At the sold-out show, among the amazed Londoners, sits a man in a grey suit.
During the entire performance, he does not speak nor applaud, but simply stares at Prospero.
Completely unimpressed, once the show is over, he goes backstage and opens the door to Prospero's dressing room by tapping his cane on the door.
Now, I understand that magic is a large part of this book, and that Morgenstern wanted to show that this man had the ability to use magic, but he could have just as easily just opened the door by turning the doorknob.
The two greet each other, and the man in the grey suit tells Hector that he does not approve of using their gift to make money off of the unsuspecting public.
Hector's response includes what is possibly the only sentence that I would quote him on:
"They [the magicians] are a bunch of fish covered in feathers trying to convince the public they can fly, and I am simply a bird in their midst." (In case you can't tell, Hector Bowen is not exactly my favorite character.) Still, though, the man in the grey suit remains disapproving of Hector using magic, but he moves on to ask why Hector invited him to visit from wherever he had been previously (because I honestly have no idea.)
And this is where this book takes a turn for the douchebag.
Hector tells the man that he wants to play a "game," which ends up being bad enough in itself, but we'll get back to that.
He brings Celia out, introducing the man as Alexander, and calling her, yes, calling his young daughter, his "new project."
Congratulations, sir! You are a terrible parent.
He makes Celia spin a watch on the table using magic, and when the man calls it "impressive" but "very basic", she becomes angry and the watch shatters. When she mends it, he takes more notice.
For the only time in his life, Hector is visibly proud of his daughter, as he has only been teaching her for eight months and clearly has natural ability.
The man agrees, but remarks that her temper is problematic.
They continue to talk, but they "muddle" their voices so that Celia cannot understand what they are saying.
"'You would wager your own child?'
'She won't lose,' Hector says. 'I suggest you find a student you can tolerate parting with, if you do not already have one to spare.'
'I assume her mother has no opinion on the matter?'
'You assume correctly.'
The man in the grey suit considers the girl for some time before he speaks again, and still, she does not comprehend the words.
'I understand your confidence in her ability, though I encourage you to at least consider the possibility that she could be lost, should the competition not play out in her favor. I will find a player to truly challenge her. Otherwise there is no reason for me to agree to participate. Her victory cannot be guaranteed.'
'That is a risk I am willing to take,' Hector says without even glancing at his daughter. 'If you would like to make it official here and now, go right ahead.'"
So basically, Hector is willing to enter his young daughter in an incredibly intense, very vague competition in which she might die. For his entertainment.
He is the man that launched a thousand Social Services investigations.
The man slides a silver ring on her finger that burns into her skin (the child abuse only goes downhill from here) before fading and leaving a scar that (I assume) binds her to the competition. He tells Hector that he needs time to find his own player, and Hector gives him a gold ring to be used when a student is a found.
The man in the grey suit references his own player winning the last competition (which will come up later, though I wouldn't call it "winning"), and Hector tells him that Chandresh Lefevre will be organizing the "venue" for the competition (it's the circus).
They discuss rules, and decide that there will be no time limit, which really does mean no time limit, because this game takes decades.
The man in the grey suit says goodbye to Celia, who curtseys, and then leaves.
After he is gone, Celia asks why her father called the man Alexander, when it is not his name, and Hector asks how she knew that.
"'It's not a real name,' she says. 'Not one that he's carried with him always. It's one he wears like his hat. So he can take it off if he wants. Like Prospero is for you.'"
I retract my previous statement. There are two sentences by Hector that I would quote.
"'You are more even more clever than I could have hoped,'" he says, and the chapter ends with him placing his silk top hat on his daughter's much smaller head, where it slides over her eyes. A brief, fleeting moment of caring.
Thoughts so far? If so please comment, or go to our Twitter and/or Instagram. Chapter 3 should be out before next Sunday.
And this is where this book takes a turn for the douchebag.
Hector tells the man that he wants to play a "game," which ends up being bad enough in itself, but we'll get back to that.
He brings Celia out, introducing the man as Alexander, and calling her, yes, calling his young daughter, his "new project."
Congratulations, sir! You are a terrible parent.
He makes Celia spin a watch on the table using magic, and when the man calls it "impressive" but "very basic", she becomes angry and the watch shatters. When she mends it, he takes more notice.
For the only time in his life, Hector is visibly proud of his daughter, as he has only been teaching her for eight months and clearly has natural ability.
The man agrees, but remarks that her temper is problematic.
They continue to talk, but they "muddle" their voices so that Celia cannot understand what they are saying.
"'You would wager your own child?'
'She won't lose,' Hector says. 'I suggest you find a student you can tolerate parting with, if you do not already have one to spare.'
'I assume her mother has no opinion on the matter?'
'You assume correctly.'
The man in the grey suit considers the girl for some time before he speaks again, and still, she does not comprehend the words.
'I understand your confidence in her ability, though I encourage you to at least consider the possibility that she could be lost, should the competition not play out in her favor. I will find a player to truly challenge her. Otherwise there is no reason for me to agree to participate. Her victory cannot be guaranteed.'
'That is a risk I am willing to take,' Hector says without even glancing at his daughter. 'If you would like to make it official here and now, go right ahead.'"
So basically, Hector is willing to enter his young daughter in an incredibly intense, very vague competition in which she might die. For his entertainment.
He is the man that launched a thousand Social Services investigations.
The man slides a silver ring on her finger that burns into her skin (the child abuse only goes downhill from here) before fading and leaving a scar that (I assume) binds her to the competition. He tells Hector that he needs time to find his own player, and Hector gives him a gold ring to be used when a student is a found.
The man in the grey suit references his own player winning the last competition (which will come up later, though I wouldn't call it "winning"), and Hector tells him that Chandresh Lefevre will be organizing the "venue" for the competition (it's the circus).
They discuss rules, and decide that there will be no time limit, which really does mean no time limit, because this game takes decades.
The man in the grey suit says goodbye to Celia, who curtseys, and then leaves.
After he is gone, Celia asks why her father called the man Alexander, when it is not his name, and Hector asks how she knew that.
"'It's not a real name,' she says. 'Not one that he's carried with him always. It's one he wears like his hat. So he can take it off if he wants. Like Prospero is for you.'"
I retract my previous statement. There are two sentences by Hector that I would quote.
"'You are more even more clever than I could have hoped,'" he says, and the chapter ends with him placing his silk top hat on his daughter's much smaller head, where it slides over her eyes. A brief, fleeting moment of caring.
Thoughts so far? If so please comment, or go to our Twitter and/or Instagram. Chapter 3 should be out before next Sunday.
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