flimsy shelf at the very back of the store. Above the shelf hung a very small
card. PHILOSOPHY, it read.
Alberto pointed down at a particular book, and Sophie gasped as she
read the title: Sophie’s World.
“Would you like me to buy it for you?”
“I don’t know if I dare.”
Shortly afterward, however, she was on her way home with the book in
one hand and a little bag of things for the garden party in the other.
The Garden Party
... a white crow…
Hilde sat on the bed, transfixed. She felt her arms and her hands tremble, as they
gripped the heavy ring binder.
It was almost eleven o’clock. She had been reading for over two hours. From
time to time she had raised her eyes from the text and laughed aloud, but she had also
turned over on her side and gasped. It was a good thing she was alone in the house.
And what she had been through these last two hours! It started with Sophie
trying to attract the major’s attention on the way home from the cabin in the woods.
She had finally climbed a tree and been rescued by Morten Goose, who had arrived
like a guardian angel from Lebanon.
Although it was a long, long time ago, Hilde had never forgotten how her father
had read The Wonderful Adventures of Nils to her. For many years after that, she and
her father had had a secret language together that was connected with the book. Now
he had dragged the old goose out again.
Then Sophie had her first experience as a lone customer in a cafe. Hilde had
been especially taken with what Alberto said about Sartre and existentialism. He had
almost managed to convert her—although he had done that many times before in the
ring binder too.
Once, about a year ago, Hilde had bought a book on astrology. Another time she
had come home with a set of tarot cards. Next time it was a book on spiritualism.
Each time, her father had lectured her about “superstition” and her “critical faculty,”
but he had waited until now for the final blow. His counterattack was deadly accurate.
Clearly, his daughter would not be allowed to grow up without a thorough warning
against that kind of thing. To be absolutely sure, he had waved to her from a TV
screen in a radio store. He could have saved himself the trouble ...
What she wondered about most of all was Sophie. Sophie—who are you?
Where do you come from? Why have you come into my life?
Finally Sophie had been given a book about herself. Was it the same book that
Hilde now had in her hands? This was only a ring binder. But even so—how could
one find a book about oneself in a book about oneself? What would happen if Sophie
began to read that book?
What was going to happen now? What could happen now? There were only a
few pages left in her ring binder.
Sophie met her mother on the bus on her way home from town. Oh, no!
What would her mother say when she saw the book in Sophie’s hand?
Sophie tried to put it in the bag with all the streamers and balloons she
had bought for the party but she didn’t quite make it.
“Hi, Sophie! We caught the same bus! How nice!”
“Hi, Mom!”