Dear Committee Members: A Novel (15 page)

Still, both the administration and I remained wary, even after receiving the news—shocking to one and all—that my colleagues in English unanimously supported my nomination. Even then I was tempted to refuse, but three facts argued for my installation: 1. because of recent departures and abdications, and because nearly half our faculty are now ineligible underpaid adjuncts, there is no other qualified and willing candidate; 2. my literary career, if not dead, is at a profound and dismal standstill (just ask Ken about this when you see him); and 3. the
condition and morale of the department can’t get any worse. Hence: I agreed. And it appears that the month of October will be chockablock with bureaucratic amusements and festivities I’m not free to turn down.

I wish we had thought to schedule a reunion before.

You asked me point-blank about Troy. I’m not surprised to hear he’s become an ascetic (though I hadn’t pictured the uncooked food and the sandals); he must look like a seer, and I suppose the Bentham literary pilgrims are eagerly gathering each evening, lotus position, by his cabin door. But the truth? No, Troy never read me his work during any late-night phone conversations. We never spoke by phone, and I have no idea what he’s writing, or if he’s writing at all.

So sue me, I lied. But you probably suspected me of doing so, and you invited Troy regardless. You and I are both in the business of believing in, and promoting, things that don’t yet exist. The leap of faith: it’s equal parts wishful thinking, vicarious ambition, and bullshit, and yet … I can already envision the moment when I open Troy’s new book and find within it, among the acknowledgments, your name and mine; and we both know how beautiful the book will be, how clearly it will speak to something within us—some previously unarticulated thought or reflection that, once recognized, we will never want to be without again.

Enjoy the summer, Eleanor. Fall will arrive soon enough, with requests from students trickling in via e-mail, and the trees that shade Willard Hall flushing red at the hem. There is nothing more promising or hopeful than the start of the academic cycle: another chance for self-improvement, for putting into practice what one learned—or failed to learn—during the previous year.

Forgive the length of this letter. Next time I will try to send you a shorter one.

In the meantime I hope once again to consider myself

Your friend,

Jay

*
How did Janet, an admissions officer in the law school, acquire a copy of Boti’s letter, you ask? It pains me to say so, but it appears that my ex-wife is now dating the dean.

Acknowledgments

I’m very grateful to my editor, the marvelous Gerald Howard, and to Jeremy Medina, Amy Ryan, Emily Mahon, and Nicole Pedersen at Doubleday. Chocolate and flowers to Lisa Bankoff (who was very patient with my limited understanding of the cell phone) and to Daniel Kirschen at ICM.

To the Rockefeller Bellagio Center: I’ll be indebted forever for the gift of a residency in spring 2011.

Thanks to Lawrence Jacobs, world’s most enthusiastic and supportive spouse, who read the first draft of this book and said, “I’m glad we have different last names.”

As for Emma and Bella who, defying logic, seem not to have tired of my quirky sense of humor: here’s to you two crazy weasels, with thanks and love.

About the Author

Julie Schumacher’s first novel,
The Body Is Water
, was an ALA Notable Book of the Year and a PEN/Hemingway Award finalist. Her other books include a short story collection,
An Explanation for Chaos
, and five books for younger readers. She lives in St. Paul and is a faculty member in the Creative Writing Program and the Department of English at the University of Minnesota. She has written more letters of recommendation than she cares to recall.