Genesis Of A Holy Book

Appendix 5: Farcical Authorship

Not only is the content of a hallowed story often confabulated; in some cases, the authorship iteself is part of the confabulation.  The farcical attribution of sanctified lore goes back to the 13th century B.C., with the (fictional) Sumerian author, “Sin-leqi-unninni”.  The practice of “pseudo-epigrapha” then proceeded through:

• Sanch[o]uniathon of Berytus / Ugarit in Phoenicia
• Homer, Aesop, Orpheus, Lesches, Stasinus, Arctinus Milesius, and Cinaethon in ancient Greece *
• Sun Tzu (putative author of “The Art of War”); Fu Xi (putative author of the “I Ching”); Zuo-Qiu-Ming (putative author of the “Zuo Zhuan”), and Bai Ze in ancient China 
• Veda Vyasa and Vishnu Sharma in north India
• Tamil poets, T[h]irutakka-t[h]evar of Chola (putative author of the “Sivaka Sinta-mani”) and Agastya (a.k.a. “Agathiyar”) in south India
• Khana of Chandra-ketugarh / Pragjyotish[a]pur (a.k.a “Lilavati”) in Bengal
• Moshe [a.k.a. “Moses”] as putative author of the Pentateuch (i.e. the Torah, likely contrived by Judaic scribes during its compilation in Babylon).  David is the purported author of the “mizmor-im” (Psalms); and his son, Solomon, is the purported author of the Song of Solomon and Proverbs. **  Also notable are Samuel, Ezekiel, Daniel, Isaiah, Hosea, Amos, etc.: purported authors of the respective (eponymous) books.  Kohelet[h] was putative author of the “Book of Ecclesiastes”.  Shimon ben Yeshua ben Eliezer ben Sira[ch] [of Jerusalem] was putative author of the so-called “Book of Ecclesiasticus” [a.k.a. “Book of the All-Virtuous Wisdom”].  Jason of Cyrene was putative author of the “Book of Maccabees”.  Na[c]hum of Capernaum was putative author of his eponymous book.  Jeremiah ben Hilkiah was putative author of the “Book of Lamentations” (as well as an eponymous book).  Also of note is the Habakkuk of Jerusalem (c. 600 B.C.)  All of this material is used in Judaic lore. ***
• The four eponyms of the canonical Gospels; John of Patmos as putative author of the “Book of Revelation”; as well as Abdias of Babylon and Symeon Metaphrastes in Christian lore.
• Skaldic poet, Bragi Boddason inn Gamli in Norse lore
• The preternatural blacksmith, Ilmarinen (putative author of the Kalevala) in Finnish lore
• Per Abbad of Castile [a.k.a. “Abbot Peter”, putative author of “Cantar de Mio Cid”] in Spanish lore
• Pierre Marteau of Cologne in French / German lore
• “Mother Goose” [“Mère l’Oye” in French]; the “Gawain Poet”; and Martinus Scriblerus in English lore
• Oisin [alt. “Ossian”] in Irish lore
• Brythonic bard, Taliesin in Welsh lore
• Ashik [alt. “Ashug”] in Turkic lore
• Hermes Trismegistus of Egypt (putative author if the “Kybalion”) in Hermetic lore
• Diedrich Knickerbocker in American letters

…to mention fifty examples.  These monikers were—and, in some cases, still are—used as place-holders for what are farcical authors.  In the Muslim world, legend tells of the mystical tracts composed by the fabled “Abu Musa Jabir ibn Hayyan” of the Azd (variously said to have hailed from Tarsus, Harran, Kufa, or Tus).

We encounter a similar phenomenon with “William Shakespeare” in Elizabethan England (regarding some of the works in the celebrated oeuvre attributed to him alone, which may have been penned by others).  The ploy has been used in modern publishing—as with “Carolyn Keene” (imaginary author of the Nancy Drew series) and “Franklin W. Dixon” (imaginary author of the Hardy Boys series).

In the modern era, the most notable instance of this phenomenon is Betty Crocker: one of the best-selling authors of the 20th century; and—starting in 1926—arguably the biggest female celebrity in the world.  In 1945, Fortune magazine named her the most popular woman in America (after Eleanor Roosevelt).  The catch: She didn’t exist.  Betty Crocker was conjured by General Mills as a P.R. device.  For the first two decades of her famed existence, most people assumed she was a real person rather than a persona concocted by a corporation to promote a brand…and to sell products.  The ruse worked like a charm.

