I
Inmyyounger
och
andmorevulnerableyearsmyfar
fathergavemesomeadvicesom
thatI’vebeenturningoverinmymindeversedan
since.“Wheneveryoufeellike
kritisera
criticizinganyone,”hetoldme,“justihåg
rememberthatallthepeopleinhär
thisworldhaven’thadtheadvantagesthatyou’vehad.”Hedidn’t
sa
sayanymore,butwe’vealltid
alwaysbeenunusuallycommunicativeinett
areservedway,andIförstod
understoodthathemeantagreatdealmer
morethanthat.Inconsequence,I’minclinedto
förbehålla
reservealljudgements,ahabitthathar
hasopenedupmanycuriousnaturestomeoch
andalsomademetheoffer
victimofnotafewveteranbores.Theabnormalmindisquickto
upptäcka
detectandattachitselftodenna
thisqualitywhenitappearsinen
anormalperson,andsoitkom
cameaboutthatincollegeIwasunjustlyaccusedofbeingen
apolitician,becauseIwasprivytothehemliga
secretgriefsofwild,unknownmen.Mostof
de
theconfidenceswereunsought—frequentlyIhar
havefeignedsleep,preoccupation,oren
ahostilelevitywhenIinsåg
realizedbysomeunmistakablesignatt
thatanintimaterevelationwasquiveringonde
thehorizon;fortheintimaterevelationsof
unga
youngmen,oratleastde
thetermsinwhichtheyuttrycker
expressthem,areusuallyplagiaristicoch
andmarredbyobvioussuppressions.Förbehålla
Reservingjudgementsisamatterofinfinitehopp
hope.Iamstilla
lite
littleafraidofmissingsomethingifIglömmer
forgetthat,asmyfathersnobbishlyföreslog
suggested,andIsnobbishlyrepeat,en
asenseofthefundamentaldecenciesisparcelledut
outunequallyatbirth.And,afterboasting
detta
thiswayofmytolerance,Ikommer
cometotheadmissionthatithasen
alimit.Conductmaybefoundedonthe
hårda
hardrockorthewetmarshes,men
butafteracertainpointIdon’tcarewhatit’sfoundedpå
on.WhenIcamebackfromthe
Öst
EastlastautumnIfeltthatIville
wantedtheworldtobeinuniformoch
andatasortofmoralisk
moralattentionforever;Iwanted
inte
nomoreriotousexcursionswithprivilegedglimpsesintodet
thehumanheart.OnlyGatsby,
den
themanwhogiveshisnamn
nametothisbook,wasexemptfrommyreaction—Gatsby,whorepresenterade
representedeverythingforwhichIhar
haveanunaffectedscorn.Ifpersonalityisanunbroken
serie
seriesofsuccessfulgestures,thentherewasnågot
somethinggorgeousabouthim,someheightenedkänslighet
sensitivitytothepromisesoflife,asifhewererelatedtooneofdessa
thoseintricatemachinesthatregisterearthquakestio
tenthousandmilesaway.Thisresponsivenesshad
inget
nothingtodowiththatflabbyimpressionabilitywhichisvärdigt
dignifiedunderthenameofthe“creativetemperament”—itwasanextraordinarygåva
giftforhope,aromanticreadinesssuchasIhar
haveneverfoundinanyannan
otherpersonandwhichitisnotlikelyIshalleverhitta
findagain.No—Gatsbyturnedoutallrightattheend;
itiswhatpreyedonGatsby,whatfoul
damm
dustfloatedinthewakeofhisdreamssom
thattemporarilyclosedoutmyintresse
interestintheabortivesorrowsoch
andshort-windedelationsofmen.My
familj
familyhavebeenprominent,well-to-domänniskor
peopleinthisMiddleWesternstad
cityforthreegenerations.TheCarrawaysare
något
somethingofaclan,andwehar
haveatraditionthatwe’redescendedfromden
theDukesofBuccleuch,butden
theactualfounderofmylinje
linewasmygrandfather’sbrother,whokom
camehereinfifty-one,senten
asubstitutetotheCivilWar,och
andstartedthewholesalehardwareverksamhet
businessthatmyfathercarriesonidag
today.Ineversawthisgreat-uncle,
men
butI’msupposedtolooklikehim—withsärskild
specialreferencetotheratherhard-boiledpaintingsom
thathangsinfather’soffice.IgraduatedfromNewHavenin1915,
