The Book of Sand

“It’s not only Bibles I sell. I can show you a sacred book that might interest a man such as yourself. I came by it in northern India, in Bikaner.”

Here, the salesman reveals that the book is sacred, despite not being able to read any of its contents. The origin of the book is also revealed, creating a circular argument that links the ideas of spirituality and Eastern cultures: It is sacred because it came from India, and India is sacred because it produced the book. The salesman believes the narrator will be interested in the book because he has already shown interest in the Bible, which is also considered sacred.

“‘Nineteenth century, I’d say,’ I observed. ‘I don’t know,’ was the reply. ‘Never did know.’”

The narrator probes for more information on the book, here, taking a guess at the century in which it was created. The 19th century was just one century prior to the writing of the story, which lends to the assumption that the book is not that old in contrast to the others in his collection. However, the salesman’s reply and the supernatural nature of the book contradict the narrator’s assumption, implying that the book is much older than he assumed. The fact that the salesman does not know and never has known establishes a connection between the book’s non-repeating pages and the fleeting nature of memory; he neither knows currently nor has ever known in the past.

“I turned the page; the next page bore an eight-digit number. It also bore a small illustration, like those one sees in dictionaries: an anchor drawn in pen and ink, as though by the unskilled hand of a child.”

In this moment, the narrator realizes the extent of the pages in the book, pointing to a page with a number in the millions. The illustration is not intricate nor beautiful, but crude and childlike. Despite the large number of pages, which would imply a higher level of intelligence and development of ideas on the part of the creator, the illustrations place the book in a binary between the enlightened and the primitive.

“‘Look at it well. You will never see it again.’ There was a threat in the words, but not in the voice.”

The salesman shows the narrator that he is no longer mystified by the book, and the warning in his words is less direct than relaying an objective fact. Though the narrator will, in fact, never find that specific page again, the warning connects to the presumed attempt to find the page again in the future. This foreshadows both the narrator’s later attempts to catch the book repeating itself and his realization that the book is monstrous.

“I came across this book in a village on the plain, and I traded a few rupees and a Bible for it. The man who owned it didn’t know how to read. I suspect he saw the Book of Books as an amulet.”

Again, the salesman conflates the foreign origin of the book with its spirituality. The fact that the book was an amulet to a man who could not read is not different from the book’s serving as a sacred text in the hands of the narrator or the salesman. While these men can read, they cannot read this Book. This observation also foreshadows the caution and care with which the narrator treats and studies the book. He does not learn to read the book and ultimately makes it an amulet, following the example of its prior owner.

“I took the cover in my left hand and opened the book, my thumb and forefinger almost touching. It was impossible: several pages always lay between the cover and my hand. It was as though they grew from the very book.”

By attempting to grasp the first and last pages of the book, the narrator is proving its supernatural quality. It is not simply very long but is infinite; it has no beginning or ending. The lack of a first or last page adds to the motif of the infinite, supporting the idea that any place is essentially random when placed in the context of infinity. Without a first or last page, any given page’s number is rendered meaningless, as it is never ordered or arranged with meaning.

“If space is infinite, we are anywhere, at any point in space. If time is infinite, we are at any point in time.”

Though these musings irritate the narrator, the salesman reveals the abstract purpose of Borges’s story in these lines. The book is upsetting because it reveals an absurdity in any elements of order or meaning outside of it. The fact that the book breaks the perceived rules of space and time invalidates the worldviews of the characters. Concepts like location and time cannot have any meaning if they are truly arbitrary and random, as are the pages and structure of the book itself. The melancholy of the two men reveals how disheartening this realization is, and each of them ultimately hates and fears the book because it represents this anguish.

“Yes, I’m Presbyterian. My conscience is clear. I am certain I didn’t cheat that native when I gave him the Lord’s Word in exchange for his diabolic book.”

The salesman’s defense operates on multiple levels: He at once asserts his religious affiliation, defends his purchase of the book, and reduces the value of the book. On one hand, the book could be diabolic because it flaunts God’s order, but it is more so because it refutes the structures and meanings that Christianity advocates. Likewise, in defending his purchase of the book, the salesman calls attention to the ethics of selling the book to the narrator. Knowing that the book has brought him anguish and unrest, it is unethical for the salesman to pass on that suffering to someone else. In that same way, the salesman is not at fault for acquiring the book, as he took away its previous owner’s suffering.

“I was astonished that he did not haggle. Only later was I to realize that he had entered my house already determined to sell the book. He did not count the money, but merely put the bills into his pocket.”

Though the salesman accepts the Wycliffe and the pension for the book, the fact that he does not count the money reveals the nature of the book. This is not a precious object to be treasured, as the narrator does for a time; it is a burden that the salesman was happy to get rid of.

“I thought of putting the Book of Sand in the space left by the Wyclif, but I chose at last to hide it behind some imperfect volumes of the Thousand and One Nights.”

The narrator debates the value of the book and implies a hierarchy of value across the Wycliffe Bible, One Thousand and One Nights, and the Book of Sand. He wants to put it in the place of the volume that was his most valued book until now, as he traded a book he perceived to be of greater value. However, the book is also potentially dangerous and at risk for theft, so the narrator decides to hide it.

“I showed no one my treasure. To the joy of possession was added the fear that it would be stolen from me, and to that, the suspicion that it might not be truly infinite.”

The narrator begins to realize in these lines that the book is not necessarily a valuable item in his life overall. While the book is a treasure, it also generates fears and paranoia. Importantly, though, the fears are not only external ones related to theft. They are also internal, as the book itself deceived him. The prospect of infinity is exciting and terrifying, but the narrator now fears that his enlightenment might be false.

“I found that the small illustrations were spaced at two-thousand-page intervals. They never repeated themselves. At night, during the rare intervals spared me by insomnia, I dreamed of the book.”

The narrator discovers an order to the book, though the idea of order or meaning in the numbering of its pages was already dismissed. It is unclear whether the narrator truly finds a page for every 2,000 that he sees or if illustrations appear only on pages with numbers listed in these increments. The repetition of the term interval refers to both those between pages in the book and between the periods when the narrator studies or dreams about the book. Each interval, then, is arbitrary, as the narrator is always consumed by the book, just as the pages of the book are always shifting and changing.

“I considered fire, but I feared that the burning of an infinite book might be similarly infinite, and suffocate the planet in smoke.”

The narrator draws back from the abstract into the real as he considers how the infinite book might interact with materials and processes outside itself. The thought of the book burning forever and suffocating reveals his fears and anguish. The narrator is being suffocated by the book, and the imagery of infinite smoke and fire emphasizes how the book burned into his own mind.