Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg (60 page)

Jean-Louis

 

P.S. You won the trial in SF. My money not in yet—soon!

P.S. Germany just bought
On the Road
, Rowohlt Verlag Publishers.

Allen—my money so far has been one short story loot—but more coming and in January $8,000 royalty check! When and how and where you want your loot? (Rumor in N.Y. that I don't want to pay you!)

 

 

Allen Ginsberg [Paris, France] to
Jack Kerouac [n.p., Orlando, Florida?]

November 13-15, 1957

Nov 13, 57 Paris

 

Dear Jack:

Gregory brought his letter over, I'll add a page and save stamps and reassure you, we are all still here, not bounded over Atlantic—reason I'm so still is I'm confronted with great backlog of unanswered letters, have just been sick in bed with Asia flu for two weeks, ago to now and been reading book on Apollinaire and learning more French. Suddenly I can read French a little better—not enough to read books, but enough to read poems I see quoted in books—I am all hung up on French poetry, I went into a big bookstore, saw French translations of whole plays by Mayakovsky, pamphlets of fine funny poems by Essenin, then the big bookshelves of XX century French bohemians, Max Jacob, Robert Desnos (a French girl said I looked like Desnos profile), Reverdy, Henri Pichette—all their huge books, Fargue, Cendrars etc., names, I never read them, but read a few by each, all personal and alive, Prevert, and all the funny surrealists, so I want to improve French and dig them, none translated, and all fine fellows, I can see from the pages of loose sprawled longlined scribblings they've published for fifty years here now—what sad treasuries for Grove or City Lights if anybody ever were able to have time and intelligence enough to organize and edit and transliterate them all, would be marvelous to read in U.S.—most of it almost unknown really. Anyway my French I happy to say, getting better so one day I'll be like R. [Richard] Howard with French books in my house in Paterson and be able maybe to enjoy them.

Gregory as you can see, he improved in Frisco, and he improved since, and now is even riper, and is like an Apollinaire, prolific and golden glories period for him, in his poverty too marvelously, how he gets along here hand to mouth, daily, begging and conning and wooing, but he writes daily marvelous poems like the enclosed—enough already for another huge book since last month's City Lights manuscript. Gregory is in his golden inspired period, like in Mexico, but even more, and soberer solemner, calm genius every morning he wakes and types last nites two or three pages of poems, bordering on strangeness, now he's even going further, will enter a classical phase seen and possibly construct structural poems and explore big forms, his genius showered with strangeness.

We are getting lots of great junk too, better than anything I ever had with Bill or Garver, so pure horse we sniff it, simply sniff, no ugly viaginal needles, and get as good almost a bang as a main line, but longer lasting and stronger in long run. Very cheap here too, and this around for Louvre visits.

Not yet explored Paris, just inches, still to make solemn visits to cemeteries Per Lachaise and visit Apollinaire's menhir. (MENHIR) and Montparnasse to Baudelaire.

Granite surrounded by ivy.

I sat weeping in Cafe Select, once haunted by Gide and Picasso and well dresst Jacob, last week writing first lines of great formal elegy for my mother—

I write best when I weep, I wrote a lot of that weeping anyway, and get idea for huge expandable form of such a poem, will finish later and make big elegy, perhaps less repetition in parts, but I gotta get a rhythm up to cry.

Re Lafcadio: Good news, suddenly the long-lost father Orlovsky appeared on scene, visited, promised $10 a week support family, talked gravely and dignified with Laf, the crises in household still go on, but now not critical, no mad deeds will be done, so it can wait Peter's return—we wrote you unrealizing you were already out of NYC—meanwhile Joyce Glassman wrote us and proposed she investigate with Donald Cook, so the situation's there in hand and we got sensible fine letter from Laf, he has beard he says and will be great artist of space and time and draws constantly and sent us a burning red face in crayon of Laf-spaceman-mystic with eyeshields of red glasses.

Let me know when plays are ready. I think play down the Beat Generation talk and let others do that, it's just an idea, don't let them maneuver you into getting too hung up on slogans however good, let Holmes write up all that, just as “S.F. Renaissance” is true, but nothing to make an issue of (for us). I mean I've avoided generally talking in terms of SF as if it were an entiry. You only get hung on publicity-NY-politics if you let them or be encouraged to beat BEAT drum—you have too much else to offer to be tied down to that and have to talk about that every time someone asks your opinion of weather—it'll only embarrass you (probably already has)—Let Holmes handle that department. Next time someone asks you say it was just a phrase you tossed off one fine day and it means something but not everything. Tell them you got six vaginas.

[ . . . ]

Bill's manuscript [
Naked Lunch
] was read by Mason Hoffenberg who pronounced it the greatest greatest book he read of all time, Mason brought it to Olympia [Press] and assures me it'll be taken (Mason wrote a porno book for them and knows them and is also an advisor) he is astounded by WSB and his reaction I gave great sigh of relief, I think everything'll be alright with the book, it'll be published here in toto intact. Meanwhile Bill sent me another thirty pages and says he has another hundred coming up with new final character like Grand Inquisitor who will wrap the whole book up in one unified theme and stream and interspace—time plot and fill in all lacunae and unify everything into perfect structure and delight, so.

