Selected Letters of William Styron (84 page)

I’ll write further soon; meanwhile enjoy beautiful Belgium.

As ever,

B.S.

T
O
J
ACK
Z
AJAC

November 2, 1989 Roxbury, CT

Dear Jack,

It was lovely of you and Corda to come to my public exhibition—such a bore it must have been—but it was wonderful going to Santa Cruz and having that good dinner with all the friends. Also, grim as it was, the trip through the Mall was memorable, and I’m grateful as usual for your hospitality. I got to New York right on schedule, much of the trip made endurable by reading these
Smithsonians
. I was especially taken by the article on George Rhoads (Oct. 1988) and his remarkable Rube Goldberg machines. I’ve known George ever since our Bohemian days in New York in the late 40s. He lived in total squalor (as did I) and, being poverty-stricken, we often dined off of government surplus canned fish. He took the photograph of me that adorned the first edition of
Lie Down in Darkness
. For years he painted rather murky paintings and it’s lovely to see that he’s come into his own.

Thanks again to you guys for everything. Rose was fascinated by Corda’s info on yeast and will be in touch.

Ever thine,

Bill      

T
O
B
OB
B
RUSTEIN

December 3, 1989 Roxbury, CT

Dear Bobby, I greatly appreciated what you said on the phone about my
Vanity Fair
essay. I hope you know that you are the Ideal Critic (in the best sense) and that I value your opinion more than almost anyone I know (or don’t know), and so when you express such a reaction I feel tremendously fulfilled. So as always I’m very grateful to you. And I’m looking forward to seeing you bientôt.

Ever, Bill S.

T
O
R
OBERT
B
RUCCOLI

December 9, 1989 Roxbury, CT

Dear Mr. Bruccoli,

Thank you for sending me the reader’s report on
Lie Down in Darkness
, with its many apprehensions concerning the book’s steamy passages. Actually, the book was pretty heavily censored by the publishers and an account of this appears, I am told, in the 1980 volume of
Studies in Bibliography
in an article by Arthur D. Casciato.
^*VVV
Thanks again for sending me the item.

Sincerely William Styron

T
O
C
HARLES
S
ULLIVAN

December 23, 1989 Roxbury, CT

Dear Charlie,

I want to thank you and Dorothy for the magnificent box of citrus fruit. It will be greatly relished and, I’m sure, quickly devoured by the mob of family and friends who are gathering here this Xmas weekend.

Your call was also greatly appreciated and it reminded me that I’d been out of touch for quite some time. In the past year I’ve had physical problems which have set me back a little, fortunately not too far back. Last winter I began to notice that my right arm had lost strength and was malfunctioning. When shaving or combing my hair I found I couldn’t properly rotate my wrist, and at certain angles I dropped things like coffeepots. I went up to Mass. General Hospital and checked in with a neurologist, who after various tests decided I had a nerve compression in the fifth vertebra of my neck, and this was preventing my biceps from working properly; in fact, the right bicep had atrophied 40%. I was able to trace this back to an injury I’d received at Camp Lejeune in 1951: during a stream crossing exercise I’d been forced up against a wire cable and my neck had caught the blow, sending a kind of shock down my arm. Neck and arm were quite painful for a few days, but I was young, of course, and eventually everything healed and so forgot about it. Anyway, the docs said an operation was necessary to prevent total atrophy of that arm muscle. So I had the operation and lo and behold the surgeon discovered a broken ligament from that 1951 stream crossing incident, a ligament which had calcified and caused the entire problem.

The operation was a total success and now the arm is 85% functioning, which satisfies me for all intents and purposes, especially since the prediction is that recovery after another six months or so will be virtually total. But I’m still amazed that the USMC accident should rise up and strike me 37 years later.

