The Lion of Boaz-Jachin and Jachin-Boaz
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Jachin-Boaz is a maker and seller of maps. In his shop are maps that will lead you to whatever it is you most desire: love, inspiration, wealth. But his greatest achievement is a master-map showing the location of everything that has ever been found in the world, which he intends to give to his son, Boaz-Jachin. There is only one thing missing from the map: lions - for there are no more lions left. Or are there? When Jachin-Boaz sets out on a quest to find a lion for his son, Boaz-Jachin will follow in search of his father, and both will discover something wholly unexpected ...
Russell Hoban's first novel for adults, The Lion of Boaz-Jachin and Jachin-Boaz (1973) was widely acclaimed by critics and earned comparisons to Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. Both a humorous and light-hearted fantasy and an insightful meditation on the sometimes difficult relationships between fathers and sons, it is a perfect introduction to the work of this brilliant writer.
'A piece of invention as original as any of Tolkien's or C.S. Lewis's.' - New Statesman
'Magic at work ... Funny as well as beautiful.' - Irish Times
'Mr. Hoban is unclassifiable, thank goodness. His narrative is so minutely and compellingly realistic that after a time you cease to notice that he has stood reality on its head.' - Sunday Times
'Of outstanding quality ... unusually vivid imagination ... immensely striking use of words.' - Auberon Waugh, The Spectator
for my father,’ said Boaz-Jachin. ‘Ah-h-h!’ said the driver, as if he had finally worked a bit of meat out of the tooth it was stuck in. ‘To look for the father! The father ran away?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Your mother has a new man and you don’t like him?’ Boaz-Jachin tried to imagine his mother with someone other than his father. His mind gave him pictures of the two of them together. When he took his father out of the pictures he had nothing else to put there. Would his father have a new woman? He took
burdensome, heavy. ‘Do you sail her or has she got an engine?’ he said. ‘Engine,’ said the man. ‘The sail is just to keep her steady. She used to be rigged for sail when my father was alive. Not now. Too much fucking trouble. This way I get there, I get back, I have a good time ashore, no trouble. I come over with wine and cheese, I go back with oranges, melons, whatever. You’re on your way somewhere, right? You’re going somewhere. Where are you going?’ ‘Where you’re taking the oranges,’ said
the kitchen and Jachin-Boaz young. She shut the memories out of her mind. She thought of the five copies of the letter she had posted, and smiled. Pigeons circled the square, and she cried. 20 A mighty fortress is our God, sang Gretel in her mind, hearing the voices of the choir in the church of the town where she had been born as she stood behind the counter in the bookshop. Painted on the wooden gallery-front were Bible pictures, pink faces, blue and scarlet robes, too much colour,
and pyjamas, he appeared to be fully and impeccably dressed and carrying a tightly furled umbrella and a respectable newspaper. ‘Lovely,’ he continued. ‘Lovely wife, children, home, weather, central heating, career, garden, shoelaces, buttons and dentistry. All modern conveniences, or nearest offer. Lovely bank lessons, music account, lovely miles to the gallon. Lovely ‘O’ Levels, ‘A’ Levels, eye levels, level eyes. Lovely level eyes she has and sees through everything but.’ ‘But what?’ said
stepped back to the right. ‘Life,’ he said, looked calmly at the lion, shrugged. ‘There are no maps,’ said Jachin-Boaz. He unrolled the map in his hand, rolled it the other way to flatten it, lit a match, set it afire. Flames danced up. He dropped the map as the flames consumed it, oceans and continents darkened, writhing in the fire. ‘No maps,’ said Jachin-Boaz. He remembered Boaz-Jachin as a baby, laughing in his bath in the sink. He remembered his wife singing. He remembered the feel of