bara
justaquarterofasekel
centuryaftermyfather,andett
alittlelaterIparticipatedinsom
thatdelayedTeutonicmigrationknownastheStora
GreatWar.Ienjoyedthecounter-raidsothoroughly
att
thatIcamebackrestless.Istället
Insteadofbeingthewarmcentrum
centreoftheworld,theMiddleWestnu
nowseemedliketheraggedkanten
edgeoftheuniverse—soIbestämde
decidedtogoEastandlära
learnthebondbusiness.EverybodyI
kände
knewwasinthebondbusiness,soIantog
supposeditcouldsupportonemoresingleman.Allmyaunts
och
andunclestalkeditoverasiftheywerevalde
choosingaprepschoolforme,och
andfinallysaid,“Why—ye-es,”withmycket
verygrave,hesitantfaces.Fatheragreedto
finansiera
financemeforayear,och
andaftervariousdelaysIkom
cameEast,permanently,Ithought,inthevåren
springoftwenty-two.Thepracticalthingwasto
hitta
findroomsinthecity,men
butitwasawarmseason,och
andIhadjustleftaland
countryofwidelawnsandfriendlytrees,sonär
whenayoungmanatdet
theofficesuggestedthatwetog
takeahousetogetherinacommutingtown,itsoundedlikeagreatidé
idea.Hefoundthehouse,
en
aweather-beatencardboardbungalowateightyen
amonth,butatthesista
lastminutethefirmorderedhimtoWashington,och
andIwentouttothecountryensam
alone.Ihadadog—atleastI
hade
hadhimforafewdaystills
untilheranaway—andangammal
oldDodgeandaFinnishkvinna
woman,whomademybedoch
andcookedbreakfastandmutteredFinnishvisdom
wisdomtoherselfovertheelektriska
electricstove.Itwaslonelyfor
en
adayorsountilonemorgon
morningsomeman,morerecentlyanlände
arrivedthanI,stoppedmeondet
theroad.“Howdoyou
kommer
gettoWestEggvillage?”he
frågade
askedhelplessly.Itoldhim.
Och
AndasIwalkedonIwasensam
lonelynolonger.Iwas
en
aguide,apathfinder,anoriginal
originalsettler.Hehadcasuallyconferredonmethe
frihet
freedomoftheneighbourhood.Andso
med
withthesunshineandthestora
greatburstsofleavesgrowingonthetrees,precis
justasthingsgrowinfastmovies,Ihade
hadthatfamiliarconvictionthatlifewasbörjade
beginningoveragainwiththesommaren
summer.Therewassomuchto
läsa
read,foronething,andsomycket
muchfinehealthtobedra
pulleddownoutoftheunga
youngbreath-givingair.Ibought
ett
adozenvolumesonbankingoch
andcreditandinvestmentsecurities,och
andtheystoodonmyhylla
shelfinredandgoldlikenewpengar
moneyfromthemint,promisingtounfoldde
theshiningsecretsthatonlyMidasoch
andMorganandMaecenasknew.Och
AndIhadthehighintentionofläsa
readingmanyotherbooksbesides.Iwas
ganska
ratherliteraryincollege—oneyearIskrev
wroteaseriesofveryhögtidliga
solemnandobviouseditorialsforden
theYaleNews—andnowIwasgoingtobringtillbaka
backallsuchthingsintomyliv
lifeandbecomeagainthatmest
mostlimitedofallspecialists,den
the“well-roundedman.”Thisisn’t
bara
justanepigram—lifeismuchmer
moresuccessfullylookedatfromasinglefönster
window,afterall.Itwasamatterof
slump
chancethatIshouldhavehyrt
rentedahouseinoneofthestrangestcommunitiesinNorthAmerica.Itwason
som
thatslenderriotousislandwhichextendsitselfdueöster
eastofNewYork—andwherethereare,bland
amongothernaturalcuriosities,twoovanliga
unusualformationsofland.Twentymilesfrom
den
thecityapairofenorma
enormouseggs,identicalincontouroch
andseparatedonlybyacourtesybay,jutut
outintothemostdomesticatedbodyofsaltwaterinden
theWesternhemisphere,thegreatvåta
wetbarnyardofLongIslandSound.Theyarenotperfectovals—like
de
theeggintheColumbusberättelse
story,theyarebothcrushedplatt
flatatthecontactend—buttheirfysiska
