Letters (17 page)
Authors: Saul Bellow
As ever,
To Melvin Tumin
[n.d.] [Minneapolis]
Anita is fast winning her campaign to go to Europe. I have been opposing her. I don’t like to hazard a year of writing, and France or Italy may be too exciting and disturbing. I came back last fall exhausted and sick and for two or three months was good for nothing. Instead of going to Europe I have been proposing that we settle in the East, settle for good in the country outside New York. I’m sure I can have the Bard job in ’49 and I’ve thought of buying a house in that part of the state. I’m weary of milling around, living in a different house each year, getting accustomed to strange beds, new rooms, curious furniture and the peculiarities and grievances of landladies. Formerly Anita agreed with me. In fact I didn’t get her out of Chicago initially without a great deal of
veytig.
But she’s got the migratory habit now, apparently. She promises to settle down when we return from abroad. And she’s winning, as I’ve said. If everything were to go well in Europe . . . well, there are attractions. I continue to hesitate because Anita did so badly in Mexico with the language; she was terrified and clung with all her weight to me; I couldn’t tolerate that. The results, though I haven’t said so before—perhaps didn’t really understand—were disastrous. Nearly fatal. But she promises to behave differently in France. Kappy and Celia are very actively agitating and I am, this week, for the first time really tempted. When we leave Minneapolis in July we’ll be homeless again. Rich DPs, that’s what it comes to. So it seems we won’t be living in the same vicinity, you and I, for another year at least.
veytig.
But she’s got the migratory habit now, apparently. She promises to settle down when we return from abroad. And she’s winning, as I’ve said. If everything were to go well in Europe . . . well, there are attractions. I continue to hesitate because Anita did so badly in Mexico with the language; she was terrified and clung with all her weight to me; I couldn’t tolerate that. The results, though I haven’t said so before—perhaps didn’t really understand—were disastrous. Nearly fatal. But she promises to behave differently in France. Kappy and Celia are very actively agitating and I am, this week, for the first time really tempted. When we leave Minneapolis in July we’ll be homeless again. Rich DPs, that’s what it comes to. So it seems we won’t be living in the same vicinity, you and I, for another year at least.
I’m never, as you know, without some kind of
kopdreyenish
[
22
]. And recently the chief
dreynish
has been publishing. We were hard hit by the failure of
The Victim
. For it was, financially, a failure. Vanguard sold less than twenty-five hundred copies. It was hard not to blame Henle for that. The flop he made of it has been the scandal of publishers’ row for months. [ . . . ]
kopdreyenish
[
22
]. And recently the chief
dreynish
has been publishing. We were hard hit by the failure of
The Victim
. For it was, financially, a failure. Vanguard sold less than twenty-five hundred copies. It was hard not to blame Henle for that. The flop he made of it has been the scandal of publishers’ row for months. [ . . . ]
Just at present I’m working on a novelette called
The Crab and the Butterfly
which maybe
Partisan
will publish. Rahv has an idea that something should be done for the novella and has written to say that he plans to run one a year—in imitation of
Horizon
, let it be added. The crab is human tenacious-ness to life, the butterfly is the gift of existence which the crab stalks. The crab cannot leap or chase but stands with open claws while the creature flaps over him. This is, for a while, I hope, the last of the “heavies.” I should like to write a purely comic book next in a spirit of
le gai savoir
, Nietzsche’s
gaya scienza
, ringing comedy, not the centerless irony of the
New Yorker
which takes the name nowadays. I’m much attracted by a subject to which you would have no objections, I’m sure—I wouldn’t write or publish any such thing—: the high fun of the weeks after you returned from Guatemala. The comic side of it, of which I’m sure you’re aware, appeals to me tremendously. Naturally, I wouldn’t undertake it without a
nil obstat
from you though what I have in mind is not a copy of the original. Someone altogether different drawn from a very few elements that are yours and totally transformed.
