My hired ‘experts’ jokingly, good-naturedly call me an archeo-apologist. It is because of my zeal for my reclamation project – that of unearthing and archiving files, notes, books – over a century’s worth of information on one of America’s oldest, most prestigious publishing houses – Fiction House Publishing.
Often the work overwhelms me. When that happens, sometimes I become careless in my separation of fact from fiction. But the experts, professional archeologists, and anthropologists all, do not pardon any of my historical misinterpretations (my ‘archeo-apologizing’).
“Unblemished”, will be the term to describe the accuracy of my work, with their knowledgeable assistance, as onward I archive, collate, and now, finally – present.
But wait. Fact and fiction for me is a blur. That trait is I truly believe, engrained in the fiber of my being by my orphan circumstances. As a youth, I would slip into my imagination to cope. So comfortable in my cocoon of make-believe, the fiction of it all became fact. In my imagination, I sought out and befriended my great-great grandfather, James Thaddeus ‘Blackjack’ Fiction, the Fiction House’s founder. He too was orphaned, but 140 years before. Ahh! Best of friends, though we never met.
Our common orphan heritage – it binds us yet today. Our oneness and solidarity so colors my resurrection work that ‘archeo-apologist’ is probably what in fact I’ll always remain, because though my name is Raji Singh, a Fiction is who I am.