Part 4 (1/2)

To Samuel Freifeld [Postmarked Madrid, date illegible; postcard of El Bufon Don Sebastian de Morra El Bufon Don Sebastian de Morra by Velazquez, Museo del Prado] by Velazquez, Museo del Prado]

Dear Sam- Thomas a Becket, your friend and mine, would be without note here where the people are the martyrs, every man his own, and the blood of saints and poets would be gratuitously shed-if offered at all. Besides which, the poets own Fiats and eat ten courses at dinner.

To Edmund Wilson October 3, 1947 Minneapolis Dear Mr. Wilson: Two years ago you sponsored my application for a Guggenheim. I wonder if you would do so a second time. I have a new book coming in November, The Victim, The Victim, and I rather think I'll be luckier this year. I know this sort of thing is a great bother to you, but the powers will have it so. and I rather think I'll be luckier this year. I know this sort of thing is a great bother to you, but the powers will have it so.

Sincerely yours,

To Robert Penn Warren October 5, 1947 Minneapolis Dear Red- I'm sorry we missed seeing you and Cinina (Anita came to New York to meet me). Lambert Davis said he was expecting you daily. I would have liked nothing better than to hang around another week, but as it was I came back to Mpls. three days after the start of the quarter, arrived with a congestion of Spanish and Midwestern scenes in my head and my blood overcharged by a week of gluttony. Americans can can remain fat in Spain; I, for some reason, lost about twenty pounds there and took steps to recover some of them in New York, but went too fast. No doubt there was an ideological reason for eating so much-we may not be strong in Phoenician ruins but we remain fat in Spain; I, for some reason, lost about twenty pounds there and took steps to recover some of them in New York, but went too fast. No doubt there was an ideological reason for eating so much-we may not be strong in Phoenician ruins but we do do have steamed clams. At all events, I'm living on milk and eggs, princ.i.p.ally. have steamed clams. At all events, I'm living on milk and eggs, princ.i.p.ally.

Meanwhile I've unpacked my papers and am gradually coaxing myself back to work. I have a number of stories to do; after that, a novel. I'm applying for a Guggenheim, and I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd permit me to give you as a reference.

[ . . . ] I expect you'll put off sailing until All the King's Men All the King's Men opens. You must be having a wonderful time with [Erwin] Piscator and his a.s.sistant. opens. You must be having a wonderful time with [Erwin] Piscator and his a.s.sistant.

Anita asks to be remembered to you and Cinina.

All the best,

That spring, German emigre director Erwin Piscator was rehearsing Warren's stage version of All the King's Men All the King's Men at the Dramatic Workshop of The New School for Social Research in New York. By ”a.s.sistant,” Bellow presumably refers to Piscator's wife and collaborator, the dancer Maria Ley. at the Dramatic Workshop of The New School for Social Research in New York. By ”a.s.sistant,” Bellow presumably refers to Piscator's wife and collaborator, the dancer Maria Ley.

To Henry Volkening [n.d.] [Minneapolis]

Dear Henry: This is a copy of my reply to the enclosed and little enough to relieve my swollen feelings. I definitely do not want Henle to publish my next novel. You may say what you please about hard times in the publis.h.i.+ng business. They're not so hard but that a book like Eagle at My Eyes Eagle at My Eyes [by Norman Katkov] can't go through three printings in its first month with no more (to say the least) to recommend it than my book. Henle gave me an advance of seven hundred fifty. I still owe him money. And doesn't he seem pleased in his letter. Small wonder! [by Norman Katkov] can't go through three printings in its first month with no more (to say the least) to recommend it than my book. Henle gave me an advance of seven hundred fifty. I still owe him money. And doesn't he seem pleased in his letter. Small wonder!

Yours,

Glad you like ”Dora.” I don't think the New Yorker New Yorker will will.

To Robert Penn Warren [Postmarked Minneapolis, Minn., 17 November 1947]

Dear Red: Thank you very much for being so agreeable about that Guggenheim business. I am terribly superst.i.tious about formal letters. It's harder for me to write the insurance company than to do a story; why, an a.n.a.lyst may someday be able to tell me. Anyhow, I appreciate it enormously.

