Or else: There was no three-car pileup, and taking the back road was the wrong choice.

Or else: You took the back road, and the tree fell on the driver just in front of you, and as you sit in your car wishing you had taken the main road, you know nothing about the three-car pileup that would have made you miss your appointment anyway. You’ll curse yourself for making the wrong choice, and yet how do you really know it was the wrong choice? Can you see the back road? Do you know what’s happening on the back road? Has anyone told you that an enormous redwood tree has fallen across the back road and crushed a passing car, killing the driver of that car and holding up traffic for three and a half hours? Has anyone looked at his watch and told you that if you had taken the back road it would have been your car that was crushed and you who were killed? Or else: No tree fell, and taking the main road was the wrong choice. You take the main road, there’s a three-car pileup, traffic is stalled for more than an hour, and as you sit there in your car, the only thing on your mind will be the back road and why you didn’t go that way instead. You won’t think about your choice, will you? And if you go by the back road and get there in time, again, no sweat, and you’ll never give it another thought for the rest of your life. Say you choose the main road and get to your appointment on time.

“There are only two choices, the main road and the back road, and each one has its good points and bad points. Aveva solo quindici anni, ma aveva già sposato un’idea, e il giovane Ferguson decise di onorarla, nella buona o nella cattiva sorte, in ricchezza o in povertà, in salute o in malattia, per tutta la vita.” “la lettura di Delitto e castigo lo cambiò, Delitto e castigo fu il fulmine che si abbatté dal cielo e lo mandò in frantumi, e quando riuscí a riprendersi Ferguson non ebbe piú dubbi sul futuro, se un libro poteva essere questo, se un romanzo poteva fare questo al tuo cuore, alla tua mente e ai tuoi sentimenti piú profondi sul mondo, allora scrivere romanzi era senz’altro la cosa migliore che potevi fare nella vita, perché Dostoevskij gli aveva insegnato che le storie inventate potevano andare ben oltre il semplice divertimento e lo svago, potevano rivoltarti come un calzino e scoperchiarti il cervello, potevano scottarti e gelarti e metterti completamente a nudo e scaraventarti tra i venti furiosi dell’universo e da quel giorno in poi, dopo aver annaspato per tutta l’infanzia, perso nei miasmi sempre piú fitti dello smarrimento, finalmente Ferguson capí dove stava andando, e negli anni successivi non tornò mai sulla sua decisione, nemmeno in quelli piú duri, quando gli sembrò quasi di cadere dai confini della terra.

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