I guess it will be published here then in the Spring. I wait to hear word this week and then will notify Bill. If. I think it'll work out they'll buy it tho terms are lousy, they only pay $600 per printing (i.e. if reprinted he gets another 600) but I'll try get a formal contract reserving all mag. rights for
Evergreen
to Bill etc. I have to contact [Sterling] Lord and get name of his Paris office and have them arrange legal details as I personally don't want to be responsible for another fuckup like Wyn. However with fugitive shady Olympia, the terms of publication seem bound to be disadvantageous and nothing much can be done, except the great main thing get book into print once for all. Perhaps I'm proceeding too nervously and in too much haste merely to get book in print irregardless of business hallucination dignities Bill deserves and might demand—what you think? I don't know, I be relieved to see it actually accepted. But I'll try to have Lord's Paris office protect Bill.

[ . . . ]

I get lots of letters, also from many unknown young businessmen who tearfully congratulate me on being free and say they've lost their souls. I have to answer them all and have several dozen letters to write—which is why I seldom go near the typewriter, which is why I haven't written you. And then I owe LaVigne six letters, and Whalen, and McClure started writing me again (he was seized with madness when he saw your
Blues
book, evidently Ferl is showing it around) and called it the great poem since Milton—also said he wept reading
Road
, in urinal scene with Neal, where you quarrel. And I always owe letters to Bill—and my unfinished project to finish another fifty pages letter to you recording continuing our Europe tour—still have all Italy and Vienna and Munich and Amsterdam to tell you about—which will do soon—and typing up poetry which I rarely do—there isn't enough time for all the great flowery tasks. You must be snowed under, more than me, I wish I knew all details. (Oh, I found Lord's address, never mind).

Still no sign Genet. What novel you writing? “Zizi's Lament” is incidentally about a new disease we sent Bill a clipping about, KURU, a relative to Asian Amok and Latah, a laughing disease, “whole villages laughing themselves to exhaustion and death.”

I thought record was rotten (I played it in front of painter hipsters here and cringed) but Ferl says I should make a new full length LP he'll put out with Fantasy records (it's all signed up and arranged) so as soon as I get voice back after flu will record whole book and new poems too. My record with Grove is censored and I'm mad and I got embarrassed, by my own tone because where I really rescued tearful seriousness in that particular reading was in parts two and three (which continued upward in beauty and non-goofing intensity tears)—and I asked Grove to print those parts on record—which advice ignored—so far as I think it's all a goof that record—they missed the big meat, those vultures. However it don't really matter. Besides I put out good record in time, or not, but will. So disgusted I sold my copy of record here for 800 francs to eat with (less than $2 to someone who was going to England). Bookstore friend of Ferlinghetti here has big window display of fifty copies of my book
¹³¹
and sells a few a week so I get small income from that.

What number best seller are you nowadays? How dreamy that all is. Thank god. Neal wants $5000 or has he not written? We were talking about your money, our own fantasies and demands, but nothing we grub for will match Neal's final Great Demand for fifty or ten thous for the hosses. Whatcha gonna do? I should write him a letter. I wonder what he's thinking. When
Howl
trial was over there was a front page banner headline all across page of
SF Chronicle
announcing results—wonder what he thought—and did he see you on TV?

[ . . . ]

I haven't ever received a copy of
Road
, if you ever get time to take necessary steps. Tell Viking there's not one copy on sale in Paris and they could make a fortune here too. In English—several hundred copies anyway. Shortage I guess.

It was I suggested to Ferl several months ago for the 10th time that he reread your blues for City Lights, may I add. I also told him to read Bill's book for a short printable selected Burroughs—perhaps
Word
. However, whether it was my suggestion that prompted him or no, when he contacts you about your book (presumably I guess he'll do something) remind him to read Bill's and get it to him after Grove is done, I think he might do it. That way some Burroughs in U.S. I looking at your recent letters for unfinished business. (Never got Peter's Venice letter).

My father and brother write you seemed confused and nowhere on TV, were you high? I supposed they missed the mad drama, dream.

I got mad long Rimbaud letter from boy in Bordentown Reformatory.
¹³²
I wrote mad Rimbaud letter to [Rosalind] Constable at time saying Luce should send me (and you) (and Peter and Greg) on secret trip Russia. She said she passed letter along, who knows? And wished us well, was sad, in our greatness. I wrote Gary. Whalen in N.W.

Love,

Tears and Kisses

Allen

 

Nov. 15: Olympia rejected Bill's book but will still try change their mind and might.
Partisan
sent me $12 for a poem and I sent them three Corsos. We could get free ads and advertise to get $ to publish Bill ourselves or by subscription if worst comes.