physicalresemblancemustbeakälla
sourceofperpetualwondertode
thegullsthatflyoverhead.To
de
thewinglessamoreinterestingfenomen
phenomenonistheirdissimilarityinvarje
everyparticularexceptshapeandstorlek
size.IlivedatWestEgg,the—well,the
mindre
lessfashionableofthetwo,thoughdetta
thisisamostsuperficialtagtouttrycka
expressthebizarreandnoten
alittlesinistercontrastbetweendem
them.Myhousewasatthevery
spets
tipoftheegg,onlyfiftyyardsfromtheSound,och
andsqueezedbetweentwohugeplacessom
thatrentedfortwelveorfifteentusen
thousandaseason.Theoneonmy
högra
rightwasacolossalaffairbynågon
anystandard—itwasafactualimitation
imitationofsomeHôteldeVilleinNormandy,med
withatowerononesida
side,spankingnewunderatunt
thinbeardofrawivy,och
andamarbleswimmingpool,och
andmorethanfortyacresofgräsmatta
lawnandgarden.ItwasGatsby’s
herrgård
mansion.Or,rather,asIdidn’t
kände
knowMr.Gatsby,itwasen
amansioninhabitedbyagentleman
gentlemanofthatname.My
eget
ownhousewasaneyesore,men
butitwasasmalleyesore,och
andithadbeenoverlooked,soIhade
hadaviewofthevattnet
water,apartialviewofmyneighbour’sgräsmatta
lawn,andtheconsolingproximityofmillionaires—allforeightydollarsamonth.Acrossthecourtesy
bay
baythewhitepalacesoffashionableEastEggglitteredlängs
alongthewater,andthehistoria
historyofthesummerreallybörjar
beginsontheeveningIkörde
droveovertheretohavemiddag
dinnerwiththeTomBuchanans.Daisy
Daisywasmysecondcousinonceremoved,och
andI’dknownTomincollege
college.AndjustafterthewarI
tillbringade
spenttwodayswiththeminChicago.Herhusband,
bland
amongvariousphysicalaccomplishments,hadbeenoneofde
themostpowerfulendsthateverspelat
playedfootballatNewHaven—anationell
nationalfigureinaway,oneofthosemenwhonår
reachsuchanacutelimitedexcellenceattwenty-onethatallt
everythingafterwardsavoursofanticlimax.His
familj
familywereenormouslywealthy—evenincollege
collegehisfreedomwithmoneywasafråga
matterforreproach—butnowhe’dlämnat
leftChicagoandcomeEastinasätt
fashionthatrathertookyourbreathaway:for
exempel
instance,he’dbroughtdownastringofpoloponiesfromLake
LakeForest.Itwashardto
inse
realizethatamaninmyegen
owngenerationwaswealthyenoughtogöra
dothat.WhytheycameEastIdon’t
vet
know.Theyhadspenta
år
yearinFrancefornoparticularanledning
reason,andthendriftedhereoch
andthereunrestfullywhereverpeoplespelade
playedpoloandwererichtillsammans
together.Thiswasapermanentmove,
sa
saidDaisyoverthetelephone,men
butIdidn’tbelieveit—Ihade
hadnosightintoDaisy’shjärta
heart,butIfeltthatTomwoulddriftonför alltid
foreverseeking,alittlewistfully,forthedramatiska
dramaticturbulenceofsomeirrecoverablefootballgame.Och
Andsoithappenedthatonen
awarmwindyeveningIkörde
droveovertoEastEggtoseetvå
twooldfriendswhomIknappt
scarcelyknewatall.Their
hus
housewasevenmoreelaborateän
thanIexpected,acheerfulred-and-whiteGeorgianKolonial
Colonialmansion,overlookingthebay.Thelawn
började
startedatthebeachandsprang
rantowardsthefrontdoorforen
aquarterofamile,hoppar
jumpingoversundialsandbrickwalksoch
andburninggardens—finallywhenitnådde
reachedthehousedriftingupthesideinbrightvinesasthoughfromthemomentumofitssprang
run.Thefrontwasbrokenby
en
alineofFrenchwindows,glowingnu
nowwithreflectedgoldandwideopentoden
thewarmwindyafternoon,andTomBuchananinridingclotheswasstod
standingwithhislegsapartonden
thefrontporch.Hehad
förändrats
