015
For almost two thousand years, the term Apocrypha has had a place— sometimes honored, on other occasions decidedly less favorable— in theological debate, especially in regard to the Biblical canon. For writers in the popular press, on the other hand, this term generally denotes something, usually stories or sources, about which (often serious) doubt can be cast.
On rare occasions, authors are explicitly scolded for their reliance on apocrypha, as in this International Herald Tribune review of a book titled American Journalists in the City of Light Between the Wars: “Often [the author] depends on apocrypha when deeper digging might be called for; ‘probably’ and ‘possibly’ occur a few too many times.”
At other times they are lauded for their refusal to be so reliant: “[the author] is judicious and well informed, ably sorting out fact from apocrypha (much of it stemming from [18th-century librettist Lorenzo] Da Ponte’s highly unreliable memoirs)” (from The New York Times).
The term can also be used with reference to a nonbiblical canon, especially Shakespeare’s: “The volume of Shakespeare’s complete works on your shelf probably doesn’t include ‘Edward III,’ long classified among the Bard’s ‘apocrypha’— things he may or may not have written” (so writes The Washington Post).
More often, the writer effortlessly inserts this word into whatever he or she happens to be mulling over. In this connection, restaurants occupy a favored position. Thus, a reviewer for London’s Guardian offers this evocative series of images: “For those of us who are enticed by neither the dungeon-dwelling dominatrix nor the seductively spinning roulette wheel, there is dining out in London’s Chinatown. The anecdotes about these grubby, malevolent food factories are plentiful, and separating the sheep of truth from the goats of apocrypha is impossible.” If the mere thought of this threatens to drive you to drink, you’d probably relish the chance to pick up a copy of the 1941 book Crosby Gaige’s Cocktail Guide and Ladies’ Companion. Among its features we are told (courtesy of a Washington Post article with the perplexing [to me] title, “Whatever Happened to the Mashie Pickup?”) that it contains “at least three legends as to the genesis of the cocktail.” Having considered all three, one expert decided to “discard them into the dim limbo of an alcoholic apocrypha.”
It is difficult to know which, if any, of the “apocryphal” narratives is most reminiscent of the Apocryphal books of the Old Testament. For me, this “honor” belongs to one Dick Tuck, who frequently “bedeviled” (so The Australian) Richard Nixon. “In terms of his Nixon pranks,” we are told (in the same source), “it is difficult to sort fact from apocrypha. But his most famous stunt came during one of Nixon’s whistle-stop train tours. While Nixon was still addressing the crowd from the back of his train, Tuck appeared on the platform dressed as a railroad conductor and waved the train out of the station.” This is certainly nothing that Ben Sirah would have condoned, but— I think— Judith and Solomon (in all his Wisdom) would have understood, and concurred!
For almost two thousand years, the term Apocrypha has had a place— sometimes honored, on other occasions decidedly less favorable— in theological debate, especially in regard to the Biblical canon.c For writers in the popular press, on the other hand, this term generally denotes something, usually stories or sources, about which (often serious) doubt can be cast.
