When I began to write about the people of the imagined community of Port William in 1955, I had no idea that I would still be writing about them in 1999. I had no plan, and I still don’t.

Having had no plan, I have made “errors” of genealogy and geography that I haven’t been aware of until readers (more alert and responsible than I am) have pointed them out to me.

In this new edition of The Memory of Old Jack, I have made some changes to correct those errors, and some changes merely to improve my editing.

Nothing of substance has been changed. Neither in this book nor in my thoughts have I qualified my loyalty to this old man and his hard-earned, beautiful knowledge.

One: Light

Since before sunup Old Jack has been standing at the edge of the hotel porch, gazing out into the empty street of the town of Port William, and now the sun has risen and covered him from head to foot with light. But not yet with warmth, and in СКАЧАТЬ

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