changedsincehisNewHavenyears.Nu
Nowhewasasturdystraw-hairedman
manofthirty,withaganska
ratherhardmouthandasupercilioussätt
manner.Twoshiningarroganteyes
hade
hadestablisheddominanceoverhisansikte
faceandgavehimtheappearanceofalltid
alwaysleaningaggressivelyforward.Not
ens
eventheeffeminateswankofhisridingclotheskunde
couldhidetheenormouspowerofthatbody—hetycktes
seemedtofillthoseglisteningbootstills
untilhestrainedthetoplacing,och
andyoucouldseeagreatpackofmuscleshiftingnär
whenhisshouldermovedunderhistunna
thincoat.Itwasa
kropp
bodycapableofenormousleverage—agrym
cruelbody.Hisspeakingvoice,
en
agruffhuskytenor,addedtotheimpressionoffractiousnessheförmedlade
conveyed.Therewasatouchofpaternal
förakt
contemptinit,eventowardmänniskor
peopleheliked—andthereweremenatNewHavenwhohade
hadhatedhisguts.“Now,don’tthinkmy
åsikt
opiniononthesemattersisfinal,”heverkade
seemedtosay,“justbecauseI’mstarkare
strongerandmoreofaman
manthanyouare.”Wewereinthe
samma
sameseniorsociety,andwhilewewerealdrig
neverintimateIalwayshadtheimpressionthathegodkände
approvedofmeandwantedmetogilla
likehimwithsomeharsh,defiantwistfulnessofhisegen
own.Wetalkedfora
några
fewminutesonthesunnyporch.“I’vegot
ett
aniceplacehere,”hesa
said,hiseyesflashingaboutrestlessly.Vände
Turningmearoundbyonearm
arm,hemovedabroadplatt
flathandalongthefrontvista,däribland
includinginitssweepasunkenItalianträdgård
garden,ahalfacreofdjupa
deep,pungentroses,andasnub-nosedmotorboatsom
thatbumpedthetideoffshore.“It
tillhörde
belongedtoDemaine,theoilman.”He
vände
turnedmearoundagain,politelyoch
andabruptly.“We’llgoinside.”
We
gick
walkedthroughahighhallwayintoaljus
brightrosy-colouredspace,fragilelyboundintothehuset
housebyFrenchwindowsateitheränden
end.Thewindowswereajar
och
andgleamingwhiteagainstthefärska
freshgrassoutsidethatseemedtoväxa
growalittlewayintodet
thehouse.Abreezeblew
genom
throughtheroom,blewcurtainsinatoneänden
endandouttheotherlikepaleflags,twistingthemupp
uptowardthefrostedwedding-cakeofthetaket
ceiling,andthenrippledoverthewine-colouredrug,gör
makingashadowonitaswindgör
doesonthesea.The
enda
onlycompletelystationaryobjectindet
theroomwasanenormoussoffa
couchonwhichtwoyoungwomenwerebuoyedupasthoughuponananchoredballong
balloon.Theywerebothin
vitt
white,andtheirdresseswereripplingoch
andflutteringasiftheyhade
hadjustbeenblownbackinafteren
ashortflightaroundthehuset
house.Imusthavestoodfor
en
afewmomentslisteningtothewhipoch
andsnapofthecurtainsoch
andthegroanofabild
pictureonthewall.Thentherewas
ett
aboomasTomBuchananstängde
shuttherearwindowsandthefångade
caughtwinddiedoutabouttherummet
room,andthecurtainsandtherugsoch
andthetwoyoungwomenballoonedlångsamt
slowlytothefloor.The
yngre
youngerofthetwowasen
astrangertome.Shewas
utsträckt
extendedfulllengthatherendofthedivan,completelymotionless,och
andwithherchinraisedalite
little,asifshewerebalanserade
balancingsomethingonitwhichwasquitelikelytofalla
fall.Ifshesawmeoutof
det
thecornerofhereyesshegav
gavenohintofit—indeed,Iwasnästan
almostsurprisedintomurmuringanursäkt
apologyforhavingdisturbedherbykomma
comingin.Theothergirl,
Daisy
Daisy,madeanattempttorise—sheleanednågot
slightlyforwardwithaconscientiousexpression—thensheskrattade
laughed,anabsurd,charminglittleskratt
laugh,andIlaughedtoooch
andcameforwardintotherummet
room.“I’mp-paralysedwithhappiness.”
