The Man in the High Castle: Chapters 13–15

Yes, there it was, a bright stack of copies in fact, with a display sign saying how popular and important it was, and of course that it was verboten in German-run regions.

Dialing, Joe said, “We have a folder on Abendsen and it seems he is attracted to a certain type of dark, libidinous girl. A specific Middle-Eastern or Mediterranean type.”

He had become heavy, slow, like some inert mass.

She scanned the text ravenously, catching up the successive stages of meaning in her mind, gathering it and comprehending; Jesus, it depicted the situation exactly—a miracle once more.

Again the oracle says, even more emphatically: Get up to Cheyenne and warn Abendsen, however dangerous it is to me.

“Hawthorne works erratically,” Mrs. Abendsen was saying in her merry, brisk voice.

Ride cable car, Mr. Tagomi thought suddenly. Happiness in clearest, almost tear-jerking voyage, object that should have vanished in 1900 but is oddly yet extant.

Now the effect languished; he felt the void even more acutely, due to vitiation here of all places.

Now the effect languished; he felt the void even more acutely, due to vitiation here of all places.

All collecting damaged, not merely attitude toward this one item? Mainstay of my life...area, alas, where I dwelt with such relish.

I possibly could manage my anxious proclivities by a ruse; trade the gun in on more historicity sanctioned item.

Mr. Childan hesitated, then said, “I—wonder if that did emanate from my store. I do not carry that item.”

“Your certitude is in questionable taste,” Mr. Tagomi said. “It seems to press untowardly.”

“Listen,” he said sotto voce to the squiggle.

If I shake it violently, like old recalcitrant watch.

Titillating heavy irony by Prophet Elijah.

Cough up arcane secret.

The high realm, aspect of yang: empyrean, ethereal. As befits work of art. Yes, that is artist’s job: takes mineral rock from dark silent earth transforms it into shining light-reflecting form from sky.

That subhuman supposing I worked a child’s puerile toy.

Incredible unredemptive passions clashing in my breast. He made his way through the park. Keep moving, he told himself. Catharsis in motion.

Must obtain respite.

One seeks to contravene one’s perceptions—why? So that one can wander utterly lost, without signposts or guide?

This hypnagogic condition. Attention-faculty diminished so that twilight state obtains; world seen merely in symbolic, archetypal aspect, totally confused with unconscious material.

Emulation of more noxious aspects of adolescence, rather than the clear-headed pristine innocence of authentic childhood.

Now one appreciates Saint Paul’s incisive word choice...seen through glass darkly not a metaphor, but astute reference to optical distortion.

Now one appreciates Saint Paul’s incisive word choice...seen through glass darkly not a metaphor, but astute reference to optical distortion.

“Your courage is topic for panegyric down below at the Times,” he began.

“General Tedeki? That is, quondam Mr. Yatabe?”

“I don’t know. During your absence he appeared briefly, even furtively, but did not talk.”

Purpose in overall scheme of illusion, could we but fathom. Law of economy: nothing is waste. Even the unreal. What a sublimity in the process.

Mr. Tagomi said, “Before you begin litany, let me speak.”

“However,” Herr Reiss continued, “the contention that the hoodlums are connected with the Reich hasn’t been established. As far as I’m concerned the whole matter is insane. I’m sure you acted absolutely properly, Mr. Tagori.”

The consul seemed nonplussed.

“I am suffering,” he told Herr Reiss, who had put out his cigarette now. "Of malady growing these long years but which entered virulent form the day I heard, helplessly, your leaders’ escapades recited..."

“I am suffering,” he told Herr Reiss, who had put out his cigarette now. "Of malady growing these long years but which entered virulent form the day I heard, helplessly, your leaders’ escapades recited..."

Request by Reich through representative in PSA, Consul Freiherr Hugo Reiss, for remand of felon now in custody of San Francisco Police Department.

A purpose, which I must acquiesce to.

The man to his right answered, "There’s naturally plenty of hysterical mob support for the Little Doctor. It was the mob that swept him into office. However, it’s unlikely that when more sober elements prevail they’ll want to support a cripple and demagogue who depends on inflaming the mass with his lies and spellbinding.”

You’re so fatalistic, Juliana thought. Resigned to your own destruction.

“This girl is a daemon. A little chthonic spirit that—”