The fear of questions

As you put down Emily Gravett’s ‘Big Book of Fears’ and look at the white mouse peeping through the mouse-chewed hole in the cover I see the look of worry enter your eyes. I ask, putting on my most sickly sweet voice to keep the situation light, “So, what is your biggest fear?” You answer automatically in a tone devoid of all emotions, “The fear of questions.” And immediately add, “Especially those questions to which I have no answers.”

I try to imagine snarky classmates and sadistic teachers and cold steel striking boney knuckles. But am assaulted by the fear of the next question waiting in line to which I honestly have no answer, “What is the fear of questions called?” And a flush of embarrassment, the kind that momentarily and involuntarily comes over when one is confronted by the unknown, starts to colour my face.

Putting my hands on your shoulders I say, “Remember what the book says, ‘A Fear Faced Is A Fear Defeated.’ So, if you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask. Maybe people will laugh at you. Maybe others will call you a fool. Or maybe there are other people asking the same question too. And maybe someone has the answer. But how would you know if you don’t ask?”

And I smile as we share our special look, “Do you know what the fear of questions is called? Well, neither do I. Come on let us look for the answer together.”

Mavis

Mavis, Mavis, Mavis you wrote it down for us. You said, ‘Read one. Shut the book. Read something else. Come back later. Stories can wait.’ But we wanted more. In fact, once we began we wanted them all. Starting with The Moslem Wife and ending with Henri Grippes we had to, we needed to read them all. All at once. How could we not? Our inner Gollum mesmerized by the beautiful words, the startlingly accurate descriptions of our solitude, even the smallest thought that inhabits the deepest recesses of our mind, makes us lust for more. For how did you?

How do you know us so well? For aren’t we all in exile. Eternal tourists adrift between choice and circumstance wandering through cities and life. Strangers in strange lands and sometimes strangers in our own homes. Fighting in great wars. The great wars of the world and the wars within. But what astonishes us is how could you encapsulate it all in words. So concisely, so precisely.

Among all these questions and answers you simply write, “Make a wish.” So we too echo the words, “We wish - we wish - but first we must know what Marie has wished for us.” And that only Mavis can tell.

(Afterthoughts on books: part 3)