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Twenty-Two Goblins
One night the famous King Triple-victory, mighty as the king of the gods, found a monk called Patience standing under a fig tree and making a magic circle. "O King, if you wish to do me a favor, go south from here some distance all alone, and you will see a sissoo tree and a dead body hanging from it. Be so kind as to bring that here." As the king was beholden to the monk, he did as he was asked. He found the body was the body of a goblin, and that is the beginning of this tale.
- GenresFantasy
Paperback
First published January 1, 1917
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63 people want to read
About the author
Arthur W. Ryder
42 books9 followersArthur William Ryder was a professor of Sanskrit at the University of California, Berkeley. He translated a number of Sanskrit works into English, including the Panchatantra and the Bhagavad Gita. He was a member of the American Oriental Society and the American Philological Association. In the words of G. R. Noyes:
Taken as a whole, Ryder's work as a translator is probably the finest ever accomplished by an American. It is also probably the finest body of translation from the Sanskrit ever accomplished by one man, if translation be regarded as a branch of literary art, not merely as a faithful rendering of the meaning of the original text.
Taken as a whole, Ryder's work as a translator is probably the finest ever accomplished by an American. It is also probably the finest body of translation from the Sanskrit ever accomplished by one man, if translation be regarded as a branch of literary art, not merely as a faithful rendering of the meaning of the original text.
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Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews
September 10, 2023
Book is good, Translation is not that great. The Essence is lost in translation. Will read another translation and review the actual book later this year.
July 22, 2017
Twenty Two Goblins is an ancient Indian folk tale similar to One Thousand and One Nights. In this story a king is asked to retrieve a dead body from a goblin's tree. In the process, the king captures the goblin and is told a series of stories. Each story end in a riddle, which the king must answer correctly. The stories are similar to other ancient folk/fairy tales. There is love at first sight, magical worlds, princesses, kings, magic, etc. Some stories are light hearted while others are darker. Each corresponds to a cultural or religious belief (OF THAT TIME). The son should give his life for his father, the servant must support his king, the woman must be faithful to her lover, etc.
There are some antiquated beliefs in this story that would not be appropriate for children (speaking specifically of a story that features self sacrifice of a 7 year old). Instead I would recommend this book for a college course on ancient Indian cultures, or ancient folk tales.
The story is available via the public domain here.
There are some antiquated beliefs in this story that would not be appropriate for children (speaking specifically of a story that features self sacrifice of a 7 year old). Instead I would recommend this book for a college course on ancient Indian cultures, or ancient folk tales.
The story is available via the public domain here.
June 30, 2025
I want to start by acknowledging that this collection presents itself as a sacred text:
That is the same promise you see in the Ramayana, Mahabharata, and Puranas. This text falls roughly into a Shaivite tradition--although other gods are mentioned, only Shiva, Kali, and Gauri actively intervene in these stories. A cursory search, however, suggests that this text's reputation in India is essentially secular--it is not used in religious rites, chanted in temples, or used as scripture. I have therefore chosen to review this the same way I would The Arabian Nights or any other folk collection.
Arthur Ryder's Twenty-two Goblins is a partial translation of the Sanskrit story cycle known as Vetālapañcaviṃśati (“Twenty-Five Vetala Stories”), which is itself part of the titanic Kathāsaritsāgara (Ocean of Streams of Story). The premise is both strange and simple---a king has been asked by a holy man to bring him a corpse that's hanging from a tree, but the corpse is possessed by a spirit. Every time the king walks back with it, the corpse tells him a brief story and then asks him to answer a moral question---if he's wrong, he dies. If he's right, the corpse flies back to the tree and it all begins again.
To start with the elephant in the room---Twenty-five vetala stories vs. twenty-two goblins. This is incomplete. And it's especially aggravating because it's already so short at about 120 pages. As far as I can determine, two of the stories were skipped for what I suspect were moral reasons (one of them having to do with adultery and murder, the other with a courtesan who tricks a man into murdering his rival), and the last story, the conclusion, is shrunk down to two pages.
