Boy Lost in the Maze , livre ebook

Otter-Barry Books - Joseph Coelho

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188 pages

English

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In his new verse novel, Joseph Coelho brilliantly blends Greek myth with a 21st century quest. In Ancient Greece Theseus makes a dangerous and courageous journey to find his father, finally meeting the Minotaur in the Labyrinth. While Theo, a modern-day teenage boy, finds himself on a maze-like quest to find his own father. Each story tells of a boy becoming a man and discovering what true manhood really means.The path to self-discovery takes Theo through 'those thin spaces where myth, magic and reality combine'. Doubts, difficulties and dangers must be faced as Theo discovers the man he will become.

Informations

Publié par	Otter-Barry Books
Date de parution	10 novembre 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781915659019
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	3 Mo

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Extrait

For all who search J.C.
Text copyright Joseph Coelho 2022
Illustrations copyright Kate Milner 2022
First published in the UK in 2022 by
Otter-Barry Books, Little Orchard, Burley Gate, Herefordshire, HR1 3QS
www.otterbarrybooks.com
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electrical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher or a licence permitting restricted copying. In the United Kingdom such licences are issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, Barnard s Inn, 86 Fetter Lane, London EC4A 1EN
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Designed by Arianna Osti
ISBN 978-1-91565-901-9
Illustrated with pen and ink
Set in FF Folk Rough and Wunderlich
Printed in Great Britain
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
CONTENTS
Prologue The Oracle
Chapter 1 Theo
Chapter 2 The Minotaur s Story
Chapter 3 Theseus in Troezen - The First Labour
Chapter 4 Theo
Chapter 5 The Minotaur s Story - A Toddler
Chapter 6 Theseus and Sinis on the Isthmus
Chapter 7 Theo at Sinis Solutions
Chapter 8 The Minotaur s Story - A Boy
Chapter 9 Theseus and the Demon Pig
Chapter 10 Theo and the Croydon Sow
Chapter 11 The Minotaur s Story - A Teen
Chapter 12 Theseus and Sciron in Megara
Chapter 13 Theo and Sciron the Lawyer
Chapter 14 The Minotaur s Story - Becoming a Man
Chapter 15 Theseus and Cercyon, the Wrestler King in Eleusis
Chapter 16 Theo and the Wrestler
Chapter 17 Theseus and Procrustes, the Bed-Stretcher on the Plain of Eleusis
Chapter 18 Theo and the Bed-Stretcher
Chapter 19 Theseus and the Labyrinth
Chapter 20 Theo
About Theseus in Greek Mythology
THE ORACLE
Time moves in spirals,
we are flotsam on Time s sea.
Time moves in spirals
and repeats its tragedies.
This story is about two boys,
separated by centuries,
parted by myth,
divided by reality.
Two boys hoping to be men.
Two boys severed from their fathers.
Two boys searching a maze of manhood.
One in Ancient Greece
from a time of Magic and Mythos.
One in modern London,
a city of delusion and gloss.
I am the Oracle,
your thread through this maze
as two boys start their journeys.
No step will escape my gaze.
Let me hold your hand
through these dark and winding lands.
Let us discover together
what it means to be a man.
THEO FIRST HEARS OF THESEUS
I m doodling again,
geometric patterns and swirls.
Sir doesn t mind.
He lets me doodle -
knows it helps me think.
Sir is silent again. He does this thing
when he forgets words -
presses thumb and forefinger
to the bridge of his nose and massages,
like memory is a small furry thing
behind the eyes that needs coaxing.
He massages and ignores
our word offerings
until memory squeals to his stroking.
Manhood - Theseus story
is about manhood -
about fathers and sons,
about nature and nurture,
about legacy and destiny,
about parents and their children
and what it means to be a man.
I nearly say something
before remembering
the happy family kids around me -
the two-parent kids,
big-house-in-Putney kids,
been-on-a-plane kids,
have-the-full-Sky-package kids.
I rest my head back on my arms
and listen to Sir tell Theseus story.
I scratch a poem title
into my book...
Theseus Killed Them .

THESEUS KILLED THEM!
Your father is a king, said his mother.
Just lift this heavy rock -
he left some things for you
to prove you re kingly stock."
Beneath the rock he found:
sandals and a sword.
Sandals for a journey,
a sword for the criminal hordes.
Theseus walked his father s road
but the way was filled with tests.
He had to battle six enemies
and prove he was the best.
The first was Periphetes,
who was a little dim.
Theseus took his bronze club,
Theseus killed him.
The second was Sinis,
who killed with a bent-tree limb.
He ripped his victims in two,
Theseus killed him.
The third was a pig
who d been causing quite a stir.
She was the Crommyonian Sow,
Theseus killed her.
The fourth was named Sciron,
who gave his victims a surprise swim.
He d feed them to a monster turtle!
Theseus killed him.
The fifth was Cercymon,
A king who wrestled for a whim.
He d wrestle strangers to death,
Theseus killed him.
The sixth was innkeeper Procrustes,
who liked everything to be trim,
forcing guests to fit his bed!
Theseus killed him.
When the killing journey was done
Theseus found his father s kingdom grim,
the young yearly killed by the Minotaur...
so Theseus killed him!

