Part 22 (1/2)

To Josephine Herbst [n.d.] [Rio Piedras]

Dear Josie- It's wicked to steal a writer's typewriter. It should be punishable by death. I've lost two machines, and I've been angry enough to commit murder, both times. I hope it hasn't held you you up too badly. Susan tells me that your stay in NYC has not been as happy as it might have been. Certainly, if I'd been there, I wouldn't have allowed it to go off-side. We'd have found a remedy for you-have made a helicopter pilot of you, or something to cheer the winter. The city, when your friends are writers, can be largely awful. One winter at a time, has always been my motto. up too badly. Susan tells me that your stay in NYC has not been as happy as it might have been. Certainly, if I'd been there, I wouldn't have allowed it to go off-side. We'd have found a remedy for you-have made a helicopter pilot of you, or something to cheer the winter. The city, when your friends are writers, can be largely awful. One winter at a time, has always been my motto.

P[uerto]R[ico] has been excellent for me. I've no [Alfred] Kazinian complaints to make of it. But my G.o.d! When one has been right one has been right. Where does that leave matters? Of course it's barbarous, noisy, undisciplined, etc. And dirty, too, with a great many rats. But there are even more lizards than rats, and more flowers than lizards (I love both) and more perfumes than stinks. And the relation between beauty and garbage strikes me as being right.

The book is going well, too.

Love,

And The n.o.ble Savage The n.o.ble Savage has you at the top of the list this time-black and green, fresh and handsome, official and new, for spring. has you at the top of the list this time-black and green, fresh and handsome, official and new, for spring.

To Susan Gla.s.sman [n.d.] [Rio Piedras]

Honey, I feel very off this morning, not feverish exactly, but tropical. I am hoping not to burst into hatred of this place between now and departure, but I do feel awfully close and shut in, maybe because I've begun to miss you. I chafe, and I've stopped being obliging. I refused to give a talk to the librarians on Sat.u.r.day.

What an eye-opener this book is to me now. I seem to have the cure which should only have arrived with the conclusion. It came prematurely.

People have filled up daily conversation with clever and bitter comedy; at the same time, they've tried to behave responsibly responsibly. And now I've become too big a boy to play on with these secondary things, and Herzog Herzog shows it. The big, unwieldy, pathetic, and above all unnecessary shows it. The big, unwieldy, pathetic, and above all unnecessary responsibility responsibility which has grown larger than principle itself. Ay, ay! Well, I'm sure that, as so often, you find me clear as mud. But the conclusion is clear to me. The Self, as so conceived, is probably the funniest of all human conceptions. This was what I seem to have been after in b.u.mmidge [hero of which has grown larger than principle itself. Ay, ay! Well, I'm sure that, as so often, you find me clear as mud. But the conclusion is clear to me. The Self, as so conceived, is probably the funniest of all human conceptions. This was what I seem to have been after in b.u.mmidge [hero of The Last a.n.a.lysis The Last a.n.a.lysis], and certainly in Henderson (I want! want! I I want!) So it's farewell with laughter to that darling false self-image. What Herzog does with his memory is to create his darling image. Then he is horrified at, say, his father's renegade desertion of St Dominique St . . . Well, enough of this. What you want to know is, Do I long to hold you in my arms? Yes, I do, greatly. And kiss you on the mouth and elsewhere. want!) So it's farewell with laughter to that darling false self-image. What Herzog does with his memory is to create his darling image. Then he is horrified at, say, his father's renegade desertion of St Dominique St . . . Well, enough of this. What you want to know is, Do I long to hold you in my arms? Yes, I do, greatly. And kiss you on the mouth and elsewhere.

Love,

To Susan Gla.s.sman [n.d.] [Rio Piedras]

Dolly-Today I have aches (aix les pains, as J. Joyce said). I reached the dentist at last, and the cavity in that tooth was trifling. What caused the pain was tartar under the gums, which had to be sc.r.a.ped out, and my mouth is limping, now the Novocain has worn off. Life has begun to reach me in PR The day before yesterday, during rush hour on Ave. Ponce, the Studebaker broke down. Four hours later, it was fixed. I had to sit on the curb four hours, waiting for the mechanic. It was all in all rather enjoyable, for I hadn't had so much compulsory peace in quite a while. I'm writing this in Keith's office and he's just come back, and I'll rush to the P.O. so that you may have love's message for the weekend. as J. Joyce said). I reached the dentist at last, and the cavity in that tooth was trifling. What caused the pain was tartar under the gums, which had to be sc.r.a.ped out, and my mouth is limping, now the Novocain has worn off. Life has begun to reach me in PR The day before yesterday, during rush hour on Ave. Ponce, the Studebaker broke down. Four hours later, it was fixed. I had to sit on the curb four hours, waiting for the mechanic. It was all in all rather enjoyable, for I hadn't had so much compulsory peace in quite a while. I'm writing this in Keith's office and he's just come back, and I'll rush to the P.O. so that you may have love's message for the weekend.

