The pain of the pseudonymous

Rushdie has derisively referred to Cornwell as `my pseudonymous friend’ in the columns of The Guardian, settling scores in a war of letters which the former started on November 22 and which continued for the next four days. Both the writers used sophisticated prose to cover the vitriol of their pens. But the unkindest cut was when Rushdie capitalised on the cover which Cornwell had chosen for himself when he adopted the pen-name and sneered it him as merely `pseudonymous’.

Nobody knows for certain whether Cornwell enjoys the unique though none too covetable honour of being the first of the popular writers to be derided for choosing a pen-name. And if that is so, to whom can he complain?

Obviously he can’t go to Junius, one of the most enigmatic of figures in the history of English literature. Junius was a Ripper in his own right. He shredded the reputations of some of the leading figures of his times through the columns of the journals. He preceded Jack the Ripper, the one who ripped women of easy virtue and defied the detective skill of the sharpest of cops on the rolls of Scotland Yard, by over a century. Like the Ripper, Junius too shone bright for a short duration and then pulled down the shutters. Neither of the Rippers went about claiming credit for their acts. Even today, their identities remain untraced.

Had he been around today, Junius could have told Cornwell that one can’t have one’s cake and eat it too, that by proclaiming to the whole world that he is the man behind the pseudonym, he has violated the code by which Rippers thrive and prosper. “Sorry, Cornwell. You have conned yourself rather well by failing to keep the secret. Loudmouths always come a cropper,” Junius may sneer.

Can Cornwell seek out A.G. Gardiner as an ideal sob-sitter? Cornwell may address Gardiner by his pen-name, ask him, “O Alpha of the Plough! Did you ever pay a price for adopting a pen-name?”

“I ploughed my way through easily, I never ran into any trouble whatsoever. Know why? I chose my pen-name wisely. Alpha is the first letter of the Greek alphabet. Alpha enjoys primacy. Alpha remains unbeaten. Alpha of the Plough dug deep. None had the audacity to fight Alpha of the Plough.” And, then Gardiner may add, in a conspiratorial tone: “But then, a man like Rushdie was not around.”

Cornwell may turn to others who have used pseudonyms for solace. He may hunt down Pandit Nehru who wrote, once, under the pen-name, Chanakya, to reflect his personality; or go to the author of the sensational novel, Primary Colours by Anonymous, which led everyone to identify the possible author as President Clinton till the real author came out and had a hearty laugh at everyone’s expense. But nowhere is he likely to get a satisfying response.Rushdie has called him a `pseudonymous friend’. Poor Cornwell can’t even scream at Rushdie for what the former rightly considers a hit below the belt and shout, “It’s a crying Shame.” For, then, he may run the risk of being called a plagiarist too.