I do like the [Leonard] Ungers very much. So far we've met in company only-the social whirl this fall has been dazzling-but I think Leonard and I have sized each other up as people from the same layer of the upper air (or lower depths; whichever you like). And of course Sam Monk is wonderful as you probably well know. And the Hivnors: Bob got married last summer. We're very lucky, in short. As far as the place itself is concerned, well, I understand what Augustine meant when he said ”the devil hath established his cities in the north.” I've lived in Montreal and in Chicago. [ . . . ]

My friend Isaac Rosenfeld, by the way, doesn't call gossip gossip anymore; he calls it social history. I think that's very good, don't you?

I wish I had a good excuse for going to New York during Christmas. I'd love to see All the King's Men All the King's Men, but I have no such excuse and I'll have to read about it in my two-day-old Times Times. [ . . . ]

Best to Cinina, Yours,

To Melvin Tumin [n.d.] [Minneapolis]

Dear Mel- [ . . . ] Anita's family is utterly wretched. Her mother, who last year lost her eldest son, is full of hurt and, at seventy-three, only her black eyes have animation, the rest of her is rigid. The sister-in-law (married to Anita's brother Max) had her wave of talent about twenty-five years ago, at seventeen or so, and was sent to Italy and Germany to ”complete her musical studies,” came home and flopped and now teaches piano to kids who come with hockey-sticks and baseball mitts. She is very cultural haut monde haut monde with me and because I would rather play with Herschel's [Gregory's] trains than enter her cultural with me and because I would rather play with Herschel's [Gregory's] trains than enter her cultural haut monde, haut monde, she is vengeful and digs at me, saying to Catherine, Anita's eldest sister, ”Please buy me she is vengeful and digs at me, saying to Catherine, Anita's eldest sister, ”Please buy me The Axe of Wandsbek The Axe of Wandsbek, a good good novel, at your librarian's discount. I want to send it to my brother Raoul.” This poor Raoul, formerly a violinist who played in a good chamber group, is now a lawyer in the alien-property-custodian's office in Was.h.i.+ngton. And then Catherine, at fifty years, has colitis and bad temper and washes herself with fifty lotions a day. So much for Anita's family. If I were to tell you of mine-Lordy! My father spoke for an hour at a dinner given for my brother, when he turned forty, on the significance of the name Moses. novel, at your librarian's discount. I want to send it to my brother Raoul.” This poor Raoul, formerly a violinist who played in a good chamber group, is now a lawyer in the alien-property-custodian's office in Was.h.i.+ngton. And then Catherine, at fifty years, has colitis and bad temper and washes herself with fifty lotions a day. So much for Anita's family. If I were to tell you of mine-Lordy! My father spoke for an hour at a dinner given for my brother, when he turned forty, on the significance of the name Moses. Shtel sikh for! Shtel sikh for! [ [16]

On Sat.u.r.day Herschel became ill and I had to return to Minneapolis alone. He's still sick-in protest, I'm sure, if we're made alike, at the horrors of Chicago, Yemach ha shem. Yemach ha shem. [ [17]

Freifeld is in a really bad way, trapped, Melvin. His father died while he was in Germany and when he returned he had to keep the business in order to pay off debts and support his mother, who has turned into an incubus in revenge for thirty years of servitude to the paralyzed old man. Roch.e.l.le holds one arm, Mama the other and fortune pummels all three. Roch.e.l.le is still punis.h.i.+ng Sam for his German infidelities, which he was foolish enough to confess. Because she was virtuous she won't forgive him.

You ought to write. Sam feels bypa.s.sed and abandoned. He's in danger of losing his great gift of life in drought. I hate to see it happen to Sam who was so full and overfull.

Well, enough woe. There are still beauty, f.u.c.king, little children and friends.h.i.+ps in this world.

Best love,

To Henry Volkening [n.d.] [Minneapolis]

Dear Mr. Volkening: Here are some extracts from the letter I was about to send [to Henle]: ”I have had the disappointment in the last two weeks of receiving letters from friends and acquaintances in various parts of the country who had seen reviews of The Victim The Victim and tried to buy it only to be told by local booksellers that they had never heard of it. Knowing nothing of the mysteries of book distribution, I had always a.s.sumed, innocently, that the leading stores in every city automatically received a few copies. It rather shocked me to learn that the University of Chicago bookstore and Woolworth's didn't even know I had published a new book. As a Chicagoan and a Hyde Parker, I feel hurt by this. Until Red Warren's review was printed, only a handful of people knew and tried to buy it only to be told by local booksellers that they had never heard of it. Knowing nothing of the mysteries of book distribution, I had always a.s.sumed, innocently, that the leading stores in every city automatically received a few copies. It rather shocked me to learn that the University of Chicago bookstore and Woolworth's didn't even know I had published a new book. As a Chicagoan and a Hyde Parker, I feel hurt by this. Until Red Warren's review was printed, only a handful of people knew The Victim The Victim had appeared, and those who missed the had appeared, and those who missed the Daily News Daily News of Dec. 3rd have had no further opportunity to learn of it. Since I have been tolerably well reviewed, I can't understand why that should be. of Dec. 3rd have had no further opportunity to learn of it. Since I have been tolerably well reviewed, I can't understand why that should be.

