked, beautiful things. A
silent army of trees has been sacrificed for them; a lake of ink has
been poured. The toil of the typesetters as they are click row after
row of leaden little cubes into place. Then, finally, the thunderous
roar of the printing presses, furiously stamping their black on white
know what you are thinking. Believe you me, I know what I sound like.
A nasty old bookworm, obsessed with the old and the past. Always
looking back, afraid of the future. Boring. And evil. Pretending to
be shelving books but just waiting for an excuse to tell someone off.
Or stalking his prey and going ‘shhh...’ every chance he gets.
Dressed in a murky, maroon cardigan, glasses. Greying temples, thin
lipped and quiet. Libraries do that to you. This one more than any
other perhaps. Actually, the brown cardigan is not just the result of
a notorious lack of taste of intellectuals. It is camouflage. If you
are in the desert you want a sandy or light brown khaki kind of
colour making you blend nicely with the background. If you are in the
jungle you want it to be green. If, instead, you are in a murky
library you want your disguise to be murky and, well, librarianish. A
light summer sky blue pull-over would do the trick as well. Some old
school librarians would favour a bow tie. But whatever the
combination of woolly, dusty and inoffensive garments and accessories
worn; a battle clad librarian is among the scarier things on the
one thing that would make a librarian happier than anything else –
if she is one of the truly, utterly devoted and uncompromising ones
of the real breed that is – is to notice that first moment when a
casual glance on a page becomes an intense connection between words
and brains. If that librarian, or Bookie as it was called before the
term was stolen by betting shops, has chosen the darker path, the
young apprentice may be lost to scheming and plotting, descending
unknowingly in the horrors of blackened and arcane knowledge. If, on
the other hand, the Keeper of the Books is one of the Holy of Circle
of the Defenders of the True Stories, the Way of the Witness can be
taken, leading to a whole and full life of intellectual endeavour and
travels to fairyland. Or so they say.