Note that here, we are not talking about pseudonyms.  The above personae were not the noms de plum of specific people.  They were fictional characters to whom the respective works were attributed.  In other words, the use of these (fabricated) names was a marketing strategy.

Pen-names, on the other hand, are not fictional characters.  “Publius” really existed; it was the nom de plum used by James Madison and Alexander Hamilton to keep their identity temporarily secret.  “George Eliot” really existed; her name was Mary Ann Evans.  “A.M. Barnard” really existed; her name was Louisa May Alcott.  “Mark Twain” really existed; his name was Samuel Longhorn Clemens.  “Lewis Carroll” really existed; his name was Charles L. Dodgson.  “Malmoth” really existed; his name was Oscar Wilde.  Richard Bachman really existed; his name was Stephen King.  By contrast, the authors listed here may have never existed.  A nom de plume is for VEILING the identity of the author.  This is a matter of INVENTING an author.  In other words: The author of the work is HIMSELF a fictional character, created by the (actual) authors of the work.

Ascribing a work to a fictional character has some benefits; as one is at liberty to romanticize the authorship ‘til one’s heart’s content—without regard to those who may have actually written it.  In other words, farcical authorship is a feature, not a bug.  This was the strategy employed with the “Ellery Queen” mystery series, where the tales’ protagonist was supposed to be the author of the books.  Early Mohammedans employed a similar strategy with the Koran—contending the book’s protagonist (the Abrahamic deity) was the author; and “Mu-H-M-D”, a 7th-century Bedouin merchant from Mecca, was the designated amanuensis (who was delivered the manuscript by a celestial emissary).

Sometimes, people just take cherished works and slap the name of a revered personage on them, as was done with the “Meditations Vitae Christi”; which was attributed to the Catholic saint, Giovanni di Fidanza of Latium (a.k.a. “Bonaventura”).  And so it goes: Don’t know who ACTUALLY wrote a cherished work?  No problem; just proceed with the desired attribution—be it farcical or actual.  Veracity is beside the point.

When a narrative becomes fashionable, people are easily duped into believing tall-tales about its origins.  This is exactly what happened in the 1760’s when Scottish author, James Macpherson published poems about a legendary warrior named Fingal.  He convinced everyone that the material was REALLY the translation of long-lost ancient texts by the fabled Gaelic bard, Ossian, from the 3rd century—thereby imbuing the material with an aura of authenticity.  The material was such a big hit, everyone got swept up in the tale of its fantastical beginnings.  (The prospect of a dashing hero in one’s heritage is ALWAYS an enticing prospect.)  It wasn’t until much later that people realized it was farce.

The Filipino author, José de la Cruz (a.k.a. “Huseng Sisiw”) understood that conjuring a farcical background for a text is a surefire way to give it prodigious cache.  This is precisely what he did c. 1800 with his epic, “Corrido and the Life of the Three Princes”.  He claimed that the tale (also rendered “Children of King Fernando and Ibong Adarna [alt. Queen Valeriana of Berbania]”) was not his own, but had come from the Occident; and that it was actually an ancient European legend.  (The implication was that the story may have been TRUE.)  According to Sisiw, the epic had been brought to the Philippines by the Spanish in the 16th century; and that he was merely transmitting it.  This enticing backstory made the material that much more enchanting: all the better to captivate his audience.  The gambit was a resounding success.

Wonder how effective this strategy can STILL be?  In 2008, the novel “Charm” became an instant best-seller in the U.S.  Its purported author was Kendall Hart—a character on the popular American soap opera, “All My Children”.  Undoubtedly, many of those who flocked to buy the book were well aware that the author was fictional; yet this did not deter them from buying a book that was ostensibly written by a beloved personage…precisely BECAUSE it was attributed to that personage.  Such occurrences are a reminder that a gratifying figment can be more compelling than Reality.

We humans are often entranced by the notion that something is from long, long ago in a land far, far away.  So it goes with ancient tracts, which purport to contain timeless wisdom.

The blurring of fictional personae with real-life people is commonplace with the most avid fans of pop-fantasy—be it novels, television series, films, or video-games.  Soap opera aficionados have been known to become obsessed with certain characters—often penning gushing letters to the heart-throbs with whom they have become hopelessly infatuated.  (Networks provide mailing addresses.)  In fact, actors are often given raises or fired based—in large part—on the amount of fan-mail they receive from fawning viewers.  (That is: They are evaluated based on how much delusive thinking their performance generates.)  It is no secret that the most devoted followers of fictional characters (especially in fantasy and science fiction) sometimes conflate the character with Reality, forgetting that the personae with which they have become smitten is NOT REAL.