In October I also had a brand new lens implanted in my left eye. The cataracts I’d been born with, and which caused me problems at Parris Island & Quantico in 1945 (I managed to get a waiver) finally became quite opaque this past year, especially the one in the left eye, which got so “thick” that I was legally blind. Then came this amazing operation (in
Waterbury, nearby) which was totally painless, took less than 20 minutes (I’d dread a dentist visit more), and left me with 20/20 vision without glasses, looking at the world and its bright colors with such freshness that I felt—and still feel—like Adam in the garden of Eden. So we can bemoan much of our modern technology but, my God, when technology works such miracles one can’t help but feel full of praise.

So, one step back, two steps forward. That seems to be the way of the body as one gets older, or am I being too generous and optimistic? I’m glad your ticker is mending well.

I’m glad I talked to you about the censorship of letters in the Pacific during WWII. I finally have made a breakthrough, I think, in my USMC fiction, a short novel involving the narrator (a Stingo prototype), and Ollie North–type zealot of a company commander who is determined to prevent an enlisted man sending love letters to his sweetheart because the letters are explicitly erotic. But that’s only the main theme, or the dominant theme—the other theme, as is usual in much of my work, is the misuse of power.

I might be consulting you by phone again in the near future if you don’t mind. I’m off to St. Barts with the family—a wonderful French island with grand food and grander beaches. Hope to be in touch before long. Fond regards to Dorothy.

Semper fi,

Bill      

Isn’t what’s happening in E. Europe astounding?
^*WWW

T
O
G
AVIN
C
OLOGNE
-B
ROOKES

February 15, 1990 Roxbury, CT

Dear Gavin,

Herewith the
Vanity Fair
essay for your perusal. As I think I told you the piece caused a tremendous commotion here and as a result I’m turning it into a small book for Random House, enlarging and elaborating here and there. The piece has already been contracted for by journals in France, Italy, Germany and Spain. Typically, no one in England seems to have wanted to publish it, though probably Cape will do it as a book since Random House is doing it.

I appreciate your comments about the movie of
Sophie
. My reactions have been quite similar to yours. I think on a certain level the film works pretty well—in a linear sense, capturing the essence of Sophie’s story vis-à-vis her past and revelations about Auschwitz. But I deeply regret other parts. The sadomasochistic relationship which I established between Sophie and Nathan was softened to the point of absence. The double suicide at the end was totally unprepared for, not a hint of Nathan’s obsession which led up to that event. Also, one of the reasons that Peter MacNichol’s reading of “Ample Make This Bed” is so bad—aside from the horrible obviousness, which you pointed out—is MacNichol himself, entirely too callow for the role, especially with that glutinous accent from God knows where in Dixie, certainly not Tidewater Virginia. The moment I cringed most severely was when he was about to fuck, or something, Meryl Streep and exposed those pathetic little skinny legs of his. What a hoot.

I can only give you a provisional answer to your query about using my cottage to work in for a month or so in the spring. Certainly the invitation I gave you still holds, but there are one or two things it depends upon. Rose and I have a friend who has been renting the place for quite a few summers, and he probably will want it again; however, it may be that he won’t be able to come until mid-June or July, in which case you would be welcome to have it. I usually go up to Martha’s Vineyard on June first, so there may be an overlap if you come in mid-May but that would be O.K. so far as I’m concerned. Let me say that while I can’t give you any definite word at the moment, the prospects would seem good, so what I’d like to do is wait a few weeks before giving you a definite promise. I hope this won’t strain your schedule. I know that you would want a firm idea fairly
soon so I’ll do my best to let you know before too long. I’m delighted your novel is progressing to your satisfaction, and I’d like to be able to give you shelter for a while.
^*XXX
Stay in touch.

Faithfully,

Bill S.

T
O
W
ILLIE
M
ORRIS

July 28, 1990 Vineyard Haven, MA

Dear Willie,

I’m enormously pleased, of course, that you are going to tie the nuptial knot. I’d heard rumors of this event as a possibility but your confirmation delighted me. I’m eager to meet JoAnne
^*YYY
since, among other things, you have impeccable taste in girls/women/females/dogs and I know she fills the bill in every respect.