She
skrattade
laughedagain,asifshesade
saidsomethingverywitty,andhöll
heldmyhandforaögonblick
moment,lookingupintomyansikte
face,promisingthattherewasinte
nooneintheworldshesomuchville
wantedtosee.Thatwas
ett
awayshehad.She
antydde
hintedinamurmurthatden
thesurnameofthebalancinggirlwasBaker
Baker.(I’vehearditsaidthatDaisy’smurmurwas
bara
onlytomakepeopleleanmot
towardher;anirrelevantcriticism
som
thatmadeitnolesscharming.)Atanyrate,
Fröken
MissBaker’slipsfluttered,shenickade
noddedatmealmostimperceptibly,och
andthenquicklytippedherheadtillbaka
backagain—theobjectshewasbalanserade
balancinghadobviouslytotteredalite
littleandgivenhersomethingofen
afright.Againasortof
ursäkt
apologyarosetomylips.Nästan
Almostanyexhibitionofcompleteself-sufficiencydrar
drawsastunnedtributefromme.I
tittade
lookedbackatmycousin,whobörjade
begantoaskmequestionsinherlåga
low,thrillingvoice.Itwasthe
typ
kindofvoicethattheörat
earfollowsupanddown,asifvarje
eachspeechisanarrangementofnotesthatkommer
willneverbeplayedagain.Her
ansikte
facewassadandlovelymed
withbrightthingsinit,ljus
brighteyesandabrightpassionerad
passionatemouth,buttherewasanspänning
excitementinhervoicethatmenwhohade
hadcaredforherfoundsvårt
difficulttoforget:asingingcompulsion,awhispered“Listen,”a
löfte
promisethatshehaddonehomosexuella
gay,excitingthingsjustawhilesedan
sinceandthattherewerehomosexuella
gay,excitingthingshoveringindet
thenexthour.Itoldher
hur
howIhadstoppedoffinChicagoforadag
dayonmywayEast,och
andhowadozenpeoplehade
hadsenttheirlovethroughme.“Dothey
saknar
missme?”shecriedecstatically.
“Thewhole
staden
townisdesolate.Allthecars
har
havetheleftrearwheelmålat
paintedblackasamourningwreath,och
andthere’sapersistentwailallnatten
nightalongthenorthshore.”“Howgorgeous!
Let’s
åker
goback,Tom.Tomorrow!”
Thenshe
tillade
addedirrelevantly:“Yououghtto
se
seethebaby.”“I’dliketo.”
“She’sasleep.
She’s
tre
threeyearsold.Haven’tyouever
sett
seenher?”“Never.”
“Well,yououghttosee
henne
her.She’s—”.
TomBuchanan,who
hade
hadbeenhoveringrestlesslyabouttherummet
room,stoppedandrestedhishand
handonmyshoulder.“Whatyou
gör
doing,Nick?”“I’mabondman.”
“Whowith?”
I
sa
toldhim.“Neverheardofthem,”heremarkeddecisively.
Här
Thisannoyedme.“Youwill,”I
svarade
answeredshortly.“Youwillifyou
stannar
stayintheEast.”“Oh,I’ll
stannar
stayintheEast,don’tyouworry,”hesa
said,glancingatDaisyandthentillbaka
backatme,asifhewerealertfornågot
somethingmore.“I’dbeaGoddamnedfoolto
bodde
liveanywhereelse.”Atthispoint
Fröken
MissBakersaid:“Absolutely!”
with
sådan
suchsuddennessthatIstarted—itwasdet
thefirstwordshehadutteredsedan
sinceIcameintotherummet
room.Evidentlyitsurprisedheras
mycket
muchasitdidme,forsheyawnedoch
andwithaseriesofrapid,deftmovementsstod
stoodupintotheroom.“I’mstiff,”she
klagade
complained,“I’vebeenlyingonthatsofaforaslänge
longasIcanremember.”“Don’tlookatme,”
Daisy
Daisyretorted,“I’vebeentryingtofå
getyoutoNewYorkallafternoon.”“No,thanks,”
sa
saidMissBakertothefyra
fourcocktailsjustinfromde
thepantry.“I’mabsolutelyintraining.”
Her
värd
hostlookedatherincredulously.“Youare!”