The other elephant (a plethora of pachyderms) is that this translation is from 1917, and in general, translation is an art that has matured with time. This contains clunkers that would never be tolerated nowadays, caused by Arthur Ryder's desire to make his translation widely accessible even at the cost of accuracy---thus, for example, an ascetic Brahmana carries “rosaries” rather than religious paraphernalia that Western readers might not recognize. Similarly, Ryder renders Sanskrit names into English, which a modern translation would avoid (just like an Americans named “Charity” does not suddenly become Jizen if she moves to Japan).
In spite of these blemishes, Ryder's translation is clear and to the point, perhaps occasionally smoothing sentences out but otherwise letting the stories speak for themselves. It's far more readable than the competition---”Vikram and the Vampire,” translated in 1870 by Sir Richard Burton, is even less complete, while feeling simultaneously bloated. Burton wasn't translating the original stories but a Hindi retelling, which Burton rendered even more interminable by adding the flourishes he is now infamous for---Victorian translators, faced with an Indian work they thought could use improvement, were not shy about simply adding the material they thought ought to be there.
But saying that Ryder “lets the stories speak for themselves” raises a natural question, and the truth is, this collection is an extremely mixed bag. Let me tell you the plot of “The Four Scientific Suitors.” A woman asks to be married to “any good-looking young man, who understands a single science from beginning to end.” Four people visit: One can weave, one can speak to animals, one is a swordsman, one can bring the dead back to life. That's it, that's the story. They never use their abilities in the text; they exist only so that the goblin can ask the king which one the girl should marry.
Nor are the riddles very inspiring most of the time. This set-up feels like it's begging for something clever, displays of genuinely startling morality or logic. Instead, it tends towards the boringly literal. A man dives into the sea and discovers and underwater kingdom. Later, he returns there with his friend who also dives into the sea. Who deserves more credit for bravery? Well, the first man, who didn't know about the kingdom, deserves more credit than the second man who had been assured it was safe. Uncontroversial, I suppose, but it's hardly enhancing or re-contextualizing the story. Occasionally they do reflect the author's world view in interesting ways---there's one story where a king is deemed to be more virtuous than his general, on the ground that you expect generals to be virtuous, but when a king manages to show any sort of self-control, it's more praiseworthy for being surprising.
But although the riddles don't tend towards much and some of the stories struggle to justify their existence, others are fun. Prospective readers should simply understand going in that most of these are four to seven pages, just time to sketch out a story and ask a question. There's little depth to them, but if you can appreciate Western fairy tales and folklore, there's no reason you shouldn't enjoy the Eastern version of the princess and the pea (“The Three Delicate Wives of King Virtue-Banner”), or the gentle morality tale of a thief being redeemed through love and divine grace (“The Girl Who Showed Great Devotion to the Thief”), or talking birds arguing about whether men or women are worse (“The Parrot and the Thrush”); even the plot-less stories that exist to set up the riddle are frequently charming (“The Brahman Who Dies Because Poison From a Snake In The Claws of a Hawk Fell Into a Dish of Food Given Him By a Charitable Woman.” Yes, that's its name. Who is to blame for his death?)
You probably have some sense already if you're the type of person who wants to read 11th century Indian folkstories—if that's you, enough of these are worth reading, and the entire volume is so short, that you might as well spend the afternoon it will take you to read this. But this is a far cry from Kalidasa---readers hoping for depth of character, emotional resonance, or beautiful prose should look elsewhere.
When anyone tells or hears with proper respect even a part of these puzzle-stories, he shall be immediately free from sin.
That is the same promise you see in the Ramayana, Mahabharata, and Puranas. This text falls roughly into a Shaivite tradition--although other gods are mentioned, only Shiva, Kali, and Gauri actively intervene in these stories. A cursory search, however, suggests that this text's reputation in India is essentially secular--it is not used in religious rites, chanted in temples, or used as scripture. I have therefore chosen to review this the same way I would The Arabian Nights or any other folk collection.
