My grandma was quite the reader and she read everything. In her bookshelves I found the treasures of Egypt, the fairytale of Soria Moria Castle, palm-reading, seeing Europe on $5 a day, the history of the US, dictionaries, atlases, art books, murder mysteries, and even Robert Anton Wilsons’ Illuminatus! trilogy.
I happened to surf by the L.A. Times and caught sight of Wilson’s obituary. I remember when I read his trilogy that it was a fun and unusual read, though I would have enjoyed it more if I knew more about the US political personalities of the time that he kept referencing (the male sex organ was constantly called a Rehnquist, a mockery that escaped me back then). But it was one of those stories that left you feeling it could have really happened – a nice tickle of paranoia.
One thing did stick: The number 23. Wilson’s exact words escape me, but it was along the lines of the number 23 being the Illuminati’s secret number so seeing it was significant. And you know how it goes: After that I saw 23 everywhere.
Thanks for a good read, Robert!