Greener Than You Think by Ward Moore (jenna bush book club .txt) 📗

oratory. I am not ashamed to admit nervousness, for this is not the first time my life has been threatened since attaining prominence. Happily, the madman's aim was as wild as his speech, and though he fired four shots, all lodged in the plaster. S, Mrs H and B, hearing the noise, rushed in and grabbed him.

July 17: A little upset by the episode of the wouldbe assassin, I decided to go up to London for the day. The library would be unusable anyway, while the walls and ceiling were being repaired.

July 18: Shaking experience. Can write no more at the moment.

Later: I was walking in Regent Square when I saw her. As beautiful and mysterious as she was last time. But now my tongue was not tied; oblivious to restraint and ridicule, I shouted, rushed after her.

I— But, really, that is all. I rushed after her, but she disappeared in the idle crowd. People looked at me curiously as I pushed and shoved, peering, crying, "Wait, wait a minute!" But she was gone.[336]

Still later: I shall go back to The Ivies tonight. If I stay longer in London I fear I shall be subject to further hallucinations.

If it was an hallucination and not the Strange Lady herself.

July 19: Grass reported in Lyons. F has new experiment scheduled for tomorrow. Despite upset condition, I wrote six pages of my history. The work of concentrating, under the circumstances, was terrific but I feel repaid for my effort. I am the captain of my soul.

S says the cottagers no longer paying rent. Told him to evict them.

96. July 20: F's test today on some underbrush in a wood. Think in future I shall go only to inspect the results; the spraying is very dull. Wrote four pages and tore them up. S says it is impossible to evict tenants. Asked him if there were no law left in England and he answered, "Not very much." I shall begin looking about for a new steward. Hear the Tharios are in London. Grass reported beyond the Vosges.

July 21: Usual aftermath of F's experiment. Not a sign of vegetation left. In the face of this, simply maddening that she doesnt get into action directly against the Grass. Got no satisfaction from her by direct questioning. Can her whole attitude be motivated by some sort of diseased and magnified femininity?

July 22: Noticed Burlet at breakfast had left off his striped waistcoat. Such a thing has never happened before. Not surprised when he requested interview. He began by saying it had been quite some time since he put before me his plan for what he calls "vertical cities." Not caring for his attitude, pointed out that it was quite outside my province as an employer to wetnurse any schemes of his; nevertheless, out of kindness I had brought it to the attention of the proper people.[337]

"But, Mr Weener, sir, people are losing their lives."

"So you said before, Burlet."

"And if nothing is done the time will come when you also will be killed by refugees or drowned by the Grass."

"That borders on impertinence, Burlet."

"I ope I ave never forgot my place. But umanity takes precedence over umility."

"That will be all, Burlet."

"Very good, sir. If convenient, I should like to give notice as of the first."

"All right, Burlet."

When he left, I was unreasonably disturbed. If I had pressed his scheme—but it was impracticable....

July 23: The Grass is in the neighborhood of Antwerp and questions are being asked in Parliament. Unless the government can offer satisfactory assurances of action by F they are expected to fall tomorrow. Assured the PM I would put the utmost pressure on F, but I know it will do no good. The woman is mad; I would have her certified and locked up in an asylum in a second if only some other scientist would show some signs of getting results. Did not write a word on my history today.

July 24: Debate in Parliament. Got nothing from F but rudeness. Wrote considerably on my book. I would like to invite Stuart Thario to The Ivies, if for no other reason than to show I bear no malice, but perhaps it would not be wise.

Riots in Sheffield.

July 25: Vote of confidence in Commons. The PM asked the indulgence of the House and played a record of Churchill's famous speech: "... Turning to the question of invasion ... We shall not fail; we shall go on to the end ... We shall defend our island whatever the cost. We shall fight on beaches, in cities and on the hills. We shall never surrender." Result, the government squeaked through; 209 for, 199 against, 176 abstaining. No one satisfied with the results.

Mrs H came to me in great distress. It seems the larder is empty of chutney, curry and worcestershire sauce and none[338] of these items can be purchased at Fortnum & Mason's or anywhere else. I assured her it was a matter of indifference to me since I did not care particularly for any of these delicacies.

Mrs H swept this aside as entirely irrelevant. "No wellconducted establishment, Mr Weener, is without chutney, curry or worcestershire." The insularity of the English is incredible. I have not tasted cocacola, hotdogs, or had a bottle of ketchup for more than a year, but I don't complain.

The Grass is in the Schelde estuary, almost within sight of the English coast. I got nothing written on my history today.

July 26: Invited to see film of a flight made about six months ago over what was once the United States. Very moving. New York still recognizable from the awkward shapes assumed there by the Grass. In the harbor a strange mound of vegetation. Several of the ladies wept.

I went home and thought about George Thario and carried my history of the Grass up until the time it crossed Hollywood Boulevard.

July 27: The Grass is now in Ostend, definitely in sight from the coast.

July 28: Grass in Dunkirk.

July 29: F astounded me this morning by coming to The Ivies, an unprecedented thing. She is (finally!!!) about to undertake tests directly against the Grass and wants airplanes and gasoline. I impressed upon her how limited our facilities are and how they cannot be frittered away. She screamed at me insanely (the woman is positively dangerous in these frenzies) and I finally calmed her with the assurance—only superficially exact—that I was dependent on the authorities for these supplies. At length I persuaded her she could just as well use motor launches since the Grass had now reached the Channel. She reluctantly agreed and grumblingly departed. My joy and relief in her belated action was dampened by her arrogant intemperance. Can a woman so unbalanced really save humanity?

