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Extract from WICKED The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West
by Gregory Maguire
One evening - the first evening of snow - Madame Morrible held a poetry soiree. Boys from Three Queens and Ozma Towers were invited. Galinda brought out her cerise satin gown with the matching shawl and slippers and an heirloom Gillikinese fan, painted with a pattern of ferns and pfenix. She arrived early to lay claim to the upholstered chair that would best set off her own attire, and she dragged the chair over to the bookshelves so that the light from library tapers would gently fall on her.
The rest of the girls - not only the freshers, but the sophisters and seniors - entered in a whispering clot and arranged themselves on sofas and lounges in Crage Hall's nicest parlour. The boys who came were somewhat disappointing; there weren't that many, and they looked terrified, or giggled with one another. Then the professors and doctors arrived, not just the Animals from Crage Hall, but the boys' professors too, who were mostly men.
The girls began to be glad they had dressed well, for while the boys were a spotty bunch, the male professors had grave and charming smiles.
Even some of the Amas came, though they sat behind a screen at the back of the room. The sound of their knitting needles going at a rapid rate was soothing to Galinda, somehow. She knew Ama Clutch would be there.
The double doors at the end of the parlor were swept open by that little bronze industrial crab Galinda had met on her first evening at Crage Hall. It had been especially serviced for the occasion; you could still detect the cutting scent of metal polish. Madame Morrible then made an entrance, severe and striking in a coal black cape, which she let drop to the floor (the thingy picked it up and slung it over a sofa back); her gown was a fiery orange, with abalone lake shells stitched all over it.
Despite herself Galinda had to admire the effect. In tones even more unctuous than usual, Madame Morrible welcomed the visitors and led polite applause at the notion of Poetry and Its Civilizing Effects.
Then she spoke on the new verse form sweeping the social parlors and poetry dens of Shiz. 'It is known as the Quell,' said Madame Morrible, in her Headmistress's smile displaying an impressive assembly of teeth. 'The Quell is a brief poem, uplifting in nature. It pairs a sequence of 13 short lines with a concluding, unrhyming apothegm. The reward of the poem is in the revealing contrast between rhyming argument and concluding remark.
'Sometimes they may contradict each other, but always they illuminate and, like all poetry, sanctify life.' She beamed like a beacon in a fog. 'Tonight especially, a Quell might serve as an anodyne to the unpleasant disruptions we have been hearing about in our nation's capital.' The boy students looked at least alert, and all the professors nodded, though Galinda could tell none of the girl students had a clue as to what 'unpleasant disruptions' Madame Morrible was prattling on about.
A third-year girl at the hammer-strung keyboard clattered out a couple of chords, and the guests cleared their throats and looked at their shoes. Galinda saw Elphaba arrive in the back of the room, dressed in her usual casual red shift, two books under her arm and a scarf wound around her head. She sank into the last empty chair, and bit into an apple just as Madame Morrible was drawing in a dramatic breath to begin.
Sing a hymn to rectitude,
Ye forward-thinking multitude.
Advance in humble gratitude
For strictest rules of attitude.
To elevate the Common Good
In Brotherhood and Sisterhood
We celebrate authority.
Fraternity, Sorority,
United, pressing onward, we
Restrict the ills of liberty.
There is no numinosity
Like Power's generosity
In helping curb atrocity.
Bear down on the rod and foil the child.
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