The Crab and the Butterfly
which maybe
Partisan
will publish. Rahv has an idea that something should be done for the novella and has written to say that he plans to run one a year—in imitation of
Horizon
, let it be added. The crab is human tenacious-ness to life, the butterfly is the gift of existence which the crab stalks. The crab cannot leap or chase but stands with open claws while the creature flaps over him. This is, for a while, I hope, the last of the “heavies.” I should like to write a purely comic book next in a spirit of
le gai savoir
, Nietzsche’s
gaya scienza
, ringing comedy, not the centerless irony of the
New Yorker
which takes the name nowadays. I’m much attracted by a subject to which you would have no objections, I’m sure—I wouldn’t write or publish any such thing—: the high fun of the weeks after you returned from Guatemala. The comic side of it, of which I’m sure you’re aware, appeals to me tremendously. Naturally, I wouldn’t undertake it without a
nil obstat
from you though what I have in mind is not a copy of the original. Someone altogether different drawn from a very few elements that are yours and totally transformed.
Write me,
Love,
To Henry Volkening
[n.d.] [Minneapolis]
Dear Henry:
Henle has released me. Not without anger and reproach, but he has let me off. I’m tingling with distress over the whole thing and I’m also relieved; the relief definitely outweighs the other. Clearly there was no pleasant way to do it, though I tried very hard to be moderate. [ . . . ]
The word’s been going around New York for weeks now that I was going to break away; I’m sure he must have heard it and expected me to ask to be let off.
I hope you don’t come in for any reproaches. None of this was your doing though Henle will almost certainly feel that the recent renewal of our connection has something to do with the break. I apologize in advance for any bad feeling between you that I may cause.
But now the way’s open and we can begin to consider proposals. Or do you think I ought not to negotiate a contract with anyone until I have a book ready?
Best,
To Alfred Kazin
May 2, 1948 Minneapolis
Dear Alfred:
There’s universal lamentation because you’re not coming. Sam Monk, who is the Department’s new head, was deeply disappointed and the lady instructors and female assistants set up a cry like Milton’s Syrian damsels over the limbs of Osiris. It’s perfectly decorous to report this to a man on the threshold of fatherhood, isn’t it? And the McCloskeys ask me to say that your decision saddens them. But on the whole I think you’re wise to stick to your book; there aren’t many members of the English Department who wouldn’t gladly change places with you.
I went to hear Purcell’s
Dido and Aeneas
yesterday and sat next to Herr Doktor Allen, the philologist, who did his best to ruin the concert for me utterly. First, were you coming? He regretted that you weren’t (even he!) and recalled a trip he and MacDowell had arranged for visiting professors to the north of the state when you were here. Then, “The man who reviews Mr. [Allen] Seager’s new book in the
Saturday Review of Literature
says he is the best of the professor-novelists—better than Warren. What do you think of that?” I hoped Mr. Seager wouldn’t get a swelled head and fall from first position. Next we started on the writing of books and the shafts began to zip past. All I could think of was, “See what a rent the envious Casca made!” How they hate all writers who don’t appear in the
PMLA
or the
Post
! And there was the chorus singing, “Great Minds Against Themselves Conspire.” Yes, by becoming professors, not satisfied to remain mere writers.
Dido and Aeneas
yesterday and sat next to Herr Doktor Allen, the philologist, who did his best to ruin the concert for me utterly. First, were you coming? He regretted that you weren’t (even he!) and recalled a trip he and MacDowell had arranged for visiting professors to the north of the state when you were here. Then, “The man who reviews Mr. [Allen] Seager’s new book in the
Saturday Review of Literature
says he is the best of the professor-novelists—better than Warren. What do you think of that?” I hoped Mr. Seager wouldn’t get a swelled head and fall from first position. Next we started on the writing of books and the shafts began to zip past. All I could think of was, “See what a rent the envious Casca made!” How they hate all writers who don’t appear in the
PMLA
or the
Post
! And there was the chorus singing, “Great Minds Against Themselves Conspire.” Yes, by becoming professors, not satisfied to remain mere writers.
