B007RT1UH4 EBOK (55 page)

The work goes on, God knows how long or how much longer, it weighs almost as much as its master now, and I am afraid Harcourt Brace is going to fall off the Christmas tree when they see it. Christ, Christ how I dread that.

But I’ve put
Justine
aside and am keeping warm one flank with kerosene, and back to work on “Chapter XX” —O God.
A Day with the Pope
, D.V., and in silence, since AM radio in this country is a total loss as far as I can see. No music, words, words—(while I like Carlyle busily assemble the golden Gospel of Silence “effectively compressed in thirty fine volumes”).

And so this evening being spent in Spain, and Good God! the sadness of that, of going through notes made there, even Baedeker’s stiff prose on it brings a lump to the throat. But there!

love to you, and you all,

W.

Oblomov
: the 1859 novel by Russian novelist Ivan Goncharov (1812–91), whose title character is the embodiment of physical and mental laziness.

Justine
: Sade’s porno-philosophic novel (1791) is cited several times in
R
.

A Day with the Pope
: a picture book by Charles Hugo Doyle, published by Doubleday in 1950, and cited twice in
R
(546, 827).

Carlyle: the
ODQ
quotes this line from John Morley’s biography of Thomas Carlyle: “The whole of the golden Gospel of Silence is now effectively compressed in thirty-five volumes” (sic: not “fine,” as WG has it).

To Sheri Martinelli

[
American artist and writer (1918–96); WG fell in love with her in 1947, and based
R
’s Esme on her. This undated draft was found among Gaddis’s papers; it is unclear whether it was copied and mailed, but it’s too lovely to omit.
]

Massapequa

[Summer 1953?]

Sheri, what a great happiness it was, seeing you again; though there were enough moments of feeling young again, and too young again, and though other people seem to want to be young again I do not, once was enough. So we all go not changing just getting more so.

But you again, is something else, and still beautiful, yes: even then I could not under-stand other people taking your presence for granted and still I cannot, nor understand, no one weeps looking at you, I will. So, such a recognition, seeing you again: but to be grateful, right before God and everybody, for your being happy to see me again, take that for granted! no, no that could not be for granted, too kind a gift. Or, if the present is every moment reshaping the past, so that any instant is liable to come up with the verdict, I was wrong all the time! or, I was right all along—there: I was right all along? Not being a scientist who by measurement attempts prediction, it is a very dangerous way to live today. So gifts asked from the most selfish motives are the humbly received. And considered upon retirement. Knowing you go right on now, every minute being, thought of and loved you know. My selfish motives, my humble gratitude, then always the retirement for finally there is only the work. And all the while you are loved.

W.

the present [...] I was right all along: cf.
R
92: “How real is any of the past, being every moment revalued to make the present possible: to come up one day saying, —You see? I was right all the time. Or, —Then I was wrong, all the time.” Wyatt repeats the remark later: “—But the past, he broke in, —every instant the past is reshaping itself, it shifts and breaks and changes, and every minute we’re finding, I was right . . . I was wrong, until . . .” (590).

To Helen Parker

[
In May, WG submitted the completed manuscript of
R
to Harcourt, Brace; they assigned it for copyediting to Catharine (Katy) Carver (1921–97), managing editor of
Partisan Review
at the time.
]

Massapequa, Long Island

7 July 1953

dear Helen.

All things considered, I think the weekend worked out quite successful; though right now I am grateful to be getting down to working again, after a month of not, which has been quite distracting, the mind scattered in every direction now being collected.

Sheri Martinelli: A double exposure taken c. 1945 by an unknown photographer.

From a
Vogue
photo shoot in the late 1940s.

Lunch with one’s (soi-disant) publishers proved a restrained and formal enough affair: no demands made upon the “author” (also soi-d—) nor hardly suggestions, concerning the work in hand. And I have here the first chapter, with their (Katy’s) suggestions and queries which are really very gentle. So thank heaven I say down to work and the incumbent sanity. [...]

good wishes, love,

W.

To Edith Gaddis

[Massapequa]

7 July 1953

dear Mother,

I’ve just had a pleasant and newsy letter from Mary; and am writing her now (and enclosing the “hundred”). Also she enclosed a letter from Joan ——(Dick Humphry’s lady friend) which suggested that I try writing something for
Gourmet
, a project I’m going to get at immediately and see if it’s possible.

Also I forgot to say, that in our talk Bernice suggested that when
The Recognitions
is done, I may well try for a Guggenheim. So we’ll keep that in mind!

Now, since the Harcourt check is come through, if you need this month’s 50 from the rent, as you must, by all means hold on to it.

Otherwise, this place, aside from the front hedge, of course, is in order and peaceful again.

love,

W.

Mary [...] Joan [...] Dick Humphry: Mary Woodburn; the others were family friends.

Gourmet
: a magazine devoted to food and wine (1941–2009).

Bernice: Bernice Baumgarten (1902–78), WG’s agent, and wife of novelist James Gould Cozzens.