The puzzle king — Reading Companion

A Self-Conscious Preface and Colonial Pride

The preface reveals Scott's authorial stance: he aims to instruct through amusement, using puzzles as a vehicle for practical life skills. He thanks Thomas Finney, a Brisbane politician, and notes the book's entirely Australian production. The opening epigraph—a verse about Alexander cutting the Gordian knot—warns against impatiently peeking at answers. This framing positions the reader as a solver who must resist shortcuts, a theme reinforced by the book's structure: answers are relegated to an appendix.

Diction and the Playful Tone of Mathematical Instruction

Scott's language oscillates between formal arithmetic and colloquial humor. The subtitle's alliterative list—'Amusing Arithmetic, Book-keeping Blunders, Commercial Comicalities, Curious “Catches,” Peculiar Problems, Perplexing Paradoxes, Quaint Questions, Queer Quibbles'—advertises a playful approach. In the problems, phrasing like 'An Appalling “Sum”' and 'Waste of Time' anecdotes inject levity. The schoolboy essay on Australia, with its misspellings and malapropisms ('Co-robbery' for corroboree, 'Federashun'), serves as comic relief while subtly reinforcing colonial stereotypes.

Structure: Problems, Anecdotes, and the Appendix

The book interleaves numbered mathematical problems with short humorous pieces. For instance, problem 129 asks about clock angles, while the following 'Grammar' joke—'the word “with” is a very bad word to end a sentence with'—satirizes pedantry. The appendix contains answers, encouraging self-checking. This structure mirrors Scott's pedagogical goal: the reader must engage actively, solving before peeking. The inclusion of 'school stories' and 'commercial comicalities' broadens the appeal beyond pure math, targeting both students and businesspeople.

Recurring Motifs: Time, Money, and Colonial Life

Several problems involve time calculations (e.g., train arrival, ages of married couples) and financial transactions (flannel distribution, cost problems). These reflect the book's practical bent. The 'Appalling Sum' anecdote—subtracting 629 repeatedly from a large number—highlights the tedium of rote arithmetic, which Scott's puzzles aim to alleviate. The colonial setting appears explicitly: the schoolboy essay describes Australia as 'vague' and 'upside down,' and Scott's address in Sydney grounds the work in a specific locale, distinguishing it from British puzzle books.

Scott's The Puzzle King rewards readers who approach it as a game rather than a textbook. The author's voice—wry, instructional, and occasionally self-deprecating—invites collaboration. To fully appreciate the work, try solving a few problems before consulting the appendix, and note how the humorous interludes offset the mathematical demands. The book's Australian identity adds a layer of historical interest, reflecting late-19th-century colonial publishing.

There’s something tender about that old 1899 puzzle book, a sugar-coated pill from a colonial classroom. It makes me think of the quieter side of mathematics, the fondness for its own history and quirks, which I found again in Memorabilia Mathematica; or, the Philomath's Quotation-Book — Story, Setting & Ideas. Both feel like letters from another time, kept for the warmth of their handwriting.