I Don't Want You To Tell Me As Though I Were Either An
Old Hunter Or An Admiring Audience, Or As Though You Were Afraid
Somebody Might Think You Were Making Too Much Of The Matter.
I
want to know how you REALLY felt.
Were you scared or nervous? or
did you become cool? Tell me frankly just how it was, so I can
see the thing as happening to a common everyday human being.
Then, even at second-hand and at ten thousand miles distance, I
can enjoy it actually, humanly, even though vicariously,
speculating a bit over my pipe as to how I would have liked it
myself.
Obviously, to write such a book the author must at the same time
sink his ego and exhibit frankly his personality. The paradox in
this is only apparent. He must forget either to strut or to blush
with diffidence. Neither audience should be forgotten, and neither
should be exclusively addressed. Never should he lose sight of
the wholesome fact that old hunters are to read and to weigh;
never should he for a moment slip into the belief that he is
justified in addressing the expert alone. His attitude should be
that many men know more and have done more than he, but that for
one reason or another these men are not ready to transmit their
knowledge and experience.
To set down the formulation of an ideal is one thing: to fulfil
it is another. In the following pages I cannot claim a
fulfilment, but only an attempt.
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