He
tog
tookdownhisdrinkasifitwereadroppe
dropinthebottomofaglass.“Howyouever
får
getanythingdoneisbeyondme.”I
tittade
lookedatMissBaker,wonderingwhatitwasshe“gotdone.”I
njöt
enjoyedlookingather.Shewas
en
aslender,small-breastedgirl,withanupprätt
erectcarriage,whichsheaccentuatedbykasta
throwingherbodybackwardattheshoulderslikeen
ayoungcadet.Hergreysun-strainedeyes
tittade
lookedbackatmewithartig
politereciprocalcuriosityoutofen
awan,charming,discontentedface.Itoccurredtome
nu
nowthatIhadseenhenne
her,orapictureofhenne
her,somewherebefore.“Youlivein
West
WestEgg,”sheremarkedcontemptuously.“I
känner
knowsomebodythere.”“Idon’t
känner
knowasingle—”.“Youmust
känna
knowGatsby.”“Gatsby?”
demandedDaisy.
“WhatGatsby?”
Innan
BeforeIcouldreplythathewasmygranne
neighbourdinnerwasannounced;wedginghistensearmimperativelyundermine,TomBuchanancompelledmefromthe
rummet
roomasthoughhewereflyttade
movingacheckertoanothersquare.Slenderly,languidly,theirhandssetlightlyontheirhips,the
två
twoyoungwomenprecededusut
outontoarosy-colouredveranda
porch,opentowardthesunset,wherefyra
fourcandlesflickeredonthebordet
tableinthediminishedwind.“Whycandles?”
objected
Daisy
Daisy,frowning.Shesnappedthem
ut
outwithherfingers.“In
två
twoweeksit’llbethelängsta
longestdayintheyear.”She
tittade
lookedatusallradiantly.“Doyou
alltid
alwayswatchforthelongestdag
dayoftheyearandthenmissar
missit?Ialwayswatchforthe
längsta
longestdayintheyearoch
andthenmissit.”“Weoughtto
planera
plansomething,”yawnedMissBaker,sitter
sittingdownatthetableasifshewerekomma
gettingintobed.“Allright,”
sa
saidDaisy.“What’llweplan?”
She
vände
turnedtomehelplessly:“Whatdopeopleplan?”
Innan
BeforeIcouldanswerhereyesfastenedmed
withanawedexpressiononherlilla
littlefinger.“Look!”
shecomplained;
“I
skadade
hurtit.”Wealllooked—theknucklewas
svart
blackandblue.“Youdidit,Tom,”she
sa
saidaccusingly.“Iknowyoudidn’t
menade
meanto,butyoudidgjorde
doit.That’swhatI
får
getformarryingabruteofen
aman,agreat,big,hulkingfysisk
physicalspecimenofa—”.“I
hatar
hatethatword‘hulking,’ ”objectedTomcrossly,“eveninkidding.”“Hulking,”
insisterade
insistedDaisy.Sometimessheand
Fröken
MissBakertalkedatonce,unobtrusivelyoch
andwithabanteringinconsequencesom
thatwasneverquitechatter,som
thatwasascoolastheirvita
whitedressesandtheirimpersonaleyesintheavsaknad
absenceofalldesire.Theywere
här
here,andtheyacceptedTomoch
andme,makingonlyaartig
politepleasantefforttoentertaineller
ortobeentertained.They
visste
knewthatpresentlydinnerwouldbeöver
overandalittlelaterde
theeveningtoowouldbeöver
overandcasuallyputaway.Itwassharplydifferentfrom
det
theWest,whereaneveningwashurriedfromfas
phasetophasetowardsitsclose,inen
acontinuallydisappointedanticipationorelseinren
sheernervousdreadofthemomentitself.“Youmakeme
känna
feeluncivilized,Daisy,”Iconfessedonmyandra
secondglassofcorkybutganska
ratherimpressiveclaret.“Can’tyou
prata
talkaboutcropsorsomething?”I
menade
meantnothinginparticularbydenna
thisremark,butitwastakenupp
upinanunexpectedway.“Civilization’s
går
goingtopieces,”brokeoutTomvåldsamt
violently.“I’vegottentobe
en
aterriblepessimistaboutthings.Har
HaveyoureadTheRiseofden
theColouredEmpiresbythismannen
manGoddard?”“Why,no,”I
svarade
answered,rathersurprisedbyhistone.“Well,it’s
en
afinebook,andeverybodyoughttoläsa
readit.Theideaisifwedon’tlookout
den
thewhiteracewillbe—willbeutterlysubmerged.It’sall
vetenskapliga
scientificstuff;it’sbeenproved.”