Sweetheart!

To Susan Gla.s.sman April 24, 1961 [Rio Piedras]

Dolly, how gladly I'd have crept into your bed last night. I missed you badly. And today, and daily, and especially nightly. I've slept in your bed since you left, but the fragrance has gone out of it by now. My heart is on 68th St. Love, you say? Love.

I had frightful nightmares. I dreamed that Carlos [i.e., Jonas Schwartz] was suing. He's such a hornet, how would he not? And then I woke and the prospect was even worse. It panicked me. And I've involved Esquire Esquire. Of course I don't really think he'd do anything, it would make him look like a real idiot. He can't afford it professionally. Still. You know. It's dreadful not to be able to write about real matters; it turns all this into child's play while industry and politics etc. do as they like, drive us into the shelters, make our lives foolish horrors and disfigure the whole world. Ay! Anyway, some of the facts have been fiddled with to place the scene in Chicago. And what is life without a few grave anxieties? Incomplete.

This is the second long day of rain, and it's like sharing a green raincoat with a steaming kettle. How I long for the 13th! [ . . . ]

I feel like Chicken Little after the sky fell.

Love, love, love, Jonas Schwartz, here referred to as ”Carlos,” was recognizable in the early excerpt from Herzog Herzog scheduled to appear in scheduled to appear in Esquire Esquire.

To Susan Gla.s.sman May 1, 1961 [Rio Piedras]

Dolly: Just as you said, I got a raving letter from Pat, foaming with superlatives. One more soul I've made happy. What a terrific record. Only I haven't heard from Esq. Esq. and it's suspiciously like troubled silence. Oh well, maybe Jonas will sue and it'll be the making of me. They can take my house, etc. and leave me free to say even more. [ . . . ] and it's suspiciously like troubled silence. Oh well, maybe Jonas will sue and it'll be the making of me. They can take my house, etc. and leave me free to say even more. [ . . . ]

It won't be long now before I shake this green dust from my feet. I wish to look into your blue gray eyes and groan and kiss your fingers and play the beast to your beauty.

With love, love and kisses,

To Susan Gla.s.sman [n.d.] [Rio Piedras]

Dolly, I haven't heard from you lately. I a.s.sume you're busy with your father's visit. And I myself? As you see, slowed up a little, but some of this stuff is new, and it's understandable. The next forty or so pages will be mostly Juliana's, and then we pa.s.s to Daisy, to Shura's visit, to Mama and Papa and to the conclusion in the country. I had frightening misgivings about the stuff to appear in Esquire Esquire, and at the last minute I changed Carlos to a crippled war veteran, a hero of Omaha Beach. For the book itself I'll have to consult long with Viking's lawyers. Hate to lose Carlos comme il est comme il est [ [66].

Getting off this island is to me identical in feeling with the finis.h.i.+ng of this book-two p.r.o.ngs of the same force. You can see I'm not dawdling over it. I want to be free.

Meantime Benitez [chairman of the University of Puerto Rico English Dept.] has asked me to take a permanent appointment here. I said no with thanks. It's flattering. But then I have been good in that course; I can't be modest without distortion, and facts are facts.

[ . . . ] Last week I read Dr. [Albert] Ellis's s.e.x Without Guilt s.e.x Without Guilt. It all seems sensible enough, but something-something makes it feel like happiness in a chicken coop. There's a junky sanity about it.

Yes, I did hear from Greg. He wrote me a wonderful, friendly, familiar, explanatory and excited letter about his visit to Chicago, and his interview for admission, and all his friends. He spent two days with Adam and Sondra and sent me a very full report of everything. So we're perfectly fine. No more crisis.

If you see John McCormick tell him I'd particularly like him to write a response to [Seymour] Krim. ”Notes from a Different Cat.” We must have a second piece or it'll look as though we sponsor this lunatic. John's going off, I know, but I want to press him very hard to do this. He's the best of all possible answerers.

I miss you, Dolly. I grow hollow at the feet with the sense of incompleteness. I may have to walk into Grand Union on my hands.

Love,