"William Goldman - The Princess Bride" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goldman William)

Knopf. (Which is now part of Random House which is now part of R.C.A. which is just part of
what's wrong with publishing in America today which is not part of this story. ) Anyway,
before publication, the publicity people at Knopf were talking to me, trying to figure what they
could do to justify their salaries, and they asked who did I want to send advance copies to
that might be an opinion maker, and I said I didn't know anybody like that and they said,
"Think, everybody knows somebody," and so I got all excited because the idea just came to
me and I said, "Okay, send a copy to Miss Roginski," which I figured was logical and terrific
because if anybody made my opinions, she did. (She's all through Temple of Gold , by the
way, only I called her "Miss Patulski"тАФeven then I was creative. )
"Who?" this publicity lady said.
"This old teacher of mine, you send her a copy and I'll sign it and maybe write a littleтАФ" I
was really excited until this publicity guy interrupted with, "We were thinking of someone
more on the national scene."
Very soft I said, "Miss Roginski, you just send her a copy, please, okay?"
"Yes," he said, "yes, by all means."
You remember how I didn't ask who Churchill played for because of her tone? I must
have hit that same tone too just then. Anyway, something must have happened because he
right away wrote her name down asking was it ski or sky .
"With the i," I told him, already hiking through the years, trying to get the inscription
fantastic for her. You know, clever and modest and brilliant and perfect, like that.
"First name?"
That brought me back fast. I didn't know her first name. "Miss" was all I ever called her. I
didn't know her address either. I didn't even know if she was alive or not. I hadn't been back
to Chicago in ten years; I was an only child, both folks gone, who needed Chicago?
"Send it to Highland Park Grammar School," I said, and first what I thought I'd write was
"For Miss Roginski, a rose from your late bloomer," but then I thought that was too
conceited, so I decided "For Miss Roginski, a weed from your late bloomer" would be more
humble. Too humble, I decided next, and that was it for bright ideas that day. I couldn't think
of anything. Then I thought, What if she doesn't even remember me? Hundreds of students
over the years, why should she? So finally in desperation I put, "For Miss Roginski from
William GoldmanтАФBilly you called me and you said I would be a late bloomer and this book
is for you and I hope you like it. I was in your class for third, fourth and fifth grades, thank you
very much. William Goldman."
The book came out and got bombed; I stayed in and did the same, adjusting. Not only
did it not establish me as the freshest thing since Kit Marlowe, it also didn't get read by
anybody. Not true. It got read by any number of people, all of whom I knew. I think it is safe to
say, however, no strangers savored it. It was a grinding experience and I reacted as
indicated above. So when Miss Roginski's note cameтАФlateтАФit got sent to Knopf and they
took their time relaying itтАФI was really ready for a lift.
"Dear Mr. Goldman: Thank you for the book. I have not had time yet to read it, but I am
sure it is a fine endeavor. I of course remember you. I remember all my students. Yours
sincerely, Antonia Roginski."
What a crusher. She didn't remember me at all. I sat there holding the note, rocked.
People don't remember me. Really. It's not any paranoid thing; I just have this habit of
slipping through memories. It doesn't bother me all that much, except I guess that's a lie; it
does. For some reason, I test very high on forgettability.
So when Miss Roginski sent me that note making her just like everyone else, I was glad
she'd never gotten married, I'd never liked her anyway, she'd always been a rotten teacher,
and it served her right her first name was Antonia.
"I didn't mean it," I said out loud right then. I was alone in my one-room job on