Of course, the entire point of IMMERSION is to get us to (temporarily) lose track of the fact that Middle Earth, Narnia, the United Federation of Planets, the Wizarding World, and Westeros aren’t real.  Some of us desperately want to believe that the Shire, Archenland, Starfleet Command, Hogwarts, and Winterfell really exist.

Immersing oneself in a well-crafted narrative recruits many of the same psychical mechanisms as religiosity.  (Participants are, after all, looking to be “transported”.)  Sometimes people become so thoroughly immersed in a fabricated universe that they remain terminally submerged in the fantasy.  The fantasy thus BECOMES their “reality”.  Consequently, Reality must be held in abeyance—indefinitely—in order to sustain the intoxicating illusion to which they have become addicted.  This is precisely what we find in cases of religious fanaticism.

* * *

{*  Ancient commentators can’t even agree on where Aesop may have hailed from.  Herodotus thought he was originally from Samos.  Plutarch (as well as Cassius Maximus of Tyre) surmised that he was probably from Lydia.  Aristotle supposed he was from Thrace.  Callimachus of Cyrene referred to him as “Aesop of Sardis”.  And Roman historians assumed he was from Phrygia.  Most concur that he was a contemporary of the (equally folkloric) King Croesus of Lydia; and eventually ended up in Delphi.  What nobody knows for sure is whether or not he actually existed.  This did not prevent people from attributing to him some of the most hallowed fables in history.  Over the course of centuries, the fables commonly attributed this Lydian story-teller were transmitted by a series of scriveners, who composed adaptations of the corpus in various Greek vernaculars (as well as in Vulgar Latin).  Demetrius of Phalerum cobbled together a (now lost) compilation in ten volumes c. 400.  Thracian writer Phaedrus of Pydna composed a Latin rendering of the fables in the 1st century A.D.  Meanwhile, Roman writer, Babrius of Syria composed a Hellenized (Greek) rendering of the fables in iambic tri-meter (also in the 1st century A.D.)  Later, Macrobius Ambrosius Theodosius (a.k.a. “Avianus”) composed his own (Latin) version of the fables c. 400, this time as a collection of elegies.  The material of “Aesop” was later lifted by a 2nd-century Syrian writer who’s pseudonym was “Babrius” / “Gabrias”…and then even later by a Roman writer (possibly Macrobius Ambrosius Theodosius c. 400), who’s pseudonym was “Avianus”.  The fables would later be popularized by the French writer, Jean de La Fontaine, in the 17th century.  The famous tales continued to be revised and translated thereafter, incorporating material from whichever culture within which they were being circulated.  Consequently, the fables as they are commonly known today bear little resemblance to their original form.  In other words: Aesop’s fables are an example of what TYPICALLY happens to stories as they are transmitted over time, and are disseminated over vast geographies, being adopted (alt. co-opted) by one culture after another.  The logistics involved are roughly the same whether we’re dealing with fairytales or the Hadith.}

{**  This is instructive; as the fabled author OF the text is also a primary character IN the text.  While Moses is a legendary figure, even if we assumed such a man actually existed, he could not possibly have been the actual author of the Torah—as even the earliest texts (the Deuteronomic texts) were not composed until the Exilic period (6th century B.C.)  During that pivotal epoch, Daniel, Ezekiel and Jeremiah supposedly proselytized.  It was Ezra who supposedly took the finished manuscripts and brought them back to the Holy Land for posterity; and it is HIS rendering (in Aramaic) that served as the source for all subsequent editions.}

{***  Later, semi-historical rabbi, Judah Ha-Nasi (a.k.a. “Judah the Prince”) was said to have compiled the “Mishnah” in the late 2nd / early 3rd century.  And the semi-historical authors of the Talmud were “Amoraim” like Nachmani (a.k.a. “Abaye”) and Abba ben Joseph bar Hama (a.k.a. “Rava”) in the late 3rd / early 4th century; followed by “Rav” Ashi in the late 4th / early 5th century.  Other storied figures of Jewish letters were the three great theologians of the Iberian Peninsula during the 12th and 13th centuries: Yehuda HaLevi of Toledo (a.k.a. “Abu al-Hassan al-Lawi”; the “Ribal”), Moshe ben Maimon of Cordoba (a.k.a. “Maimonides”; the “Rambam”), and Moshe ben Nachman of Catalonia (a.k.a. “Nachmanides”; the “Ramban”).  These were historical figures who took on a folkloric aura over time.}