Osiris, Hermes Trismegistus, Jesus Christ

Into this mix of gods arrives Jesus Christ Superstar. From the grammar of the multitude comes the Word of the Father: Hebraic law handed down by Moses and the patriarchs to the Israelites in their flight from Egypt. “In the beginning was the Word,” yes: but Word that becomes flesh as the body and blood of Christ. Church fathers assemble into the anthology of the New Testament the testimonies of Christ’s followers, appending these to Hebrew scripture. From the Word of the Father comes the Word of the Son, old covenant replaced by the new.

When, in the fourth century AD, Rome’s emperors embrace the words of He they once crucified, the Text of the Judeo-Christian Greco-Roman synthesis begins its spread along its path of westward expansion, replacing the many with the one.

Reed, a proponent of multiculturalism, son of those whose ancestors were, more than a thousand years after the death of Christ, captured by Christians and brought to Turtle Island as slaves, replies by remembering Osiris, the Ancient Egyptian Lord of the Underworld and Judge of the Dead.

The Osiris myth is the most elaborate and influential story in Ancient Egyptian mythology. Osiris has two siblings, Isis and Set. Osiris marries his sister Isis. Moved by jealousy, Set kills Osiris and usurps his throne as king of Egypt. Osiris is dismembered, parts of his body strewn across the kingdom. Isis, grieving the loss of her beloved, restores Osiris’s body, reanimates his corpse, so that the couple can posthumously conceive their son Horus, who, imbued with the spirit of his father, eventually defeats Set and restores order to the kingdom.

Plutarch’s essay, “On Isis and Osiris,” is one of the few texts to preserve this myth amid the timelines and wisdom traditions of the West. As Earl Fontainelle notes in Episode 68 of the SHWEP, “No one could read ancient Egyptian from late antiquity until the development of modern Egyptology (the Rosetta Stone and that whole business). Thus, almost every scrap of Egyptian religion was totally lost until the nineteenth century. The material preserved by Plutarch is the sole major exception to this rule. In other words, Plutarch’s ‘On Isis and Osiris’ was, for most of Western history, all we knew about Egyptian religion.”

By the time of Derrida, the aperture onto the past had expanded well beyond Plutarch, thanks to tellings of these myths in works recovered by Egyptologists. In the footnotes to his account of Thoth in “Plato’s Pharmacy,” Derrida refers us to Adolf Erman’s Handbook of Egyptian Religion and André-Jean Festugiere’s four-volume study of the Corpus Hermeticum.

For this, too, is how Thoth persists in the wisdom traditions of the West. He lives by way of “hermeticism”: that strange corpus of literature associated with, attributed to, said to be written by “one of the great matinee idols of esoteric lore: Hermes Trismegistus” (TechGnosis, p. 9).

Frances A. Yates surveys much of this lore in her book The Art of Memory.

From hermeticism we get groups like the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. With the Golden Dawn, the focus shifts to Tarot.

The Book of Thoth

Reed places at the center of his novel a Text over which opposing parties struggle. Around novel’s midway, we learn that this Text is called the Book of Thoth (94). Reed refers to it again later as “the 1st anthology written by the 1st choreographer” (164). Nor is he the first to imagine such a text. Drawing from references found in ancient Egyptian mythology, thinkers across the ages have written works alleging to be Books of Thoth. In some iterations, it’s a magic book, often containing two spells: one allowing understanding of the speech of animals, and another allowing perception of the gods. Lacking access to it themselves, mythographers of the West eye the suppressed original with a mixture of fear and desire. It is, in at least some of their accounts, a dangerous book, containing knowledge humans aren’t meant to possess.

As readers read Reed’s novel, they’re made to wonder: Why is Jes Grew searching for its “Text”? And why is this text the Book of Thoth?

“Someone once said,” writes Reed, “that beneath or behind all political and cultural warfare lies a struggle between secret societies. Another author suggested that the Nursery Rhyme and the book of Science Fiction might be more revolutionary than any number of tracts, pamphlets, manifestoes of the political realm” (18).

Perhaps Thoth’s Book, this “1st anthology,” is an anthology like the Bible, or indeed like Mumbo Jumbo itself. Each one revolutionary in kind, each a set of Nursery Rhymes and books of Science Fiction.

Let’s pursue this suggestion, shall we? How do works of literature aid revolution? Are poets the unacknowledged legislators of the world, as Percy Bysshe Shelley claimed in his 1821 essay, “A Defense of Poetry”?

The Atonists, we learn, have suppressed the ideas of their opponents: censoring, prohibiting, causing a deflation of consciousness, a mass forgetting across history.