I’ve had trouble prying myself off this island and so it looks as though a late July visit to the Magnolia State will be at the very least delayed until a later date. The reason for all this is largely my upcoming book
Darkness Visible
, which is an expanded version of the essay I wrote on depression in
Vanity Fair
. The book, even before publication, seems to be attracting a lot of attention and as a result I’ve had to do a lot of annoying but (to Random House, at least) necessary publicity. I’m here right now doing a segment for Diane Sawyer for a forthcoming “Prime Time” ABC program, and the same network is doing an hour-long documentary on depression (Aug. 29) in which I’m featured somewhat against my will—inadvertently, really—I’ve found myself in the process of becoming a leading
guru on melancholia, and God Knows where it will end. The book is officially slated to be published Sept. 27
^th
but copies are due any day now and I’ll make sure you get a mint example, signed by your old pal and fellow sufferer. They are making a first edition of 75,000 copies, which is a lot, but Jason Epstein told me that he thought it would sell forever. Everybody seems to be a victim of the malady these days, and my message is fairly simple: tough it out, brothers and sisters, for one day you
will
get well.

But I’ve got to get back to the novel since I’m very uncomfortable in the guru role except in the short term.

Your beautiful piece in
Esquire
on Celia reaffirmed my belief in the beauty and constancy of English prose when written by a loving and gifted hand such as yours.
^*ZZZ
I heard nothing but awed praise for your essay from every quarter.

Stay in touch and let’s lay plans for an early get-together. Dinah and Tashmoo send their love to you, as does my other girl Rose.

Your steadfast pal,

Stingo            

T
O
M
IKE
M
EWSHAW

October 21, 1990 Roxbury, CT

Dear Mike,

I greatly appreciate your letter about
Darkness Visible
—totally aside from the pleasure in hearing from you again. It must be a kind of reverse culture-shock to come back to God’s Country (!) after so long a stay in the real Arcadia. For me the USA loses quality incrementally from day to day—it’s in virtual decay on all levels, morally, spiritually and physically, best typified by a drive out of New York City (as I do with some frequency) where the potholed roadways and shocking slums juxtaposed against the skyscrapers make it all appear like a rich Bangladesh on the verge of collapse. I’ve got half a mind to pull my roots and live in France,
where I’ve been often recently (thereby defying the foreboding I expressed in my little book) and where life still seems sweet instead of fear-ridden and mainly hideous.

I’m rather astonished at the way
Darkness Visible
has caught on. There are 140,000 copies in print at the moment, according to Random House, with no end in sight. Curious to think that a slender little volume about lunacy may provide a meal ticket for my superannuated years.

I’ll be fascinated to see
Year of the Gun
.
^†aaa
John Frankenheimer can be an inspired director. He once had an option on
Lie Down in Darkness
; nothing came of it, though through no particular deficiency of his. My view on the movies is: take the loot and run with it, and I assume that happily you’ve been bestowed with loot. Run with it.

Good to hear of your residence in Ch’ville. I hope this means that our paths will cross more often now. Remember me to Slim please, and keep a stiff upper lip in these weird times.

Yours,

Bill

T
O
T
HOMAS
G
UINZBURG

February 1, 1991
^†bbb
Roxbury, CT

Dear Tom,

Since the time when we agreed to become judges for the Turner Tomorrow Award, Carlos Fuentes, Peter Matthiessen and I have begun to have severe doubts concerning the worth of the enterprise and we want to take this occasion to set down our objections. Plainly the award was conceived in the spirit of idealism and with the best of intentions. But it now appears that what we had assumed might be a contest that would produce works of literary merit has really become a scramble by writers of questionable talent to cash in on a basically flawed concept.

None of us questions the fact that, in gifted hands, a fine futuristic novel could be written about survival and prosperity on the planet and even that positive solutions to world problems might be credibly created by a novelist of genuine vision. But as the contest seems to be shaping up, it is highly doubtful that such a work will be produced or indeed that we would be presented with any book that could come close to meeting the literary standards that the three of us would feel obliged to impose.