Through a remembrance darkly

Earlier in the year I read Phillip Pullman's "His Dark Materials" trilogy, a series of books I enjoyed tremendously. This was brought to mind recently when I discovered that that National Theatre will be staging a production based on books come December. Naturally, I'm curious, since the books contain materials that I would imagine make it something of a challenge to translate to the stage (a polar bear as one of the lead characters, an expedition to the artic assisted by a battalion of witches on broomsticks, oh, and the armies of a thousand worlds engaging in a war against heaven and god - to name just a few). Nevertheless, my curiousity is certainly piqued and I'll most definitely trot along to see how the story has fared (and it is a good story - I highly recommend seeking it out the books if you haven't already done so).

Oddly enough, I discovered the books after being recommended them by Geno, a friend at work. We were discussing books in general, and Geno asked if I'd ever read any of the trilogy. I had to confess that I'd never even heard of them, or the author, let alone read any of them.

Except I then proceeded to relate the happenings of the first chapter.

"I thought you said you hadn't read them," said Geno looking somewhat bemused.

"I haven't," I replied, looking even more bemused.

I picked up the first book the following weekend, and discovered that I had indeed read the first chapter. Or at least, the contents of the first chapter were lodged somewhere inside my head - I just have no idea how they got there. Although I know I must have encountered it somewhere, I really have no memory of it. A little bit worrying, since I usually have pretty good recall of such things, especially in cases like this where it was a story I literally couldn't put down - I ploughed through the book in an evening or two.

The more prosaic explanation is that I simply read it and forgot about it. And since I haven't been able to come up with any other explanation that will have to suffice, however unsatisfying it may feel to me. It's times like this I rather wish I could bring myself to believe in more preternatural explanations for such things: The voices in my head put it there, for example.

Come to think of it, the voices in my head have been a little quiet lately.

Bad sign.

Usually means they're plotting something...