Arthur Ryder's Twenty-two Goblins is a partial translation of the Sanskrit story cycle known as Vetālapañcaviṃśati (“Twenty-Five Vetala Stories”), which is itself part of the titanic Kathāsaritsāgara (Ocean of Streams of Story). The premise is both strange and simple---a king has been asked by a holy man to bring him a corpse that's hanging from a tree, but the corpse is possessed by a spirit. Every time the king walks back with it, the corpse tells him a brief story and then asks him to answer a moral question---if he's wrong, he dies. If he's right, the corpse flies back to the tree and it all begins again.
To start with the elephant in the room---Twenty-five vetala stories vs. twenty-two goblins. This is incomplete. And it's especially aggravating because it's already so short at about 120 pages. As far as I can determine, two of the stories were skipped for what I suspect were moral reasons (one of them having to do with adultery and murder, the other with a courtesan who tricks a man into murdering his rival), and the last story, the conclusion, is shrunk down to two pages.
The other elephant (a plethora of pachyderms) is that this translation is from 1917, and in general, translation is an art that has matured with time. This contains clunkers that would never be tolerated nowadays, caused by Arthur Ryder's desire to make his translation widely accessible even at the cost of accuracy---thus, for example, an ascetic Brahmana carries “rosaries” rather than religious paraphernalia that Western readers might not recognize. Similarly, Ryder renders Sanskrit names into English, which a modern translation would avoid (just like an Americans named “Charity” does not suddenly become Jizen if she moves to Japan).
In spite of these blemishes, Ryder's translation is clear and to the point, perhaps occasionally smoothing sentences out but otherwise letting the stories speak for themselves. It's far more readable than the competition---”Vikram and the Vampire,” translated in 1870 by Sir Richard Burton, is even less complete, while feeling simultaneously bloated. Burton wasn't translating the original stories but a Hindi retelling, which Burton rendered even more interminable by adding the flourishes he is now infamous for---Victorian translators, faced with an Indian work they thought could use improvement, were not shy about simply adding the material they thought ought to be there.
But saying that Ryder “lets the stories speak for themselves” raises a natural question, and the truth is, this collection is an extremely mixed bag. Let me tell you the plot of “The Four Scientific Suitors.” A woman asks to be married to “any good-looking young man, who understands a single science from beginning to end.” Four people visit: One can weave, one can speak to animals, one is a swordsman, one can bring the dead back to life. That's it, that's the story. They never use their abilities in the text; they exist only so that the goblin can ask the king which one the girl should marry.
Nor are the riddles very inspiring most of the time. This set-up feels like it's begging for something clever, displays of genuinely startling morality or logic. Instead, it tends towards the boringly literal. A man dives into the sea and discovers and underwater kingdom. Later, he returns there with his friend who also dives into the sea. Who deserves more credit for bravery? Well, the first man, who didn't know about the kingdom, deserves more credit than the second man who had been assured it was safe. Uncontroversial, I suppose, but it's hardly enhancing or re-contextualizing the story. Occasionally they do reflect the author's world view in interesting ways---there's one story where a king is deemed to be more virtuous than his general, on the ground that you expect generals to be virtuous, but when a king manages to show any sort of self-control, it's more praiseworthy for being surprising.
But although the riddles don't tend towards much and some of the stories struggle to justify their existence, others are fun. Prospective readers should simply understand going in that most of these are four to seven pages, just time to sketch out a story and ask a question. There's little depth to them, but if you can appreciate Western fairy tales and folklore, there's no reason you shouldn't enjoy the Eastern version of the princess and the pea (“The Three Delicate Wives of King Virtue-Banner”), or the gentle morality tale of a thief being redeemed through love and divine grace (“The Girl Who Showed Great Devotion to the Thief”), or talking birds arguing about whether men or women are worse (“The Parrot and the Thrush”); even the plot-less stories that exist to set up the riddle are frequently charming (“The Brahman Who Dies Because Poison From a Snake In The Claws of a Hawk Fell Into a Dish of Food Given Him By a Charitable Woman.” Yes, that's its name. Who is to blame for his death?)
