Jostein Gaarder - Sophie's World - A Novel About the History of Philosophy

She shook her head, and so did Sophie’s mother.

“What a shame,” she said, “and after we had spared no expense.”

The younger guests continued to look at Alberto. “We want to hear more,” said a curly-haired boy with glasses.

“Thank you, but there is not much more to say. When you have realized that you are a dream image in another person’s sleepy consciousness, then, in my opinion, it is wisest to be silent. But I can finish by recommending that you take a short course in the history of philosophy. It is important to be critical of the older generation’s values. If I have tried to teach Sophie anything, it is precisely that, to think critically. Hegel called it thinking negatively.”

The financial adviser was still standing, drumming his fingers on the table.

“This agitator is attempting to break down all the sound values which the school and the church and we ourselves are trying to instill in the younger generation. It is they who have the future before them and who one day will inherit everything we have built up. If this man is not immediately removed from this gathering I intend to call our lawyer. He will know how to deal with this situation.”

“It makes little difference whether you deal with this situation or not, since you are nothing but a shadow. Anyway, Sophie and I are about to leave the party, since for us the philosophy course has not been purely theoretical. It has also had its practical side. When the time is ripe we will perform our disappearing act. That is how we are going to sneak our way out of the major’s consciousness.”

Helene Amundsen took hold of her daughter’s arm.

“You are not leaving me, are you, Sophie?”

Sophie put her arms around her mother. She looked up at Alberto.

“Mom is so sad . . .”

“No, that’s just ridiculous. Don’t forget what you have learned. It’s this sort of nonsense we must liberate ourselves from. Your mother is a sweet and kind lady, just as the Little Red Ridinghood who came to my door that day had a basket filled with food for her grandmother. Your mother is no more sad than the plane that just flew over needed fuel for its congratulation maneuvers.”

“I think I see what you mean,” said Sophie, and turned back to her mother. “That’s why I have to do what he says, Mom. One day I had to leave you.”

“I’m going to miss you,” said her mother, “but if there is a heaven over this one, you’ll just have to fly. I promise to take good care of Govinda. Does it eat one or two lettuce leaves a day?”

Alberto put his hand on her shoulder.

“Neither you nor anyone else here will miss us for the simple reason that you do not exist. You are no more than shadows.”

“That is the worst insult I’ve ever heard,” Mrs. Ingebrigtsen burst out.

Her husband nodded.

“If nothing else, we can always get him nailed for defamation of character. I’m sure he’s a Communist. He wants to strip us of everything we hold dear. The man’s a scoundrel.”

With that, both Alberto and the financial adviser sat down. The letter’s face was crimson with rage. Now Joanna and Jeremy also came and sat at the table. Their clothes were grubby and crumpled. Joanna’s golden hair was caked with mud and earth.

“Mom, I’m going to have a baby,” she announced.

“All right, but you’ll have to wait till you get home.”

She had immediate support from her husband. “She’ll simply have to contain herself,” he said. “And if there is to be a christening tonight, she’ll have to arrange it herself.”

Alberto looked down at Sophie with a somber expression.

“It’s time.”

“Can’t you at least bring us a little more coffee before you go?” asked her mother.

“Of course, Mom, I’ll do it right away.”

Sophie took the thermos from the table. She had to make more coffee. While she stood waiting for it to brew, she fed the birds and the goldfish. She also went into the bathroom and put a lettuce leaf out for Govinda. She couldn’t see the cat anywhere, but she opened a large can of cat food, emptied it into a bowl and set it out on the step. She felt her tears welling up.

When she returned with the coffee, the garden party looked more like a children’s party than a young woman’s philosophical celebration. Several soda bottles had been knocked over on the table, there was chocolate cake smeared all over the tablecloth and the dish of raisin buns lay upside down on the lawn. Just as Sophie arrived, one of the boys put a firecracker to the layer cake, which exploded all over the table and the guests. The worst casualty was Mrs. Ingebrigtsen’s red pants suit. The curious thing was that both she and everybody else took it with the utmost calm. Joanna picked up a huge piece of chocolate cake, smeared it all over Jeremy’s face, and proceeded to lick it off again.

Her mother and Alberto were sitting in the glider a little way away from the others. They waved to Sophie.

“So you finally had your confidential talk,” said Sophie.

“And you were perfectly right,” said her mother, quite elated now. “Alberto is a very altruistic person. I entrust you to his strong arms.”

Sophie sat down between them.

Two of the boys had managed to climb onto the roof. One of the girls went around pricking holes in all the balloons with a hairpin. Then an uninvited guest arrived on a motorcycle with a crate of beer and bottles of aquavit strapped to the carrier. A few helpful souls welcomed him in.

At that, the financial adviser rose from the table. He clapped his hands and said:

“Do you want to play a game?”

He grabbed a bottle of beer, drank it down, and set the empty bottle in the middle of the lawn. Then he went to the table and fetched the last five rings of the birthday cake. He showed the other guests how to throw the rings so they landed over the neck of the bottle.

“The death throes,” said Alberto. “We’d better get away before the major ends it all and Hilde closes the ring binder.”

“You’ll have to clear up alone, Mom.”

“It doesn’t matter, child. This was no life for you. If Alberto can give you a better one, nobody will be happier than I. Didn’t you tell me he had a white horse?”

Sophie looked out across the garden. It was unrecognizable. Bottles, chicken bones, buns, and balloons were trampled into the grass.

“This was once my little Garden of Eden,” she said.

“And now you’re being driven out of it,” said Alberto.

One of the boys was sitting in the white Mercedes. He revved the engine and the car smashed through the garden gate, up the gravel path, and down into the garden.

Sophie felt a hard grip on her arm as she was dragged into the den. Then she heard Alberto’s voice:

“Now!”

At the same moment the white Mercedes crashed into an apple tree. Unripe fruit showered down onto the hood.

“That’s going too far!” shouted the financial adviser. “I demand substantial compensation!”

His wife gave him her full support.

“It’s that damned scoundrel’s fault! Where is he?”

“They have vanished into thin air,” said Helene Amundsen, not without a touch of pride.

She drew herself up to her full height, walked toward the long table and began to clear up after the philosophical garden party.

“More coffee, anyone?”

Counterpoint

…two or more melodies sounding together…

Hilde sat up in bed. That was the end of the story of Sophie and Alberto. But what had actually happened?

Why had her father written that last chapter? Was it just to demonstrate his power over Sophie’s world?

Deep in thought, she took a shower and got dressed. She ate a quick breakfast and then wandered down the garden and sat in the glider.