So I think you’ve chosen wisely.
Needless to say, your liking
The Victim
made me very happy—grateful, to qualify further. I think of the conversation between Cummings and interlocutor, in this connection, on the preface to
The Enormous Room
:
The Victim
made me very happy—grateful, to qualify further. I think of the conversation between Cummings and interlocutor, in this connection, on the preface to
The Enormous Room
:
“Mr. Cummings, don’t you want to be read more widely?”
“Widely? Not deeply?”
Of course the proud novelist assumes that there is a depth. There’s a great deal of truth in your remark that the book is harshly conceived. If I thought this harshness were a result of character or temperament I should be extremely disquieted. I understand it, however, as the result of an incomplete assimilation of suffering and cruelty and an underdevelopment of the elements that make for harmony. I sense them but I don’t see them as plainly as the others and haven’t mastered them as elements of fiction. I could simply invoke them, state them flatly, but I’d feel false if I did. I think the bonds of naturalism were too strong for me in
The Victim
. I didn’t want to go beyond probabilities for the two men. I drove myself to be faithful to them, not sufficiently aware that
The Victim
was in a substantial sense a fantasy, too. I ought to have given Leventhal greater gifts. I’m trying to understand why I showered so many on Allbee instead. It’s a perverse kind of favoritism toward outsiders and strictness with the beloved children—which originates, I think, with my father.
The Victim
. I didn’t want to go beyond probabilities for the two men. I drove myself to be faithful to them, not sufficiently aware that
The Victim
was in a substantial sense a fantasy, too. I ought to have given Leventhal greater gifts. I’m trying to understand why I showered so many on Allbee instead. It’s a perverse kind of favoritism toward outsiders and strictness with the beloved children—which originates, I think, with my father.
It’s very gratifying for me to be able to discuss this with you. We don’t get enough of this kind of discussion, you and I.
We haven’t decided where to go next year. Anita is all for Europe. I’m not convinced, though my mind isn’t shut to it. Did you enjoy Italy, and can you make any recommendations? I asked Paolo [Milano] for some a few months ago, but he hasn’t answered.
Love to both of you and best regards to Pearl,
[ . . . ] Henle and I have as of last week broken off. He bungled both books awfully.
In Act III of
Dido and Aeneas
the chorus sings: “Great minds against themselves conspire, / and shun the cure they most desire.” Paolo Milano (1905-1988), editor of
The Portable Dante
(1947) and later chief literary critic for
L’Espresso
, would be among Bellow’s close friends for forty years.
Dido and Aeneas
the chorus sings: “Great minds against themselves conspire, / and shun the cure they most desire.” Paolo Milano (1905-1988), editor of
The Portable Dante
(1947) and later chief literary critic for
L’Espresso
, would be among Bellow’s close friends for forty years.
To David Bazelon
May 27, 1948 Minneapolis
Dear Dave—
[ . . . ] The trouble with anthropology is that it doesn’t consider people at full depth. Anti-poetic, therefore basically unfaithful. Mere botanizing.
Spring is fabulously beautiful here in the wilderness.
Love,
To the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation
June 4, 1948 Minneapolis
Dear Mr. Moe:
The house we had been promised in New York is not forthcoming and, as we have received an invitation from friends in Paris to join them and have been assured of living quarters by them, I should like to know if the Guggenheim Foundation would have any objection to our going abroad in October.
Sincerely yours,
To Henry Volkening
June 10, 1948 Minneapolis
Dear Henry:
I have a short vacation between terms, and I’m typing out one of the stories I told you about. I’ll send you a copy—rough—so that you can gather some idea of what it is I have in the trunk. This is fairly representative. I have a feeling that you’ll see it as little-mag material, but maybe I’m wrong.
I’ve met Jim Powers twice and I like him tremendously. His wife is so abnormally quiet that there’s little you can say about her save that she
is
quiet. We hope to know her better.
is
quiet. We hope to know her better.
