In Awe of Scheherazade

Dearest Rachel –

The framing device behind the Middle Eastern folk compendium One Thousand and One Nights is the story of the sultan Shahryar who, upon discovering he was being cuckolded by his consort (which he only found out because of his brother being similarly betrayed by his wife, leading Shahryar to investigate whether such was not likewise happening to him, only to be bitterly disappointed with his findings), concluded that all women are likewise treacherous, and not to be trusted. After disposing of his faithless spouse, he embarks upon a series of one-night marriages, where he executes his new bride each morning before she has a chance to dishonor him in her turn.

At a certain point, he runs out of virgins of noble blood worthy of his (dubious) affections, and his vizier is unable to supply him with a night’s, ah, entertainment. His daughter, Scheherazade, offers herself as the sultan’s next bride, and reluctantly agrees to allow her. As much as he does not wish his daughter harm, he has a responsibility to his sultan that puts his own life on the line if he fails to satisfy him, too, and so he ultimately determines that, if this is her wish, he is in no position to stop her. He does, after all, have another daughter.

However, whether he is aware of it or not, the vizier has not raised fools for daughters. Together, they conspire to soften the sultan’s heart and spare the elder girl’s life. At the close of their bridal night together, Scheherazade – fully aware of Shahryar’s habits and plan for her – asks permission to bid her younger sister one final farewell. Brought into the chamber, Dunyazad asks her older sister for one last story, which she begins telling her as the sultan listens, only to stop midway in. When the sultan protests that her story isn’t finished, she points out that the dawn is breaking, and she must now go meet her fate, to which the sultan relents, saying that it can wait until the story is concluded the next evening. But on the following night, when she finishes the story, it leads into another one, which she must again halt with the dawn; needless to say, this one also leads to a stay of execution for Scheherazade. And so it goes, for a thousand and one nights, with each successive night being easier for Shahryar to relent with his planned punishment. She even bears the sultan three sons over the course of time.

But all good things must come to an end, and after the eponymous thousand and one nights, she admits that she has run out of stories for the sultan, and only begs for the opportunity to bid her new sons goodbye before facing the axe. At this point, however, the sultan’s feelings for her has blossomed into true love, and, his rage against womankind thus dissipated, he issues her a full pardon and makes her his queen.

Today, my dearest, marks one thousand and one days straight that I have been able to write to you about one thing or another, and I confess to being in awe of Scheherazade’s abilities. Not all of my stories have been particularly memorable, and they most certainly haven’t been sufficient to occupy one’s attention for the entirety of any given evening (although in all honesty, it’s not as if any of those nights between Scheherazade and her sultan were entirely spent telling stories – those three little boys would have been more than proof of that). And I’ve had the advantage of being able to leave the house (as well as modify it while I’ve been here) and speak of my own travels and other experiences, for instance, as opposed to being confined within the seraglio as she most likely would have been.

On the other hand, I’ve limited myself to what has happened to me; Scheherazade and Dunyazad were reciting from their voracious readings of the library of stories they had grown up with under the tutelage and collections of their father (whether he was aware of it or not); the folklore of the Middle East, while occasionally anachronistic against the time period in which Scheherazade was said to have lived in, was and is rich enough to fill the mind with stories enough to supply a man with entertainment to last a lifetime. And perhaps the inspiration provided by the urgency of one’s life being at stake didn’t diminish the level of excitement baked into the tales she told her sultan. Even without the stories we think of as integral to the volume, such as those of Aladdin, Ali Baba and Sinbad, being in the earliest known extant versions, there was more than enough material to keep the sultan occupied and give him a chance to fall in love with his most skilled storyteller.

Then again, it’s not like my letters don’t include the occasional pop cultural reference, be it a song, a video or an entire movie or television episode, so once again, I have to admit to having advantages that Scheherazade didn’t. And yet, I don’t think I could have saved my life with these stories; although that might be due to the fact that the proliferation of available media these days renders them somewhat dull in comparison. There just wasn’t as much clamoring for one’s attention (other than, of course, the demands of rulership that the harem served as Shahryar’s one escape from) in terms of entertainment.

So, while I know I still have stories to tell – and I probably will continue to tell them until such time as Megumi presents herself and takes my attention away, perhaps not for ever, but for a time here and there – I still find myself in awe of Scheherazade’s ability to offer tale after tale, enrapturing a man clearly not predisposed to favor her (another place where I have an advantage over her that I’m not using as well as she could have). All of which may be part of why I haven’t yet arrived at the happy ending she reached at the end of this length of time.

But I’m still here, I suppose, so that must count for something, and there will be another story tomorrow, I can guarantee you that. So until then, honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.