So The Reading Of Many
Books Modifies And Expands Our First Crude Notions Of Equatorial
Africa.
And the result is, if we read enough of the sort I
describe above, we build the idea of
An exciting, dangerous,
extra-human continent, visited by half-real people of the texture
of the historical-fiction hero, who have strange and interesting
adventures which we could not possibly imagine happening to
ourselves.
This type of book is directly responsible for the second sort.
The author of this is deadly afraid of being thought to brag of
his adventures. He feels constantly on him the amusedly critical
eye of the old-timer. When he comes to describe the first time a
rhino dashed in his direction, he remembers that old hunters, who
have been so charged hundreds of times, may read the book.
Suddenly, in that light, the adventure becomes pitifully
unimportant. He sets down the fact that "we met a rhino that
turned a bit nasty, but after a shot in the shoulder decided to
leave us alone." Throughout he keeps before his mind's eye the
imaginary audience of those who have done. He writes for them, to
please them, to convince them that he is not "swelled head," nor
"cocky," nor "fancies himself," nor thinks he has done, been, or
seen anything wonderful. It is a good, healthy frame of mind to
be in; but it, no more than the other type, can produce books
that leave on the minds of the general public any impression of a
country in relation to a real human being.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 4 of 371
Words from 803 to 1066
of 97210
