The Senior Common Room was unusually quiet.
Professor Quillibrace was reading the newspaper.
Miss Stray was looking out of the window.
Mr Blottisham was holding a piece of toast.
“I have solved it,” said Blottisham.
Quillibrace lowered the newspaper.
“Have you?”
“Yes.”
Stray turned from the window.
“The spoon.”
“What spoon?” said Quillibrace.
“The spoon in the story.”
“I see.”
Blottisham put down his toast.
“It is obviously an ontological parable.”
Quillibrace looked at Stray.
Stray looked at Quillibrace.
“Obviously,” said Quillibrace.
“The spoon begins with a naive conception of location,” Blottisham continued. “It assumes that being somewhere is an intrinsic property. But then the boy looks for it, and we discover that there is a distinction between where an object is and where it is sought.”
“Yes,” said Stray.
Blottisham smiled.
“Precisely.”
“I wasn't agreeing with you,” said Stray.
“I know. But you should have been.”
Quillibrace returned to his newspaper.
Blottisham continued.
“The crucial sentence is: ‘There was where it was. And there was where someone was looking for it.’”
“An excellent sentence,” said Stray.
“Thank you.”
“It wasn't yours.”
“I am aware of that.”
Blottisham leaned forward.
“The spoon's error is to think that location is purely spatial.”
Quillibrace sighed.
“Must we?”
“We must,” said Blottisham.
“Why?”
“Because the spoon is clearly telling us that objects acquire their identity through relations.”
Stray smiled.
“Does it?”
“Of course.”
“Where does it say that?”
“It doesn't need to say it. That's what it means.”
Quillibrace folded the newspaper.
“Ah.”
Blottisham looked pleased.
“Professor?”
“I was merely acknowledging the arrival of the problem.”
“What problem?”
“The problem of your interpretation.”
“There is no problem with my interpretation.”
“There is always a problem with an interpretation that begins by announcing that it has decoded the text.”
Blottisham frowned.
“But surely the story is about something.”
“Almost certainly.”
“And therefore it has a meaning.”
“Almost certainly.”
“So I am right.”
“No.”
Blottisham looked at Stray.
“Miss Stray?”
She considered the matter.
“I think the interesting thing is that the spoon doesn't actually become different.”
Blottisham waved this away.
“Metaphorically, it undergoes a profound transformation.”
“No,” said Stray.
“No?”
“It remains a spoon.”
“But—”
“It falls behind the cupboard. The boy looks for it. He finds it. He uses it. Nothing about the spoon itself changes.”
Blottisham looked annoyed.
“Then why does the spoon seem to think something has happened?”
Stray paused.
“Perhaps because something has happened.”
“What?”
“The boy.”
Blottisham waited.
“The boy looks for the spoon,” she said. “Then he finds it. The spoon becomes part of what he is doing. Perhaps what changes isn't the spoon's identity, but its participation.”
Quillibrace nodded.
“Better.”
Blottisham sat back.
“Participation.”
“Yes.”
“That is my word.”
“No,” said Quillibrace. “It is Miss Stray's.”
Blottisham ignored him.
“Then the spoon participates in the boy's intention.”
“Possibly.”
“And therefore its location is constituted by intention.”
“No.”
“By attention?”
“No.”
“By use?”
“Perhaps sometimes.”
Blottisham looked triumphant.
“Then I was right.”
Quillibrace picked up his newspaper again.
“You were nearby.”
Blottisham looked at Stray.
“Is that the same thing?”
She smiled.
“I don't think so.”
There was a short silence.
Then Blottisham said, “I still think the spoon has a secret meaning.”
Quillibrace unfolded the newspaper.
“I'm sure it does.”
“What is it?”
“I have no idea.”
Blottisham looked dissatisfied.
Stray returned to the window.
Outside, someone was looking for something.
None of them could see what it was.
No comments:
Post a Comment