Letters (20 page)
Authors: Saul Bellow
Dearest Oscar, Edith, Miriam, Nathan—and may the list grow even longer:
I’m convinced from my experience that Rome is exactly what everyone in Chicago needs. Italy, anyhow, since Rome would overflow. One year’s fellowship for every Chicagoan would bring a bloodless and happy revolution. As it is, I’m a lone beneficiary. Anita is in Paris.
Love,
To Samuel Freifeld
[Postmark illegible; postcard of Chiesa di Santa Maria in Cosmedin, Rome]
Dear Sam’l—
The temple on the right was once the temple of the Vestals. Near the Tiber, a few yards away, was the Greek district in the days of Augustus. I’m telling you this because Rome reminded me that you were a historian. As for me, I’m no longer a professor, whatever else I may be, having resigned from Minn. Chances are I won’t come back to the U.S. in a hurry. Not because I don’t miss you, but a year’s exposure is incomplete.
Love to Rochelle and Judy,
To David Bazelon
January 25, 1949 [Rome]
Dear Dave:
Ecco Roma!
I don’t think one should settle in the Village without first making the Grand Tour for perspective. For example, Eddie’s Aurora of W. 4th St. makes better spaghetti than any restaurant I’ve tried in Italy. Also, the San Remo is socially more stimulating than the original S.R.—and so on. I’ll be properly grateful when I come back.
I don’t think one should settle in the Village without first making the Grand Tour for perspective. For example, Eddie’s Aurora of W. 4th St. makes better spaghetti than any restaurant I’ve tried in Italy. Also, the San Remo is socially more stimulating than the original S.R.—and so on. I’ll be properly grateful when I come back.
Here is magnificent Rome—a much more kindly, open, accessible and humane place than Paris. I can’t however really say I’m homesick. Particularly not for Minneapolis. What I do miss is friendly intimacy. Imagine what it would be like in N.Y. with ten words of English and very few acquaintances. I’m here alone; Anita is in Paris. So what I get is a species of lonely-mute’s view of the great city. A condition not without its interest. And you?
Qu’est-ce que tu fais? Tout est bon?
[
25
]
Qu’est-ce que tu fais? Tout est bon?
[
25
]
Love,
You should see [Lionel] Abel in Paris!!
C’est assez cocasse
[
26
].
C’est assez cocasse
[
26
].
Dress coat, monocle. Works the restaurants.
Lionel Abel (1911-2001) was a playwright, critic and member of the
Partisan Review
circle who published numerous books including a memoir,
The Intellectual Follies
(1984).
Partisan Review
circle who published numerous books including a memoir,
The Intellectual Follies
(1984).
To Henry Volkening
February 27, 1949 Paris
Dear Henry:
I wrote to you about a month ago and you haven’t answered so I reckon the letter must be lost. That occasionally happens. I haven’t heard from Rahv either; I imagine he must be licking some of the wounds from that unjust story of Mary McCarthy’s that won Mr. Connolly’s
Horizon
prize. [ . . . ] I read the story last night; there’ll be an awful wailing in the Village when it gets to the States; it’s an utterly cold wind of a story. I think that Mary McCarthy, amazingly enough, doesn’t know how cold.
Horizon
prize. [ . . . ] I read the story last night; there’ll be an awful wailing in the Village when it gets to the States; it’s an utterly cold wind of a story. I think that Mary McCarthy, amazingly enough, doesn’t know how cold.
I’ve rented a room on Rue des Saints-Pères—Hôtel de l’Académie—and am scribbling away at a book. I don’t know how good it is—will be—but it’s a book, and it’s my vocation to write books and I follow it with the restlessness of true egomania. I’m preparing the full outline of another, one that I have confidence in but don’t feel quite prepared to begin, since it has to do with Americans abroad. So I’m occupied for the time being with the aforementioned. It will be not of the best but, in these dreadful times of low standards, good enough. I hope.
The communications of Guy Henle apropos of the Italian translation are terser and terser. If it pleases God, I’ve seen the last. As for Smith College, I’ve said neither yes nor no and I’m waiting to see what’s offered. [ . . . ]
All the best,
Mary McCarthy’s brief novel
The Oasis,
in which Philip Rahv and others are satirized, had been published in
Horizon
.