Alvin Schwartz, a friend of mine whose book
The Blowtop
was published and murdered by Dial, has sent me eighty pages of a new novel which I think better than the first and very, very good. I’ve advised him to get in touch with you and you’ll probably hear from him soon.
The Blowtop
was published and murdered by Dial, has sent me eighty pages of a new novel which I think better than the first and very, very good. I’ve advised him to get in touch with you and you’ll probably hear from him soon.
Thanks for the tear-sheets from
PW
. [Monroe] Engel [at Viking Press] sent me a copy of the Graham Greene [
The Heart of the Matter
]. I think it’s his best though I have plenty of reservations about it. Why don’t religious writers
benefit
by faith? They’re so timid and tangential about it. In their place I’d want to roar like a lion. That’s the lion of Judah, I suppose. Whereas Mr. Greene takes his Christian lamb to school with him and lets the teacher—i.e., the strength of the secular—put it out. I’d like to see a little more extravagance.
PW
. [Monroe] Engel [at Viking Press] sent me a copy of the Graham Greene [
The Heart of the Matter
]. I think it’s his best though I have plenty of reservations about it. Why don’t religious writers
benefit
by faith? They’re so timid and tangential about it. In their place I’d want to roar like a lion. That’s the lion of Judah, I suppose. Whereas Mr. Greene takes his Christian lamb to school with him and lets the teacher—i.e., the strength of the secular—put it out. I’d like to see a little more extravagance.
Best,
To Henry Volkening
September 27, 1948 Paris
Dear Henry:
I seem to be unable to accustom myself to ships. A very light sea made me sick the second day out and it wasn’t till we were nearly on the other side before the feeling left me that my sweetbreads had changed places with my brain. But everything has been very peaceful save for the robberies we’ve been subjected to. Prices are doubled as soon as one opens one’s mouth, though one were to have two heads and a beret on each.
Next Monday we get into the apartment we’ve rented from an old English gentleman who used to race automobiles and who still writes articles for the racing magazines in London and carries on an international correspondence with Greek and Portuguese fans. He’s crazy about the new typewriter I had to bring for a bribe and he’s taking it to Cannes to write a book, leaving me to struggle with mine in his, I hope, not too cold study. [ . . . ]
Best,
To the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation
October 20, 1948 Paris
Dear Mr. Moe:
We are for the time being settled at 24 Rue Marbeuf, Paris VIII, in a flat belonging to a man who may come back from Nice in a month’s time or stay there till April. The coal strike will induce him to remain, I think. Should he come back sooner than we expect we may move on to Italy where life is reputedly simpler.
With best wishes,
To Samuel and Rochelle Freifeld
[Postmark illegible; postcard of Le Jardin et Palais du Luxembourg, Paris]
Dear Sam and Rochelle,
We’re here and all and not Frenchified. I at least—Jamesian American—more stubbornly barbarian than ever. How are you and when are you going to write your stout friend?
To Monroe Engel
October 25, 1948 Paris
Dear Monroe:
I’m sorry we had all that mix-up before sailing, but I’m sure you’ve experienced the harassment of traveling
en famille
, no one more reliable than yourself to take care of tickets, trunks, bags, boxes and sacks, etcetera. A few friends came to the hotel to see us over the last humps and we somehow got the trunks shut and ready.
en famille
, no one more reliable than yourself to take care of tickets, trunks, bags, boxes and sacks, etcetera. A few friends came to the hotel to see us over the last humps and we somehow got the trunks shut and ready.
Other books
Origins: The Fire by Debra Driza
Untitled by Unknown Author
Grooming Kitty: A BDSM Romance by Kirsten McCurran
The Perdition Score by Richard Kadrey
Indigo by Beverly Jenkins
In Too Deep by Cherry Adair
Jo Beverley - [Malloren] by Secrets of the Night
Bound For Murder by Childs, Laura
The Little Doctor by Jean S. Macleod