Part 28 (1/2)

How true to the facts was Marat-Sade Marat-Sade? Only last night I read in Encounter Encounter a letter from Leo Labedz on the new [Rolf] Hochhuth play [ a letter from Leo Labedz on the new [Rolf] Hochhuth play [Soldiers, Necrology on Geneva] having to do with Churchill's crimes against the Poles in exile. Churchill is accused of murder, no less, and Hochhuth says he has years of study behind the charge. I doubt that very much and Labedz is furious. I suppose this puts Hochhuth's play in the cold-war propaganda category, and I a.s.sume that it's propaganda you oppose and not the disfigurement of facts by a creative person.

Could you send me a copy of the speech you gave in California? I want very much to read it.

Yours affectionately,

Benjamin N. Nelson (1911-77) taught history and sociology at the University of Minnesota, where he met Bellow, and later at the New School for Social Research. His books include Freud and the Twentieth Century Freud and the Twentieth Century (1957) and a posthumous collection of essays (1957) and a posthumous collection of essays, On the Roads to Modernity: Conscience, Science, and Civilizations (1981). (1981).

1968.

To Edward s.h.i.+ls January 20, 1968 Chicago Dear Ed: I spoke to your mother yesterday. She complains that she is feeling weak, but she sounded better to me. Her voice seemed stronger. I think it knocked her out to come back from [Dr.] Horner's office on the train. She couldn't get a cab, as I a.s.sume she wrote you. Anyway, I think I hear some improvement.

I came back from NY a few days ago with my Gaullist ribbon and medal. Your last letter was on the dining-room table and I re-read it for company. The situation in Chicago is odd and getting odder. It's a peculiarly contactless life, when you're not here. There are lots of people in these buildings. As if the pioneer emptiness were set upright, with indoor plumbing, books, food, but the spirit of the prairies still dominant. [ . . . ] No one other than David Grene asks me to dinner. If it weren't for my divorce case I would have no social existence whatsoever [ . . . ] I simply get up in the morning and go to work, and I read at night. Like Abe Lincoln. When I go out there's my city-sodden, mean and boring. [ . . . ] I tell myself that in any great city I could see as many people as I liked and wonder why I put up with such privation. It gets one. In that same light I saw N[athan] Leites with his bald musclebound skull hurrying through melting slush, moving with ballistic energy from 53rd to 55th, a bottle under his arm-moving with such force, and the muscles of shyness and a.n.a.lytic subtlety (probably pointless) gathered up on his shaven head. [ . . . ]

Anyway, there it is. I miss you very much. And I may turn up [in England] in mid-May.

Love,

To Meyer Schapiro March 18, 1968 Oaxaca Dear Meyer- I thought you were were in England. Now that I know you're at home I shall certainly come to see you before you leave. in England. Now that I know you're at home I shall certainly come to see you before you leave.

This is my second morning in Oaxaca. When you wake up in the tropics you understand the horror of your Northern fatigue. And the flowers tell you that you have been around much too long. Unfinished business is my excuse.

Of course I want to contribute to the Delmore fund. And I hope John Berryman will become, and remain, one of the judges. I haven't seen him in two years, and he was in poor condition then, in full alcoholic bloat. I'm very fond of Berryman, and I admire him. I see why these self-destructive lives are led. But I can't convince myself that it is a good tradition.

Did you receive tear-sheets of a longish story [”The Old System”] I published in January? I thought you might be interested in it. The New Yorker The New Yorker wanted deletions, so I gave it to wanted deletions, so I gave it to Playboy Playboy in protest-lucrative protest. However, there are no poor but honest magazines. The quarterlies are about as corrupt as the slicks, and Hugh Hefner has pleasanter vices than Wm. Phillips. in protest-lucrative protest. However, there are no poor but honest magazines. The quarterlies are about as corrupt as the slicks, and Hugh Hefner has pleasanter vices than Wm. Phillips.