ALL ABOUT THE MINOTAUR
We have to choose
a subject for our
English Coursework.
I choose
to write about Theseus.
Everything is just about him and the Minotaur.
I choose
to delve into his journey to his father.
I choose
to start reading
everything I can about him.
Everything is all about the bull.
Everything is all about the Minotaur.
Everything is about muscle and horns.
Everything is about bestial strength,
blood and bones.
I choose
to make my coursework
a series of poems
about his search for his father.

WHY CAN T I SEE DAD?
I ve noticed a silence
whenever I ask about my father.
Unspoken whisperings
mumble behind my mother s sealed lips.
I last saw him
in a mudslide of argument.
Told never to open the door to him,
to stonewall his calls
and brick up his letters.
Seventeen now and feeling the weight
of a father s absence.
Manhood s become a rock
I cannot lift alone.
It s more than the clich d stuff,
the girl stuff,
the body-changing stuff.
It s an energy thing.
A sit-back-and-relax-with-Dad thing.
A kick-off-your-sandals-and-trade-sword-stories thing.
But my mother s silence is immovable
as I try to pry up the edges
of her secrets.

OFFERINGS
Years of sacrifice,
years of feeding
quivering concerns
into the flaring snout of my mind.
I wanna see my dad
But he left us
I don t need him
But I miss him
If he cared he d call
Who can I ask...?
If he cared he d send a card
Who would understand?
What parts of me are like him?

THERE IS A STONE IN MY CHEST
Mark and I map the future
on a rainy walk home after school.
He wants to be a journalist,
his dad will teach him how to drive,
he s already picked his universities,
his parents will be at the Open Days,
his dad lets him sip raindrops of whisky
on sleepless nights.
His dad tells him how to talk to girls,
how to be respectful,
how to listen
like leaves listen to morning dew.
My mum tells me
You don t have to go to university,
no one in our family has. You ll drown.
My mum says
Splash your name onto the council housing list.
My mum says
Not another drab Parents' Evening -
I m not going again.
Dad would want me to go.
On his hailstone visits
he d complain to Mum...
Why can t this boy read?

Because no one taught me how.
There is a stone in my chest
when I think of my father.
A stone I cannot lift.
A stone that settles its weight
when I visit the barber s alone,
when my body blooms.
There is a stone in my chest
that I cannot lift.

A HISTORY OF BARBER SHOPS
I couldn t find
the one Dad used to take me to.
We d drive through the streets he knew.
He d clap hands with the owner,
tell the barber how to handle my hair,
what line to sculpt.
Talk and laugh
in patois I could barely understand.
Making me laugh in the mirror,
winking assurance
whenever the razor bit.
The barbers near me
were Italian and Greek.
Mum tried taking me,
asking from the opened door
Have you got anyone who can cut his hair?
Feeling a shame
in my mother s frustration
when the white barber
shook his head.
Part of me wonders
If he even heard
her mewled request,
defeated before it was even spoken.
Finding a barber was trial and error.
I tried one, a bull-horn bike ride away.
As I sat in the chair
the young men and women
would jump on how alone I was.
Notice they d never seen me before.
Unprotected, they d pounce,
asking the question
which has been a dreaded soundtrack to my life.
Is your mum black or your dad black?
Asking me how I saw myself,
telling me how I had to choose,
telling me how I would never be accepted.
I never went back to that barber s.
Mum found the new black barber s
hiding near the taxi rank
on one of our shopping trips.
Heaving with joy and laughter.
One side for the women,
the other for the men,
the laughter and joking
sailing the air in between.
They met me with smiles,
welcomed me to a seat
by a stack of magazines.
Instantly accepted.
Instantly family.
I breathed in the atmosphere,
the smells of cherry hair spray,
the heat from tongs and clippers,
the joy of the barber's welcome
as he signalled me with a nod
into the embrace of the chair.
Habit had me looking in the mirror,
searching for my father s wink.
Instead I found the warmth of the barber
and nestled my skull
into the caress of his gentle fingertips.
You go Elliot, innit?
He was a sixth-former at my school.
When I battled through the younger years
he became a playground guardian,
asking if I was all right
when bullies strayed too near,
reminding me with a smile
You gotta get your hair cut yeah! Come see me.
Being older, he left before me
and another barber took his chair.
Once again
I searched for my father in the mirror.

THEO S JOURNEY TO THE ROCK
My dad lives nearby,
a bus ride away,
a stone s throw away.
I have a weighted memory
of going to Dad s flat
during his rainbow visits.
It s been years
but his address is tagged
in my memory.
On the 14 bus after school
my weighted chest sinks lower.
I watch as the posh kids
from the posh schools
skip on and fly off at Chelsea and Kensington,
laughing about holidays,
complaining about doting parents.
I watch through flint eyes
as posh kids get replaced
by pebble-dash tourists
through London s grey.
My heart cements
as I imagine re-meeting my father.
Will he want