The Oasis,
in which Philip Rahv and others are satirized, had been published in
Horizon
.
To Henry Volkening
[n.d.] [Paris]
Dear Henry:
No, I have no sardonic comments for Mr. [John Crowe] Ransom for whom my fiery spirit usually makes an allowance of respect. I don’t expect him to stop being an editor for my sake and I think he behaves far more honorably than Rahv, that Commissar of Grumps, since I’ve never heard him represent himself as a snorting radical straight in the line of Prometheus, whereas Mr. Rahv is supposed to handle the Promethean fire as though it were no hotter than liniment, and is a charter-rebel from way back. I’m sending to ask why he didn’t tell me his reasons for rejecting the story. He’s owed me a letter for about two months and I think I now see why. He’ll say, of course, that it is a good story. (He’s printed
only
good stories these many, many years and mine falls below the
niveau général
[
27
].) But I’m going to make things as hard as possible for him because he’s too long believed that the
avant-garde
(what a damning idea
avant-garde
is anyhow) has made its home with him. Like an aunt who once knew Lenin. When a story comes that tears out the nice old borders of sleepy sweet-williams the aunt snaps that of course she wants something wilder, tiger lilies, lilies of Mr. Joyce’s breed, such as you see in the conservatory, and prefers the real thing in sweet-williams to impostures in tigers.
only
good stories these many, many years and mine falls below the
niveau général
[
27
].) But I’m going to make things as hard as possible for him because he’s too long believed that the
avant-garde
(what a damning idea
avant-garde
is anyhow) has made its home with him. Like an aunt who once knew Lenin. When a story comes that tears out the nice old borders of sleepy sweet-williams the aunt snaps that of course she wants something wilder, tiger lilies, lilies of Mr. Joyce’s breed, such as you see in the conservatory, and prefers the real thing in sweet-williams to impostures in tigers.
I’m telling him also that I observed with dissatisfaction in somebody else’s
PR
—my sub. has been cut off—that “Dr. Pep” is announced as a story. “Dr. Pep” is
not
a story. It’s something else,
sui generis
; I don’t know what.
PR
—my sub. has been cut off—that “Dr. Pep” is announced as a story. “Dr. Pep” is
not
a story. It’s something else,
sui generis
; I don’t know what.
Since I want to see “Mr. Green” published and would like to see it published in
Kenyon Review
, I’d consent to have dashes in place of that terrible word in most common use all over the English speaking world and the great coagulate verb-noun-adjective of school, bar, factory and army which dominates most conversations.Even Truman allows his use of “son of abitch” to be quoted. What circumspect dogs we are, compared to the chief executive.
He
knows times have changed. So since my ambition to be President is fruitless anyhow, because I’m Canadian-born, let there be dashes. And then, if Ransom doesn’t want it, I think you might give over torturing editors with their limitations and send “Mr. Green” to the showers. I’d like if possible to have Lionel Trilling see it, with the note attached that I’d hoped he’d be able to read it in
PR
.
Kenyon Review
, I’d consent to have dashes in place of that terrible word in most common use all over the English speaking world and the great coagulate verb-noun-adjective of school, bar, factory and army which dominates most conversations.Even Truman allows his use of “son of abitch” to be quoted. What circumspect dogs we are, compared to the chief executive.
He
knows times have changed. So since my ambition to be President is fruitless anyhow, because I’m Canadian-born, let there be dashes. And then, if Ransom doesn’t want it, I think you might give over torturing editors with their limitations and send “Mr. Green” to the showers. I’d like if possible to have Lionel Trilling see it, with the note attached that I’d hoped he’d be able to read it in
PR
.
I hope by summer to be done with a mss. of about two hundred pages which Viking might be willing to bring out, not as the contract novel, which I’ll begin as soon as this first thing is out of the way. Again, in this present book, the subject is not cheery but the matter, page to page, is very comic and perhaps
Kenyon
would like the first chapter of thirty pages since it is—
je le dis moi-même
[
28
]—rather funny. The subsequent book will be, according to my lights (and you may think them dark lights), altogether a comedy. [ . . . ]
Kenyon
would like the first chapter of thirty pages since it is—
je le dis moi-même
[
28
]—rather funny. The subsequent book will be, according to my lights (and you may think them dark lights), altogether a comedy. [ . . . ]
Please remember me to Mr. Russell and Mrs. Volkening.
