DUBLIN — In what observers in Co. Meath are calling "the most generous thing a ticket desk has ever done to a town it took something from," Trinity College Dublin's admissions machinery has rolled out a new Homecoming Discount, allowing people from Kells to view the Book of Kells at a reduced rate, provided they travel 69 km to do it.
The concession, which appears on a freshly laminated sign beside the turnstiles, offers "a meaningful reduction" to "verified residents of the Book's place of origin." The sign does not say how meaningful. Early applicants report the saving roughly covers the cost of a coffee on College Green, if the coffee is small and you don't sit down.
To qualify, Kells residents must present a utility bill no older than three months, a passport, a letter from a parish priest, and a family tree showing an unbroken line to someone who could plausibly have held a quill around 800 AD. Applicants who cannot trace their ancestry to the scriptorium may instead submit a signed declaration that they "feel quite strongly about it," which is processed separately, in a queue that is itself not discounted.
"I brought the ESB bill, the passport, and my nan," said one fictional Kells man, a composite of about four hundred people who have done this drive. "They wanted my nan's utility bill too. She's ninety-one. She pays in cash at the post office. The machine didn't have a button for that."
Once approved, discount holders receive a lanyard in Meath green and gold, entitling them to walk the same route as everyone else, look at the same page as everyone else, and exit through the same gift shop as everyone else, but with the private knowledge that the Book is, technically, theirs.
The scheme includes several optional add-ons. The Heritage Upgrade (additional fee) lets Kells visitors stand in the room for an extra ninety seconds "to reconnect." The Diaspora Bundle (additional fee, plus shipping) mails a certificate to Boston, Sydney or Birmingham confirming that the recipient's great-grandparents were from near the place where the Book was made, and that the Book remains elsewhere. A Returning Visitor Loyalty Card awards one stamp per trip; ten stamps earn a free bookmark featuring the Chi Rho page, printed in a size where the Chi Rho is roughly the width of a fingernail.
Notably absent from the list of add-ons is the one thing every applicant ticked in the "Other" box on the application form: bring it home.
"There's a free-text field," said one fictional Kells woman, also a composite. "I wrote 'return the Book to Kells' in block capitals. The machine read it, beeped, and offered me ten percent off a tea towel."
Back in Kells, where the monastery the Book came from once stood and the High Crosses still do, the discount has been received with the town's traditional mix of politeness and quiet fury. A handwritten counter-sign has already appeared in at least one shop window on the main street, reading: "Kells Homecoming Discount: 100% off. Offer valid when the Book is home."
Local accountants have run the numbers and confirmed that no percentage off a ticket to see your own property in someone else's building has ever added up to the property. One fictional retired schoolteacher proposed a simpler scheme: Trinity could keep its lanyards, its tea towels and its loyalty card, and Kells could have the Book, "and we'll call it even, which is more than fair given the interest."
At time of writing, the Homecoming Discount remained available at the turnstiles, the queue remained long, and the Book remained 69 km from home. Kells people are advised to bring exact change, a family tree, and patience measured in centuries.