“PaPa LaBas knew the fate of those who threatened the Atonist Path,” writes Reed. “Their writings were banished, added to the Index of Forbidden Books or sprinkled with typos as a way of undermining their credibility […]. An establishment which had been in operation for 2,000 years had developed some pretty clever techniques. Their enemies, apostates and heretics were placed in dungeons, hanged or exiled or ostracized occasionally by their own people who, due to the domination of their senses by Atonism, were robbed of any concerns other than mundane ones” (47).

Healing from the traumas inflicted by the Atonists requires an act of remembering. A process of anamnesis.

As I read Mumbo Jumbo, I’m reminded of Frederick Douglass’s autobiography and the importance granted by Douglass to acquisition of literacy. The written word comes to function for Douglass as the key enabling him to unlock the door of his prison. Literacy becomes the sign of difference distinguishing the ignorant from the knowledgeable, categories that under slavery were racialized, mapped onto the enslaved and the free. Douglass doesn’t do much to question these distinctions. Orality gives way to literacy, and thus slavery gives way to freedom.

Yet Jes Grew spreads the same way black folktales spread — through oral transmission, supported by music and dance. This transmission persists despite vast slaveowner efforts to separate captured Africans from their native tongue, forcing them to communicate in the master’s tongue. As Samuel R. Delany notes, “When…we say that this country was founded on slavery, we must remember that we mean, specifically, that it was founded on the systematic, conscientious, and massive destruction of African cultural remnants” (as quoted in Dery, “Black to the Future,” pp. 190-191). Captors hoarded access to writing skills, with slaves actively denied opportunity to make use of this form of techne.

Poet Audre Lorde famously warned, “The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House.” I read Reed’s work in dialogue with Lorde’s. Both weigh in, decades in advance, on what Marxists like Nick Dyer-Witheford would later call “the reconfiguration debate.” (For more on the latter, see Dyer-Witheford et al.’s Inhuman Power: Artificial Intelligence and the Future of Capitalism, pp. 147-149.) Writing Mumbo Jumbo in the years prior to Lorde’s warning, Reed doesn’t shy away from handling the Master’s tools. Science fiction, detective fiction: these are, after all, Western languages, technologies, genres, cultural forms. Like the jazz musicians who populate his novel, Reed’s handling of such tools transforms them into instruments of play. And while his performances may not yet have brought down the House, they do go some way toward dismantling it.

His suggestion is that the opposition between the oral and the written is based on a misconception. “For what good is a liturgy,” he asks,” without a text?” (6).

The Language of Birds

My study of oracles and divination practices leads me back to Dale Pendell’s book The Language of Birds: Some Notes on Chance and Divination.

The race is on between ratio and divinatio. The latter is a Latin term related to divinare, “to predict,” and divinus, meaning “to divine” or “pertaining to the gods,” notes Pendell.

To delve deeper into the meaning of divination, however, we need to go back to the Greeks. For them, the term for divination is manteia. The prophet or prophetess is mantis, related to mainomai, “to be mad,” and mania, “madness” (24). The prophecies of the mantic ones are meaningful, insisted thinkers like Socrates, because there is meaning in madness.

What others call “mystical experiences,” known only through narrative testimonies of figures taken to be mantics: these phenomena are in fact subjects of discussion in the Phaedrus. The discussion continues across time, through the varied gospels of the New Testament, traditions received here in a living present, awaiting reply. Each of us confronts a question: “Shall we seek such experiences ourselves — and if so, by what means?” Many of us shrug our shoulders and, averse to risk, pursue business as usual. Yet a growing many choose otherwise. Scientists predict. Mantics aim to thwart the destructiveness of the parent body. Mantics are created ones who, encountering their creator, receive permission to make worlds in their own likeness or image. Reawakened with memory of this world waning, they set to work building something new in its place.

Pendell lays the matter out succinctly, this dialogue underway between computers and mad prophets. “Rationality. Ratio. Analysis,” writes the poet, free-associating his way toward meaning. “Pascal’s adding machine: stacks of Boolean gates. Computers can beat grandmasters: it’s clear that logical deduction is not our particular forte. Madness may be” (25). Pendell refers on several occasions to computers, robots, and Turing machines. “Alan Turing’s oracles were deterministic,” he writes, “and therefore not mad, and, as Roger Penrose shows, following Gödel’s proof, incapable of understanding. They can’t solve the halting problem. Penrose suggests that a non-computational brain might need a quantum time loop, so that the results of future computations are available in the present” (32).