July 30: Wrote.

July 31: Wrote.[339]

August 1: Attended at breakfast by footman. Extremely awkward and irritating. Inquired, what had happened to Burlet? Reminded he had left. Annoyed at this typical lack of consideration on the part of the employed classes. We give them work and they respond with a lack of gratitude which is amazing.

In spite of vexations, I brought my history up to the wiping out of Los Angeles. Leave with F and party at midnight for the tests.

August 4: It is impossible for me to set down the extent of the depression which besets me. F's assurance she has learned a great deal from the tests and didnt for a minute expect to drive the Grass back at this point doesnt counter the fact that her latest spray hadnt the slightest effect on the green mass which has now replaced the sandy beaches of the Pas de Calais. At great personal inconvenience I accompanied her on her fruitless mission and I didnt find her excuses, even when clothed in scientific verbiage, adequate compensation for the wasted time.

August 5: The government finally fell today and there is talk of a coalition of national unity, with the Queen herself assuming extraordinary powers. There was general agreement that this would be quite unconstitutional, but that won't prevent its being done anyway.

In spite of the stringent watch against refugees the population has so enlarged that rations have again been cut. Mrs H says she doesnt know where the next meal is coming from, but I feel she exaggerates. Farmers, I hear, absolutely refuse to deliver grain.

August 6: Interview with S C. Offered him all the facilities now at the disposal of F. I admitted I was not without influence and could almost promise him a knighthood or an earldom. He said, "Mr Weener, I don't need the offer of reward; I'm doing my best right now. But I'm proceeding along entirely different lines than Miss Francis. If I were to take her work over at this point I'd nullify whatever advance she's made[340] and not help my own research by as much as an inch." If C can't replace F, I don't know who can. Very despondent, but wrote just the same. Can't give in to moods.

97. August 7: BBC announced this morning the Grass is in Bordeaux and under the Defense of the Realm Act every man and woman is automatically in service and will be solely responsible for a hundred square feet of the island's surface, their stations to be assigned by the chief county constable. Tried to get Sir H C—no phone service.

Wrote on my history till noon. What a lot of bluster professional authors make over the writing of a book—they should have had the necessity every businessman knows for sticking eternally to it, and experience in a newspaper cityroom—as I had. Just before luncheon an overworked looking police constable bicycled over with designations of the areas each of us is responsible for. Sir H very thoughtfully allotted the patrolling of my library to me.

August 8: Grass in Troyes and Châlons. The assignment of everyone to a definite post has raised the general spirit. Ive always said discipline was what people needed in times of crisis—takes their minds off their troubles.

The prime minister spoke briefly over the wireless, announcing he was in constant touch with all the researchworkers, including Miss Francis. Annoyed at his going over my head this way—a quite unnecessary discourtesy.

Marked incivility and slipshodness among the staff. Spoke to Mrs H and to S; both agreed it was deplorable, saw no immediate help for it. So upset by petty annoyances I could not write on my history.

August 9: Glorious news. The BBC announced the antiGrass compound would be perfected before Christmas.

August 10: F denies validity of the wireless report. Said no one with the remotest trace of intelligence would make such a statement. "Is it impossible to have the compound by then?" I asked her.[341]

"It's not impossible to have it by tomorrow morning. Good heavens, Weener, can't you understand? I'm not a soothsayer."

Can it be some scientist I know nothing of is getting ahead of her? Very dishonorable of the government if so.

Despite uncertainties wrote three more pages.

August 11: Riots in Manchester and Birmingham. Demagogues pointing out that even if the antiGrass compound is perfected by Christmas it will be too late to save Britain. They don't count apparently on the Channel holding the plague back for long. Possible the government may fall, which won't disturb me, as I prefer the other party anyway.

August 12: After a long period of silence from the Continent, Radio Mondiale went on the air from Cherbourg asking permission for the government to come to London.

August 13: The watch on the south and east coasts has been tripled, more as a precaution against the neverceasing wave of invasion than the Grass. It has been necessary to turn machineguns on the immigrant boats—purely in selfdefense.

The rioting in the Midlands has died down, possibly on the double assurance that permission for the removal of the French government had been refused (I cannot find out, to satisfy my idle curiosity, if it is still the Republic One and Indivisible which made the request or whether that creation was succeeded by a less eccentric one), and that Christmas was a conservative estimate for the perfection of the compound—a last possible date.

Brought my history up to the Last War.

August 14: Very disheartening talk with the PM today. It seems the whole business of setting a date was an error from beginning to end. No one gave any such promise. It dare not be denied now, however, for fear of the effect upon the public. I must begin to think seriously of moving to Ireland.

August 15: Grass reported in the Faeroes. French Channel coast covered to the mouth of the Seine. What is the matter with F? Is it possible the failure of the last experiment blasted all her hopes? If so, she should have told me, so I might urge on others working along different lines.[342]

Motored to the laboratory and spoke about moving to Ireland. She agreed it might be a wise precaution. "You know, Weener, the jackass who said Christmas