You probably have some sense already if you're the type of person who wants to read 11th century Indian folkstories—if that's you, enough of these are worth reading, and the entire volume is so short, that you might as well spend the afternoon it will take you to read this. But this is a far cry from Kalidasa---readers hoping for depth of character, emotional resonance, or beautiful prose should look elsewhere.
August 14, 2016
A collection of ancient Hindu folktales that end in riddles. The frame for the stories involves a king who must retrieve a goblin-possessed corpse hanging from a tree. It's the goblin who poses the story-riddles to the king, who in turn provides the solution at the end of each tale. Many of the stories involve young beauties, good kings, and magical beings hopelessly falling in love with each other, though there are a few stories of bravery, gods, and monsters.
I was surprised (though I shouldn't have been considering the source) how many of the riddles' answers rely on an understanding of one's role in a caste system. I think some of the solutions provided by the king would not pass in today's Western world.
I was surprised (though I shouldn't have been considering the source) how many of the riddles' answers rely on an understanding of one's role in a caste system. I think some of the solutions provided by the king would not pass in today's Western world.
June 6, 2017
A translation of an old Indian tale -- a frame tale with twenty-two tales inside, each one ending with a riddle. (The last riddle of which is the one I remember most keenly from my first reading. It's the one the king can't answer.)
More idiomatic than the last translation I read it in.
More idiomatic than the last translation I read it in.
October 1, 2015
I liked it.. People in India sure killed themselves a lot..
November 25, 2017
A selection from my occasional "Gutenberg lotto" reading adventure, wherein I click the "random" button on Project Gutenberg to select a public domain text to read.
22 Goblins is a translation of Sanskrit stories going back to the 11th century, with the framing device of a king who attempts to catch an elusive goblin that can inhabit corpses. Each time he is caught, he tells the king a story that ends in a riddle, then asks the king the answer.
A large part of what makes these stories intriguing is that they come from a time and culture so far removed from the present-day western world that they seem fresh. They bear no resemblance to any fairy tales I've ever read. There are human sacrifices, self-immolations, and misogyny a-plenty. (The latter is beyond anything I've ever seen.)
Some of the riddles the stories pose are pretty interesting. Example: a woman's father and husband both have their bodies cut apart and reassembled so that one has her father's head and her husband's body, and the other has her husband's head and her father's body. Which configuration should be her husband now? Real-life problems, right?
Worth a look for the insight into a culture from far away and long ago, though the stories start to get a bit repetitive after awhile.
22 Goblins is a translation of Sanskrit stories going back to the 11th century, with the framing device of a king who attempts to catch an elusive goblin that can inhabit corpses. Each time he is caught, he tells the king a story that ends in a riddle, then asks the king the answer.
A large part of what makes these stories intriguing is that they come from a time and culture so far removed from the present-day western world that they seem fresh. They bear no resemblance to any fairy tales I've ever read. There are human sacrifices, self-immolations, and misogyny a-plenty. (The latter is beyond anything I've ever seen.)
Some of the riddles the stories pose are pretty interesting. Example: a woman's father and husband both have their bodies cut apart and reassembled so that one has her father's head and her husband's body, and the other has her husband's head and her father's body. Which configuration should be her husband now? Real-life problems, right?
Worth a look for the insight into a culture from far away and long ago, though the stories start to get a bit repetitive after awhile.
March 12, 2021
But where are the remaining 3 of the Vetālapañcaviṃśati?
Amazing synchronicity on the 17th goblin being, word for word, Indische Lebenslauf from the Glasperlenspiel just a month ago, and less word for word but similar enough to Borges' Circular Ruins.
