Anthony Burgess was hardcore

I was reading Anthony Burgess' memoirs while gathering materials on his primitive man language for "Quest for Fire" (read his 1981 account on the thing - it is pure bliss). Among other things i have found rather hilarious story about his study of James Joyce's "Finnegans Wake" titled "Joysprick".

The story goes - Burgess was working on a study of Joyce's use of language in "Finnegans Wake" when he went to Italy. One day Burgess put his precious manuscript into a fancy bag and went to do some photocopies of the manuscript. And then some petty thug on a motorcycle snatched the bag and went away. Here's how Burgess tells the story:

"I wrote a book on the language of James Joyce, I carried it in its Gucci case towards a Xeroxshop to be copied, but it was scippato on the way. The typescript was presumably fluttered into the Tiber or Tevere and the case sold for a few thousand lire...

These scippatori were never caught by the police, who probably shared in their proceeds: their little motorcycles were not legally obliged to be fitted with a targa or numberplate. Petty crime is excused, or even exalted, by the greater crimes of the Quirinale."

Usually, when such thing happens - it is a legitimate tragedy. Just think about it - you spent a lot of time working on it, put a lot of effort, you've been thinking about it in numerous dimensions, structuring, sketching, hatching, belching - and then it is gone and it will never come back. Losing your work, especially in such frustratingly random manner is crushing. It hurts real bad. But Anthony Burgess was no ordinary sensible artiste. He was breaking the pattern of surviving misery.

 

Burgess had the guts to shrug it off like it is nothing and say "So What?" in an unimpressed manner. Instead of trying to retriece a manuscript or simply go on - he rewrote the entire book from his memory. Because that is the most obvious thing you can with a language study of one of the most complex novels of the 20th century. Not only that but he also stated that the whole ordeal made the book better.

The way he put it is exceptional piece of self-criticism:

"...I had to write the book again, not with too much resentment: it was probably better the second time.

... 

"I wrote the book again at once, since my brain had already photocopied it but cerebral photocopies are apt to fade."

 

 This little story is a lesson of grit and tenacity.