”I know you will accuse me again of putting off the philosopher's robe and of being too impatient, and that you will repeat that before I have published five or six books I can't expect to live by writing. But as I write slowly I will be forty or so before my fifth book is ready and I don't think it is unreasonable of me to expect that the most should be made of what I do produce. When I see my chances for a year or two of uninterrupted work going down the drain I can't help protesting the injustice of it. This year I have been ill and teaching leaves me no energy for writing. I had hoped that I would be able to ask for a year's leave but I shall have nothing to live on if I do, and I see next year and the next and the one after that fribbled away at the university. My grievance is a legitimate one, I think. I don't want to be a commercial writer or to be taken up with money. I have never discussed money matters with you in four years, not even when I signed contracts, except for the letter I wrote you last spring about the new book. You were annoyed with me; you said it was impossible to speak of plans five months in advance of publication. But now the book is out, it hasn't been badly received and already it seems to be going the way of Dangling Man . . .” Dangling Man . . .”

I don't think it immoderate to ask why the book hasn't been advertised in Chicago, at least. Henle has taken only three ads. One in PR PR before publication, one in the Sunday before publication, one in the Sunday Times Times and one in the and one in the Sat.u.r.day Review Sat.u.r.day Review. I don't ask him to make me a millionaire, Lord no! But he seems to be satisfied with very little as a small publisher, and I have to be content with even less. Dangling Man Dangling Man sold less than two thousand copies the first year and about a hundred a year since then. The advance sale of sold less than two thousand copies the first year and about a hundred a year since then. The advance sale of The Victim The Victim was twenty-two hundred; I shall be greatly surprised if it totals five thousand copies in all. If it were to bring me enough to live on for a year I wouldn't think of trying to sell it to the movies for sure butchery. It will be no pleasure to me, I a.s.sure you, if the book is sold. I simply need the money to put Minneapolis behind me. was twenty-two hundred; I shall be greatly surprised if it totals five thousand copies in all. If it were to bring me enough to live on for a year I wouldn't think of trying to sell it to the movies for sure butchery. It will be no pleasure to me, I a.s.sure you, if the book is sold. I simply need the money to put Minneapolis behind me.

What provoked me to write in this fas.h.i.+on was a note I received in which Henle said he expected the Progressive Book Club to have The Victim The Victim as its March choice. At seventy-five cents. It seems to me that this is tantamount to remaindering the book and getting shut of it. The Progressive Club has as members people who might normally be expected to buy a book like mine. If it does dispose of something like two thousand copies, I will receive something under two hundred bucks and half-saturate the market, or whatever they call it. as its March choice. At seventy-five cents. It seems to me that this is tantamount to remaindering the book and getting shut of it. The Progressive Club has as members people who might normally be expected to buy a book like mine. If it does dispose of something like two thousand copies, I will receive something under two hundred bucks and half-saturate the market, or whatever they call it.

I've been writing stories. I have quite a packet of them that I am working over, health and leisure permitting. Recently I sold a travel letter to Partisan Review Partisan Review at the new rates. [ . . . ] at the new rates. [ . . . ]

I'm making plans, together with Ed McGehee (already represented by you and Mr. Russell), to get together a travel anthology and to expand the article into a preface. I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd take this matter over for us. The anthology will be called Spanish Travelers Spanish Travelers or something like that and will be made up of accounts by 18th-, 19th-, and 20th-century travelers in Spain, many great writers among them from Casanova to Roger Fry. Random House has already expressed interest in this, and if you like we can get up an outline. or something like that and will be made up of accounts by 18th-, 19th-, and 20th-century travelers in Spain, many great writers among them from Casanova to Roger Fry. Random House has already expressed interest in this, and if you like we can get up an outline.

Please read this overwrought doc.u.ment charitably.