as objectionable. These âfamily-friendlyâ editions have become so prevalent that they now represent the overwhelming image of the book in western eyes, although the true essence of the
Nights
lies in its full presentation of human activity, including the vulgar, violent and erotic. Uncensored versions of
The Thousand and One Nights
describe a healthy dose of all manner of sexual practices, brutality and simple earthiness. Adultery, rape fantasy, bestiality and homosexuality of both genders contend with humour involving bodily functions, vivid descriptions of torture and murder and bawdy tales of wish-fulfillment gone awry (such as the story of the man who wishes at his wifeâs behest for a larger penis, finds it grown to the size of a column, and then must use his remaining wishes to return things to the status quo).
This ribaldry extends to the workâs frame tale, where the reason for the lethal vengeance wrought against Shahryar and Shazamanâs adulterous wives is usually changed to attempted treason rather than infidelity, altering the source of Shahryarâs rage and casting in a different light Scheherazadeâs altruism in saving the virgins of her kingdom. Yet, even here, a rough analogy can be made between the
Nights
â frame story and the conventions of western fairy tales. Whatever the reason advanced for the sultanâs descent into gynocide, his and Scheherazadeâs imaginative odyssey ends in true fairy-tale fashion, when an unbalanced world is set right again by the heroic efforts of a figure who risks all for others. And our clever heroine lives happily for the rest of her days with her reformed husband, the king.
Stripped of its juvenile connotations, the true
Thousand and One Nights
belongs to the select group of world storybooks furnishing portals onto other times and cultures. The English
Canterbury Tales
, the Italian
Decameron
, the Indian
Katha Sarit Sagara
(âThe Ocean of Storyâ), the Chinese
Shuihuzhuan
(âWater Margin Classicâ) and the Japanese
Monogatari
(âTales of Times Pastâ)âthese and similar compendiums have entertained and instructed countless numbers throughout history. Of all of these, however, only the
Arabian Nights
can be said to have attained a truly worldwide significance, even as the work itself continues to prove bafflingly elusive.
The seed of this elusiveness lies in the
Nights
â unique composition. Like the Bible and some of the other collections mentioned above,
The Thousand and One Nights
has no single author or compiler, having developed over centuries from multiple sources, continually supplemented and modified by numerous, usually nameless contributors until something approaching an acceptedversion was reached. Unlike these other works, however, and despite the numerical precision of its title, there is no set number of stories within the
Nights
â canon. There is no canon at all, in factâno fixed contents that can be edited or altered, but never changed out of respect for the core structure. Certain tales do tend to appear in most versions, but there is no hard and fast rule regarding their inclusion. Editions, be they long or concise, are available in styles ranging from the archaically verbose to the Hemingwayesque elementary, while interested readers can find texts in a variety of G, PG and X-rated versions.
As a literary work, this makes the
Arabian Nights
peculiarly distinctive. With no defining limits, it is something of a ghost-book, a spectral work that, like all spectres, possesses a discernible form while lacking absolute corporeal dimensions. It can be read, but readers can never truly grasp its shifting, intangible essence. In other words, there is not, nor has there ever been, nor can there ever be, a complete, definitive version of
The Thousand and One Nights
âfor the simple reason that there isnât one.
Parallels can again be made with the Bible, which like
Angel Payne, Victoria Blue