The Pitch of B♭ (Preface)

Scientists became aware at the beginning of the new millennium, and announced three years later, that the Perseus galaxy cluster, 250 million light years from our own planet, was emitting the note of B♭, or a series of those notes, which ''appear as pressure waves roiling and spreading as a result of outbursts from a supermassive black hole,'' in the words of Dennis Overbye, a science reporter for The New York Times.

The notes have a period of oscillation of 10 million years, which makes them ''the lowest note in the universe.'' So said Dr. Andrew Fabian, an X-ray astronomer at Cambridge University in England and the leader of the team that discovered the note. 

At this point, I needed to know if B♭ had a harmonic connection. Thus, I did some checking. It turns out that if you convert the value of B♭, you will get the harmonic of the Speed of Light.

Moreover, the tenor and bass saxophones, my principal instruments of choice for many years, are pitched in B♭; as is the supercontrabass saxophone that I one day hope to acquire also pitched in B♭.

Robin, or Rah Bin-Bhai as he called himself upon his return from the East in the late Sixties, was later drawn to the most evangelical end of the spectrum imaginable, eventually throwing in his lot with a Pentecostal church in the early Seventies; at which point nobody ever heard from Robin again.

I, on the other hand, was constantly veering in a more traditional direction, having been a Church of England chorister before the pull of the Catholic persuasion had me attending the Tridentine Mass and consequently being expelled from the Anglican choir. I converted to the new denomination more in keeping with my spiritual need until the reforms of the Second Vatican Council kicked in with my slow realisation that the last legitimate pontiff was Pius XII who had died in 1958. As a sedevacantist, there was nowhere left for me to go save those autonomous jurisdictions of a similar kidney.

Though I was to remain thereafter a traditionalist, ie orthodox in my beliefs, I gradually understood by the Seventies that my path was more mystical than "habitual," more spiritual than "religious," and that "churchianity" held far less appeal than the Christianity which I expressed from deep within my being.

Hence the spiritual aspect of my creative art, writing, music, thoughts and lifestyle was pre-eminent. 

The beginning of the novel introduces the Music Master, the resident of Castalia who recruits Knecht as a young student and who is to have the most long-lasting and profound effect on Knecht throughout his life. At one point, as the Music Master nears death in his home at Monteport, Knecht obliquely refers to the Master's "sainthood." As a student, another meaningful friendship develops with Plinio Designori, a student from a politically influential family, who is studying in Castalia as a guest. Knecht develops many of his personal views about what larger good Castalia can achieve through vigorous debates with Designori, who views Castalia as an "ivory tower" with little to no impact on the outside world.

Although educated within Castalia, Knecht's path to "Magister Ludi" is atypical for the order, as he spends a significant portion of his time after graduation outside the boundaries of the province. His first such venture, to the Bamboo Grove, results in his learning Chinese and becoming something of a disciple to Elder Brother, a recluse who had given up living within Castalia. Next, as part of an assignment to foster goodwill between the order and the Catholic Church, Knecht is sent on several "missions" to the Benedictine monastery of Mariafels, where he befriends the historian Father Jacobus – a relationship which also has profound personal impact for Knecht.

As the novel progresses, Knecht begins to question his loyalty to the order, gradually coming to doubt that the intellectually gifted have a right to withdraw from life's big problems. Knecht, too, comes to see Castalia as a kind of ivory tower, an ethereal and protected community, devoted to pure intellectual pursuits but oblivious to the problems posed by life outside its borders. This conclusion precipitates a personal crisis, and, according to his personal views regarding spiritual awakening, Knecht does the unthinkable: he resigns as Magister Ludi and asks to leave the order, ostensibly to become of value and service to the larger culture. The heads of the order deny his request to leave, but Knecht departs Castalia anyway, initially taking a job as a tutor to his childhood friend Designori's energetic and strong-willed son, Tito. Only a few days later, the story ends abruptly with Knecht drowning in a mountain lake while attempting to follow Tito on a swim for which Knecht was unfit.

The fictional narrator leaves off before the final sections of the book, remarking that the end of the story is beyond the scope of his biography. The concluding chapter, entitled "The Legend", is reportedly from a different biography. After this final chapter, several of Knecht's "posthumous" works are then presented. 

The lives, together with that as Magister Ludi, oscillate between extroversion and introversion (father confessor, Magister Ludi) while developing the four basic psychic functions of analytical psychology: sensation, intuition, feeling, and thinking (Magister Ludi).

My friend from fifty years ago read this book. I should mention that he worked in a library, albeit in the gramophone record section. I held the heavy tome in my hands, but decided not to read it. I felt it would be superfluous. The book to read, the slimmest by Hermann Hesse, is Journey to the East.

On one occasion when I was paying this library a visit, Robin wafted from behind the gramophone desk where he normally swayed to and forth, and accompanied me to the reading section. When I arrived home I realised he had slipped a book into my jacket pocket, one that originated from the library's shelves. It was James Patrick Donleavy's A Singular Man. I still possess that amusing novel.

Robin, however, is long gone, and hasn't been spotted since 1973. In a letter written in 1973 from Morocco, he confessed that his behaviour had been less than exemplary, particularly toward his girlfriend. He admitted that he had made a pass at my girlfriend; something I already knew because she instantly informed me. We all liked Robin. There was no need to disappear and have oblivion efface him, which is what happened. He had cuckolded another friend, also named Robin, but was instantly forgiven. The two Robins had been the best of friends. It was too late. The bird had flown.

Robin (aka Rah Bin-Bhai)