Best,
To J. F. Powers
March 30, 1949 Paris
Dear Jim:
About two months ago I came back from the magnificence of Rome to the impressiveness of Paris, felt myself all over, found I was just about the same, except perhaps a little more spoiled and lazy, and have been on a strict regime ever since, writing daily. I’m about half done with a book; the subject’s a gloomy one but the book is funny, a combination I can trust you to understand. The title I’ve chosen for it is
The Crab and the Butterfly
, which I think does the tendency justice, and if I don’t go anywhere—it isn’t likely; the slack has just about been run out of Mr. Guggenheim’s bounty—I ought to be done with it in the summer. A bad time, as everyone knows, to finish a book. A book ought to be finished in the spring. [ . . . ]
The Crab and the Butterfly
, which I think does the tendency justice, and if I don’t go anywhere—it isn’t likely; the slack has just about been run out of Mr. Guggenheim’s bounty—I ought to be done with it in the summer. A bad time, as everyone knows, to finish a book. A book ought to be finished in the spring. [ . . . ]
I read Mr. Waugh’s review of your book [
Prince of Darkness and Other Stories
], and seeing a statement he made to
Time
(which runs after him with basins) I was able to understand it. He told the interviewer that his favorite American writer was Earl Biggers, or something like that. What I most disliked in his review was his failure to make it implicit (I didn’t expect him to put it in so many words) that you were a better writer than he. As for [John] Lehmann, he’s the best of publishers but he is a publisher and is bound to give the wrong reason; and what sort of review is it that starts out with the publisher’s claims? I loathe that. I loathe snobs and Waugh is one of the worst sort. I’ve met a good number of snobs here; the best of them redeem themselves with profligacy. It shows they have a rather generous, helpless side. But snobbery
and
piousness? I have an Old Testament eye for abominations, a little reddened by this one.
Prince of Darkness and Other Stories
], and seeing a statement he made to
Time
(which runs after him with basins) I was able to understand it. He told the interviewer that his favorite American writer was Earl Biggers, or something like that. What I most disliked in his review was his failure to make it implicit (I didn’t expect him to put it in so many words) that you were a better writer than he. As for [John] Lehmann, he’s the best of publishers but he is a publisher and is bound to give the wrong reason; and what sort of review is it that starts out with the publisher’s claims? I loathe that. I loathe snobs and Waugh is one of the worst sort. I’ve met a good number of snobs here; the best of them redeem themselves with profligacy. It shows they have a rather generous, helpless side. But snobbery
and
piousness? I have an Old Testament eye for abominations, a little reddened by this one.
[ . . . ]
You ought to do the piece for
Partisan
.
Partisan
has been kind of lean since it became a monthly. That’s partly
Partisan
’s fault. I’m sure that
PR
,
Kenyon
and some of the branch publications of the
Journal of Philology
like the
Hudson
or
Sewanee
turn down enough good material every month to make one fine number. But it is partly our fault, too. There ought to be more doing, more kinds of things written. A little guild life. [Leslie] Fiedler has the right idea, don’t you think so? He does all kinds of writing. Well, perhaps it’s because he’s in Montana. Substitute for social life. [ . . . ]
Partisan
.
