David returns from the kitchen with a bottle of wine.
"Anyone want some cabernet?"
"I'll have a glass," says Julie.
"I'll have some too," I say. "And an amethyst if you've got one."
David cocks his head.
"Amethysts protect against drunkenness, according to the ancients," I say.
"Is that so?" says David.
"Yes. I don't want to end up like Alexander the Great, who died after getting ill from a drinking bout."
"No, I suppose not," says David. He laughs. Nervously, I think.
Julie turns back to Shannon, hoping to resume the vacation talk. "So, which hotel?"
"We've got reservations at this place I found in Conde Nast Traveler -- "
"Also, speaking of alcohol consumption," I say, "what country do you think has the highest per capita rate? I'll give you a hint: it's not Ireland."
"Hmm. Is it France?" asks Shannon. She's very polite.
"Nope. Not France. The residents of Luxembourg are the biggest boozers in the world."
"Who woulda thunk?" I ask. "Luxembourg! But seriously, do not get between a Luxembourgian and a bottle of whiskey!" I say, shaking my head and laughing.
Part of me is hoping Shannon and David won't notice that all my facts start with A. But at the same time, I'm also kind of longing to be exposed. I've already logged thirty hours reading my encyclopedia, and I want them to ooh and aaah at my accomplishment. Maybe Julie senses this, or maybe she just wants to avoid further embarrassment, but she decides to spill my secret.
"A.J.'s decided to read the encyclopedia," she tells Shannon. "And he's only in the As, so you'll be hearing a lot of A facts."
"The encyclopedia?" says David. "That's some light reading."
"Yeah, it'll be good on the beach," I say.
"Seriously, why are you reading the encyclopedia?" says Shannon.
I had prepared for this. I had my answer.
"Well, there's an African folktale I think is relevant here. Once upon a time, there's this tortoise who steals a gourd that contains all the knowledge of the world. He hangs it around his neck. When he comes to a tree trunk lying across road, he can't climb over it because the gourd is in his way. He's in such a hurry to get home, he smashes the gourd. And ever since, wisdom has been scattered across the world in tiny pieces. So, I want to try to gather all that wisdom and put it together."
"I guess you're not up to P, for 'Please shut up,' " says Julie.
They all laugh at that one.
Next morning, it's back to my daily dose of Britannica. Arabian horses have twenty-three vertebrae instead of the twenty-four found in most horses. I spend a moment trying to think of a situation in which this information might be useful. Maybe I could write a mystery story where the identification of an Arabian horse skeleton is a major plot point. Maybe I could win a bar bet with a moderately -- but not overly -- knowledgeable equestrian. Who knows?
I was aware that Asimov was a major figure in American literature, the author of numerous science fiction and science books. I didn't know just how many books: about five hundred. The man wrote five hundred books. I don't think I've written five hundred Post-it notes. He wrote so many books, even his biographers are reduced to the vague "about five hundred." The Britannica can be depressing that way. As you read accomplishment after accomplishment, Nobel after Nobel, you are reminded just how little you've done with your life. My entry -- if written today -- would look something like this:
From The Know-It-All by A.J. Jacobs. Pages 7-30 of the hardcover edition. Copyright © 2004 by A.J. Jacobs
Blood at the Root
"A gripping, timely, and important examination of American racism."
- PW Starred Review
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