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"Not a bad idea," Helen said.
"Some stay, some die. Maybe they all die," Garp said.
"What's it mean?" John Wolf asked.
"I'll know when I get there," Garp said. Helen laughed.
"And there's a third novel, after that?" John Wolf asked.
"It's called The Plot against the Giant," Garp said.
"That's a poem by Wallace Stevens," Helen said.
"Yes, of course," Garp said, and he recited the poem for them.
THE PLOT AGAINST THE GIANT
FIRST GIRL
When this yokel comes maundering,
Whetting his hacker,
I shall run before him,
Diffusing the civilest odors
Out of geraniums and unsmelled flowers.
It will check him.
SECOND GIRL
I shall run before him,
Arching cloths besprinkled with colors
As small as fish-eggs.
The threads
Will abash him.
THIRD GIRL
Oh, la...le pauvre!
I shall run before him,
With a curious puffing.
He will bend his ear then.
I shall whisper
Heavenly labials in a world of gutturals.
It will undo him.
