Primitive Man

Primitive Man: such a cringeworthy, politically incorrect title by today’s standards. The book described in the following story is actually Joseph Campbell’s The Way of the Animal Powers, the first volume in his Historical Atlas of World Mythology (Alfred van der Marck Editions / Harper and Row, 1983). I didn’t read it in childhood, as the character in the story does. Rather, after lusting after it for months, I bought it shortly before writing my story (it was expensive, but worth it). I can’t remember now why I didn’t name the book in my story and the story itself after Campbell’s book. Maybe I thought his title was cumbersome or was afraid I’d get sued? But in any case, I came up with my title based on language in Campbell’s book. Encountering my story from 1987 after not having looked at it for decades is an out-of-body experience for me. My now-sixty-something self floats above her thirty-something self, who is in turn floating over the twelve-year-old me, trying to channel her into some blend of poetry and prose. The story, if it can be called a story, is a stream of childhood details plus a certain percent of fictionalizing. It was a thrill to have a book published by Raymond Foye and Francesco Clemente’s Hanuman Books. I revere many writers they published, was introduced to several writers via the series, and am still delighted by the palm-of the-hand format. I wish more books for adults were published in tiny, super-portable sizes. The bright colors and gold lettering on the Hanuman volumes makes them like confections, little literary treats, even if their content is dark  by Amy Gerstler.