Атлант расправил плечи
The Non-commercial
"ButhowareyougoingtoworkanEqualizationofOpportunityBillforliterature,Ralph?"askedMortLiddy."That’sanewoneonme."
"MynameisBalph,"saidEubankangrily."Andit’sanewoneonyoubecauseit’smyownidea."
"Okay,okay,I’mnotquarreling,amI?I’mjustasking."MortLiddysmiled.Hespentmostofhistimesmilingnervously.Hewasacomposerwhowroteold-fashionedscoresformotionpictures,andmodernsymphoniesforsparseaudiences.
"Itwouldworkverysimply,"saidBalphEubank."Thereshouldbealawlimitingthesaleofanybooktotenthousandcopies.Thiswouldthrowtheliterarymarketopentonewtalent,freshideasandnon-commercialwriting.Ifpeoplewereforbiddentobuyamillioncopiesofthesamepieceoftrash,theywouldbeforcedtobuybetterbooks."
"You’vegotsomethingthere,"saidMortLiddy."Butwouldn’titbekindatoughonthewriters’bankaccounts?"
"Somuchthebetter.Onlythosewhosemotiveisnotmoney-makingshouldbeallowedtowrite."
"But,Mr.Eubank,"askedtheyounggirlinthewhitedress,"whatifmorethantenthousandpeoplewanttobuyacertainbook?"
"Tenthousandreadersisenoughforanybook."
"That’snotwhatImean.Imean,whatiftheywantit?"
"Thatisirrelevant."
"Butifabookhasagoodstorywhich—"
"Plotisaprimitivevulgarityinliterature,"saidBalphEubankcontemptuously.
Dr.Pritchett,onhiswayacrosstheroomtothebar,stoppedtosay,"Quiteso.