My best wishes to you,

To Richard Stern July 16, 1968 [East Hampton]

Cher Richard- Richard- The summer is hot in East Hampton, and all the artist roses are preening, even the ailing and the possibly dying are drinking their gin in the sun and talking welfare, reform or revolution, anarchy, guerilla warfare, action-building stately mansions on foundations of personal wretchedness.

The swimming is excellent.

I am getting in some good travail travail.

Since you mention weights and measures, I am about ten pounds too heavy and now eat yogurt at lunch. Toujours poursuivi des femmes, pourtant traca.s.se. Des circonstances a.s.sez marrant. Elles sont Toujours poursuivi des femmes, pourtant traca.s.se. Des circonstances a.s.sez marrant. Elles sont toutes toutes fachees-au nord, ouest, et ici meme. Mais je continue tout de meme de faire mes devoirs fachees-au nord, ouest, et ici meme. Mais je continue tout de meme de faire mes devoirs [ [78].

Adam is in excellent condition, only a spot of mother-induced neurosis here and there. Surtout raisonnable Surtout raisonnable [ [79]. One can always talk talk to him, which cannot be said of too many. I realize that this is the last of his childhood, and that we will go forward, towards fuller forms . . . I skip the next comment. to him, which cannot be said of too many. I realize that this is the last of his childhood, and that we will go forward, towards fuller forms . . . I skip the next comment.

I have death on my mind, today. S. S. Goldberg is ill, John Steinbeck is in the Southampton Hospital, Jean Stafford has just been released from same. So we, here, are feeling the wing. But in this weather it is more cooling than anything else. The Angel of Death, floating over the house, brings air-conditioning.

Much love,

Tape-moi une lettre. [80]

To Richard Stern [n.d.,] [East Hampton]

My dear Richard: Je m'impatiente de lire ce que t'as ecrit [ [81]. It's a pity because I won't be in Chicago now until October, but perhaps you can send Xerox copies to the Villa Serbelloni, that old Rockefeller chateau [at Bellagio]. I feel as though I might be more at home in a junkyard, closer to origins, than at Lake Como, but one takes one's junkyard with one.

Anyway, you have probably written something marvelous. I judge by the fact that you are usually so guarded in your opinion of your own work. Your credit is very good with me, you see.

I went to visit Daniel on the Vineyard. Adam and I flew from East Hampton in a chartered b.u.mblebee with short wings through a gale, and we were scared but in heaven. Then we got down on the ground to Daniel's cheers, and spent some time lying on the beaches and having ha.s.sles about robins' eggs. [ . . . ]

I want to thank you for your note on Mosby Mosby. It encourages me to write more stories. Before the Bartleby silence settles over me. When time's winged chariot gets ahead of you and you can't hear the wheels.

I suppose you'll be back in Chicago before long. Maggie (who sends love and kisses) will be staying on in the country when I leave, using my whirl-wind Pontiac. [ . . . ]

Love,

Mosby's Memoirs and Other Stories had just appeared. had just appeared.

To Margaret Staats September 4, 1968 Villa Serbelloni, Bellagio Dear Maggie, It couldn't be better. The very bathroom is situated in a Romanesque tower. Everything is simply beautiful. I am beginning to recover from the flight.

Love, To Margaret Staats September 5, 1968 [Bellagio]

Dearest Maggie- This is very rough, but you can do it. You have the love of many people-it's not just me. You don't need to go through this alone. I know the doctor gave you a bad scare, but it's about two hundred to one that the tumor is benign. If you badly need me, I can fly back, but I will wait for news on Monday.

But don't isolate yourself from friends-don't lose your head, honey. These will be four grim days. They have to be faced. That's not easy. But don't send people away. You need them. I wish I were there with you, but since we've got the Atlantic between us I'll wait for the results of the biopsy. It should be just that, only that-a biopsy. Harold [Taylor] will advise you. Take his advice. Bless you, honey.