Partisan
has been kind of lean since it became a monthly. That’s partly
Partisan
’s fault. I’m sure that
PR
,
Kenyon
and some of the branch publications of the
Journal of Philology
like the
Hudson
or
Sewanee
turn down enough good material every month to make one fine number. But it is partly our fault, too. There ought to be more doing, more kinds of things written. A little guild life. [Leslie] Fiedler has the right idea, don’t you think so? He does all kinds of writing. Well, perhaps it’s because he’s in Montana. Substitute for social life. [ . . . ]
Let’s hear from you,
To David Bazelon
April 10, 1949 Paris
Dear Dave:
Yah, I’ll write to Huntington Brown [of the Minnesota English Department] for you. I hope it does good, for Huntington and I had difficult times with each other. He’s the archetype of the learned idiot. He’s a Harvard Ph.D., conservative to the flap of his long underwear, collects pornographic poetry, has a pistol range in his basement, knows how to mend a dog sled in driving snow and is an Admiral Peary
manqué
, is president of the burial society of Minneapolis, and takes vitamin B1 all summer long on the belief that mosquitoes will not bite a man whose perspiration is saturated with it. And that’s not all. But the man I’m going to send the hottest plug to is Sam’l Monk himself, a very sweet and intelligent guy who is head of the department and one of the dozen or so people in Minneapolis that I miss. [ . . . ]
manqué
, is president of the burial society of Minneapolis, and takes vitamin B1 all summer long on the belief that mosquitoes will not bite a man whose perspiration is saturated with it. And that’s not all. But the man I’m going to send the hottest plug to is Sam’l Monk himself, a very sweet and intelligent guy who is head of the department and one of the dozen or so people in Minneapolis that I miss. [ . . . ]
Of course, one sees a number of collapsed Americans here, but their inflation could not have been very high at home. There’s Jimmy Baldwin, for instance, who seems to be down and out and is sponging mercilessly. He hasn’t applied his sponge to me yet. He doesn’t do a great deal. Whenever I pass the Flore and the Deux Magots he’s in company, drinking beer. Then there’s [Milton] Klonsky, who is
verschwunden, spurlos, versenkt
[
29
]. He hated Paris, like every good American—that’s practically the litmus test; said he was driving off to Nice with some creep. He may be in Nice, he may be in Italy. Who knows? He was very low in spirits. I was a little low myself when he arrived, but in the Empyrean by comparison; hence no company for him. Besides, I was working. Do I say “besides”? That was the ray that blights, for Milton. Anyway, he’s gone and I haven’t heard from him. As for [Lionel] Abel, he’s in the Vaterland and thinks of Eighth St. as the
verfluchte Kameroons.
[
30
] [ . . . ]
verschwunden, spurlos, versenkt
[
29
]. He hated Paris, like every good American—that’s practically the litmus test; said he was driving off to Nice with some creep. He may be in Nice, he may be in Italy. Who knows? He was very low in spirits. I was a little low myself when he arrived, but in the Empyrean by comparison; hence no company for him. Besides, I was working. Do I say “besides”? That was the ray that blights, for Milton. Anyway, he’s gone and I haven’t heard from him. As for [Lionel] Abel, he’s in the Vaterland and thinks of Eighth St. as the
verfluchte Kameroons.
[
30
] [ . . . ]
What news? What are you really going to do next year? How is my friend Rosenfeld? Since starting with the [Wilhelm] Reich he has nothing to say to me. Coldness of the happy cured to their sinful and sickly old friends.
Love,
Milton Klonsky (1921-1981) was an essayist, historian and William Blake scholar best known for
The Fabulous Ego
(1974).
The Fabulous Ego
(1974).
To Henry Volkening
April 13, 1949 Paris
Dear Henry:
I’ve just about touched the halfway mark in this book (called
The Crab and the Butterfly
, tentatively). It’s writing itself very quickly and it’s certainly full of astonishing things—I mean things that astonish me. I’m hunting for point of view with a long gun and shoot at anything that moves, especially Henry James. The first draft ought to be finished in June, the final one early in the fall. I won’t have done so badly, then, my first year out of the professoriate. The six months it took me to get started perhaps make me step all the livelier.
The Crab and the Butterfly
, tentatively). It’s writing itself very quickly and it’s certainly full of astonishing things—I mean things that astonish me. I’m hunting for point of view with a long gun and shoot at anything that moves, especially Henry James. The first draft ought to be finished in June, the final one early in the fall. I won’t have done so badly, then, my first year out of the professoriate. The six months it took me to get started perhaps make me step all the livelier.
Smith College was a bubble. It’s just as well because Anita has got a very fine job as medical social worker with an American agency for DPs and there’s no special hurry about my becoming employed. With a book to show, I can apply in 1950 for a Guggenheim renewal; my chances will be better. Jim Powers was turned down on his application for a second ride. Too many meritorious applications. But if he had had a large amount of work to show I think Moe wouldn’t have refused him. Poor Jim is
au pied du mur
[
31
] with two kids to support.
au pied du mur
[
31
] with two kids to support.
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