Once upon a time, William Goldman brought us The Princess Bride, that classic tale of true love, treachery, revenge, heroics, high adventure, and the victory of beauty and truth over death and selfishness. Well, actually, he brought us the “Good Parts,” edited from S. Morgenstern’s lengthier tome of history and social satire. If you’re interested in that, a full review can be found here. While many people might be familiar with The Princess Bride and the movie made from it, very few people know that S. Morgenstern wrote another book, a fable recounting the near-legendary singing gondoliers of Venice. Thankfully, William Goldman has done us all a great service in making sure that this classic tale doesn’t go unnoticed any longer.

What’s that? S. Morgenstern doesn’t exist? I beg to differ. It says right here he’s alive and well and living in Florin City with family. What, there’s no such place as Florin City? Nonsense, how can he live somewhere that doesn’t exist? Oh, just trust me on this. William Goldman, screenwriter and best-selling author of books such as Adventures in the Screen Trade and Which Lie Did I Tell? would never try to pull a fast one on us. Really.

Anyway, The Silent Gondoliers is the tragic tale of the last of the singing gondoliers of Venice, who once possessed the finest singing voices anywhere. Why, the least among them was capable of putting the great Enrico Caruso to shame. And when I say the least, I mean that this one fellow was ranked no less than 53rd among his fellows. So the fabled Caruso learned, one Friday evening, just around midnight, give or take a few minutes, on June 11, 1903, in Venice, on the Grand Canal. With details such as this, it must be a true story! Suffice it to say, though the details of Enrico Caruso’s discovery are not important, it’s essential to understand that once upon a time, the gondoliers of Venice were capable of taking no less than nine of twelve gold medals in the World Voice Olympiad.

Quite simply, there were none finer. Their voices, their singing talents, were the pride of Venice and the gondolier dynasties they all descended from. To ride with them was an experience unparalleled. Morgenstern compares the sound to glass-like purity, and takes us back to a childhood experience that prompted him to tell this story, so many years later.

I keep digressing, but no more so than the good S. Morgenstern, and for good reason. The Silent Gondoliers is not a direct book, with a linear progression from beginning to end; it meanders like a walk in the woods, or a ride in a gondola, which brings us to Luigi, the hero of the story. Luigi’s talents with a gondola were as profound as the singing voices of his fellows. He could take a gondola through SPLAT Corner, the hardest stretch of waterway in all Venice, and he could do it not just forwards, but backwards, a feat to amaze any man. However, for all his talent, he possessed a Great Secret. One which would forever change the gondoliers.

He was a man in love. No, that’s not the secret. He was assigned the same spot as the previous three generations of his family, all of whom had been gondoliers. No, that’s not the secret either. He was determined to become the greatest of gondoliers. No, that’s not the secret either. The Secret — for it deserves capitals — the Secret was …

Brace yourselves.

This one’s truly shocking.

I mean it. To admit it would be to shatter all your illusions. I mean, it’s the sort of secret that could ruin a man.

Last chance.

But enough of the story. I don’t want to give away the ending. I don’t want to spoil how Luigi saved the city from the Four Day Whirlwind. Which was followed by the Killer Storm, which threatened all of Venice. Only one man could get to the Firehouse and alert them in time. Luigi. And so he went out into the storm …

Why are the gondoliers silent? Why do they no longer sing like they used to?

What does this have to do with Luigi, the greatest of them all? I guess you’ll just have to read the story, and learn for yourself. For sometimes, the best stories are the ones you seek out on your own.

Full of the same dry humor, witty commentary, keen observation, clever asides, and atmosphere that made The Princess Bride such a classic favorite, The Silent Gondoliers is a touching fable such as only S. Morgenstern could create.

With the unique and quirky illustrations of Paul Giovanopoulos, it’s whimsical, beautiful, lyrical, and as friendly as your favorite grandparent telling bedtime stories. First published in 1983, it was released in a new trade paperback in January 2001, and should be available just about anywhere. Look for it under G for Goldman, as he’s once again cleverly managed to put his own name above Morgenstern’s, as though he wrote it. We can only hope that future printings will eliminate this cheap hack, and elevate S. Morgenstern to the place he so richly deserves at long last. Goldman can go back to his own forty-five year plus career, and those Lifetime Achievements, Screenwriter of the Year awards, Academy Awards, and the much coveted English Academy Award. All of which he probably swiped from other unknown talents along the way. For shame, Mister Goldman, for shame!

(Disclaimer: Anyone who takes the above seriously is instructed to read The Princess Bride, preferably the new 25th Anniversary edition, as well as Which Lie Did I Tell?. This is a collection of William Goldman’s essays, including one which recounts the true story of how S. Morgenstern and his works came to be. A review of the above book is forthcoming. Now go, go, read the books. You’ll like them.)