Kisses galore
T
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO CATHERINE WOOD
Paris Nov 9 1949
Woody darling—
Thank you for the clippings: poor Greta [Garbo]—but a great deal of it is her own fault. And I agree with you that I should not stay in Paris—but my finances are so mixed up right now that I don’t dare make another move until my agent gets thing’s [sic] straightened [out]. I want terribly to go to Sicily—however, unless something happens, I will probably have to come home around the 1st of the year. If only the various publishers who owe me money would pay up I could certainly afford the winter in Sicily. It’s such a bore. I recvd. an invitation to Teddy’s79 wedding, and would like to send them a gift, but where do I send it? Both my books are having a great success in Europe, especially France and Italy, and I’m as famous as a movie star—which is sort of fun. I don’t know how long before I’ll finish my new book, certainly five or six months. Darlin give my love to Margery, and write me very soon. Have a lovely thanksgiving, and know that I love you always.
T
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO LEO LERMAN
22, Rue de L’Université80
Paris
Nov 15 1949
Myrt hon—
No, pet, your letter (if, indeed, you sent one) has never reached me—so write another, as your ever-loving palsy is dying for Myrt’s news. No news from this end—or rather too much—and I’m not up to writing it because 1) I have the grippe, 2) and dysentery—so am very weak. So here I am in bed, surrounded by parrots and pekingnese [sic] puppies—don’t ask me to explain this last, just take my word for it. Has been a lovely autumn here, though. Lots of smoky chimneys and leaves. Honey, someone wrote that you had given birth. Gave me rather a turn. “Leo has given birth to Speed Lankin [Lamkin].”81 What does it mean? And is Speed Lankin that boy called Hillyer? Have you read Paul Bowles’ book?82 Terribly thin, really, but I rather liked it. I liked the first twenty pages of Fritz’s book, but thought the rest unreadable. There is a young French writer called Moujoudki [Marcel Mouloudji]—he is published by Gallimard, and has not been translated; awfully good, you should be the first to publish him. Hear you are doing fine with Mlle. Do you think Flair will be amusing? Certainly their “dummy” issue doesn’t promise much. Give my best to Richard and Gray [Foy].83 I miss you. Love
et mille tenderesse [sic] (ha ha)
M
[Collection Columbia University Library]
TO ANDREW LYNDON
Post Restante
Taormina, Sicily
[4 April 1950]
Darling baby—
We were 21 days at sea! and mostly with everyone talking Norwegian and Turkish, oh it was fierce, little lamb, but we have somehow survived the agony of the voyage, which really was not an agony but rather pleasant, and yesterday arrived in Taormina: we think we like it, it is almost too spectacular, every where a bella vista, but it will take a few days to tell. This morning, we are off villa hunting. Gide is living here. He sits in the barbershop all afternoon having his face continually lathered by little boys of eight and nine: but what else can you do at his age? Donny is here too; we were very surprised to find him sitting in the piazza; he is in quite a bad mood because his book has not been reviewed or advertised: is this true? What about Newton’s book? I hope you have saved me some of the reviews. Darling, it was a joy to have your letter in Naples. I hope Phoebe doesn’t do anything rash, and I must write her immediately. Kelly has proved a most able little traveller … though we have had our moments.84 For instance, yesterday we were put off a train in Catania and had to wait in that Pittsburgh of Sicily five hours until a cattle car loaded with peasants allowed us to board it with our beast. All Italians seemed to be scared shitless by Kelly’s dear little face. I have written a short story that I want so for you and Phoebe to read; it is called A DIAMOND GUITAR. I’m really very enthusiastic about it. Honey, I will write a real letter in the next few days. Love to Harold
and much much love dearest
t
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO WILLIAM GOYEN
Fontana Vecchia
Taormina, Sicily
April 5 1950
Bill dear,
It was a long but amusing trip; we were 21 days at sea and, though most of the other passengers were Turkish and began each sentence with We Turks (think soandso), I enjoyed it: came away feeling much healthier. Also, I wrote a new story, one that I like; it is called A DIAMOND GUITAR, and I wish so much that you could read it: there are so few people that one wants to have read one’s work.85 But dear Bill, I hope that you are in more relaxing circumstances; I long to hear that you are settled and working. And now that I am far away, you please will remember to send me that name you would not disclose previously: does it still proceed?
Sicily is far more spectacular than I had imagined. Greener, steeper, sweeter. I love it. In the cafes the men dance together to the music of guitars, children with sheep sit in fields of wildflowers playing pan-like flutes.
We have got the two top floors of a lovely old villa about twenty minutes walk from the town. It has a view of the mountains and the snow and the sea. It is terribly quiet and pretty and Cheap and we want awfully for you to come here. Why don’t you, Bill?
Gide is living here. He goes to the barbershop in town and sits there all afternoon having his face lathered by little boys of ten and twelve. He is a nice vague old man.
On the other hand, I sometimes write long letters. But we have walked over ten miles today, and I am plumb tuckered out. I hope you will come here; if not that, do write me, for We Turks miss you.
mille tenderesse [sic]
t’amo
T
[Collection Unknown]
TO JOHN MALCOLM BRINNIN
Fontana Vecchia
Taormina, Sicily
April 7, 1950
Honeybunch,
You were very dear to come that last night, and I felt quite guilty about it, especially because I would [have] liked to have seen you alone. The voyage was extraordinary; it lasted twenty one days, and the other passengers were mostly Turkish, some of whom prefaced all remarks with We Turks (think soandso); consequently, I am rather delirious to be here on the steep but solid earth of Taormina: it is almost appallingly beautiful, an unearthly spring. You would like it here, I know, and we have found the loveliest little villa; it is about a twenty minute walk from town, there is a garden, two bedrooms, two terraces, an enormous salon, kitchen, bath, and an aeroplane view of the mountains, snow, sea. It costs fifty a month, which is quite cheap don’t you think? Really, you ought to come here. [André] Gide is living here; he sits in the barbershop all afternoon having his face lathered by little boys of ten and twelve; there is rather a scandal, not because he likes to take little boys home with him, but because he only pays them two hundred lire (20¢). Otherwise, the scene is blessedly free of literary folk, or folk of any kind. Write me, lamb, for We Turks miss you; and much much love
t
[Collection University of Delaware Library]
TO WILLIAM GOYEN
Fontana Vecchia
Taormina, Sicily
April 12, 1950
Bill dear,
I hate it that you should be living in this really depraved sounding place: to think that you will be there until the middle of June, however I forbid you to move into the mass of brownstone on Sixty-fifth. Actually, you must come here … if only because you can live pleasantly for so very little. If you wanted great privacy we can find you a little apartment for, say, twenty dollars a month. And you could eat with us often as not. Our house is a dream. The water is divine, we go swimming and boating every afternoon. The town is lovely, the people divine, the food heaven. And it would all cost you about fifty dollars a month. What more do you want?
I work in the mornings, and read in the evenings. Did you see The Lady’s Not For Burning.86 I thought in London perhaps you might have. I’ve been reading it, and some of it seems to me very beautiful. I long for Bob [Linscott] to send me your book; do please remind him that he is supposed to. Night is the only time to work in New York; I used to work at about the same hours you are using. Everything one writes at night seems to have a rather fevered quality.
Do tell me, why did life in Mt Kisco become too complicated? And when, and how, did Horan go to Egypt.87 It does seem a queer choice. I understand that Carson is not going to Ireland after all; is this true?
We have a little girl working for us; she is charming, very quick, and a reasonably good cook; but she kept wearing the same old pinned-together dress day after day,