In the words of the great man,
"sie liegt darin, dass man diese Form heute nicht schwer genug nimmt. Ein Aphorismus, rechtschaffen geprägt und ausgegossen, ist damit, dass er abgelesen ist, noch nicht „entziffert“; vielmehr hat nun erst dessen Auslegung zu beginnen, zu der es einer Kunst der Auslegung bedarf. Ich habe in der dritten Abhandlung dieses Buchs ein Muster von dem dargeboten, was ich in einem solchen Falle „Auslegung“ nenne: — dieser Abhandlung ist ein Aphorismus vorangestellt, sie selbst ist dessen Commentar. Freilich thut, um dergestalt das Lesen als Kunst zu üben, Eins vor Allem noth, was heutzutage gerade am Besten verlernt worden ist — und darum hat es noch Zeit bis zur „Lesbarkeit“ meiner Schriften —, zu dem man beinahe Kuh und jedenfalls nicht „moderner Mensch“ sein muss: das Wiederkäuen…"
Amazing synchronicity on the 17th goblin being, word for word, Indische Lebenslauf from the Glasperlenspiel just a month ago, and less word for word but similar enough to Borges' Circular Ruins.
In the words of the great man,
"sie liegt darin, dass man diese Form heute nicht schwer genug nimmt. Ein Aphorismus, rechtschaffen geprägt und ausgegossen, ist damit, dass er abgelesen ist, noch nicht „entziffert“; vielmehr hat nun erst dessen Auslegung zu beginnen, zu der es einer Kunst der Auslegung bedarf. Ich habe in der dritten Abhandlung dieses Buchs ein Muster von dem dargeboten, was ich in einem solchen Falle „Auslegung“ nenne: — dieser Abhandlung ist ein Aphorismus vorangestellt, sie selbst ist dessen Commentar. Freilich thut, um dergestalt das Lesen als Kunst zu üben, Eins vor Allem noth, was heutzutage gerade am Besten verlernt worden ist — und darum hat es noch Zeit bis zur „Lesbarkeit“ meiner Schriften —, zu dem man beinahe Kuh und jedenfalls nicht „moderner Mensch“ sein muss: das Wiederkäuen…"
July 24, 2017
Not as entertaining as I thought it would be, but then again I don't really understand ancient Hindu logic nor care who the girl in the upteenth riddle should marry. (I got kinda bored of those riddles) 3 stars because it was creative and fun in a few of the stories, but I felt most of the elements came to be overused.
Also overall it was a rather dark book, and I got bored of a lot of the stories half way through.
Also overall it was a rather dark book, and I got bored of a lot of the stories half way through.
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September 19, 2023Awesome collection of Brahmanist fairy tales akin to Grimm’s Fairy Tales in terms of how incredibly dark some of them are; fitting that a Vetala is the teller of such tales, and he tells them well. This is a translation of the 11th century Vetala Panchavimshati (or Vikram Vetala) I think. A short collection, somewhat hard to find, and very much worth the read.
May 20, 2019
The morals of the story’s are outdated, but it’s an entertaining set of short stories.
May 5, 2020
Very antiquated stories as well as a bit gender biased. Maybe I’m just not familiar with Indian culture that’s why I did not appreciate it.
January 8, 2025
threats of vetal made me a law abiding citizen
March 7, 2017
its about a goblin who is telling stories, which ends in riddles, to a king who must know the answers..
its quite interesting stories.. i enjoyed listening to it from librivox..
its quite interesting stories.. i enjoyed listening to it from librivox..
April 13, 2021
These tales are interesting. I have read some similar ones in other fairy tale collections. I find them to be on the same level as Aesop's Tales - morality tales and fables. They are good in many ways. And yes, they are still relevant to modern society.
September 15, 2016
Chapters 8,11,14,15,19 were interesting. I listened to it thru LibriVox in the public domain, but the voice over artist was too monotonous in his telling of the tales.
Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews