I’m afraid I shall have to abandon thoughts of London, and even Venice. It just isn’t fair to leave Jack to cope alone with all these lives and all this junk—even though he is willing.
Never fear, I shall not mention the diaries.370 And, though I perfectly understand your qualms, I think you will discover that the only persons truly offended (though many will pretend to be) are those not included: that has been my experience in reporting.
Write now. Let me know what to tell Nick. Love from all 5
T
P.S. Paddy and that gloomy Glenn finally left. No one here now except the painters.
[Collection St. John’s College, Cambridge University]
TO WILLIAM SHAWN
PAROS, Greece
September 29–1958
Dear Mr. Shawn—
All these island-months I have been intending to communicate; and now in a few days I am departing—sadly, for it has been the perfect working place and pleasant in other ways as well.
Speaking of work, you may recall, dimly, dimly, I am writing a piece presently entitled “A Daughter of the Russian Revolution.” By mid-July I had finished a version of it which I thought rather good, enough so that I nearly mailed it; but, reading it again and again, I realized that, solid as it seemed, it did not accelerate with the right rythmn [sic], and had to admit I’d shirked the job by not casting it in its proper form: it required a straight narrative line with backwards and sideways movement. Instead I’d used the easier episodic, anecdotal method; and it was successful—but my conscience, that unkind creature, kept hollering away. I thought: oh God, I just can’t do it again; but I knew I must, though most of August went by before I could face it. Well, I have been working on it since then. In the original draft, the better part of it concerned one evening: now I begin with that evening and, so to say, slide in and out of it. I hope you will like it; I do. I can’t say when it will be finished—a long-time commitment to write the text for Avedon’s book of photographs, due Jan 1st, is an irksome stumbling-stone. But I think it could be ready for February publication.
It was very saddening to hear of Wolcott Gibbs’ death, and I was most touched by Mr. White’s tribute.371 If it is true, as someone wrote me, that my old friend [Kenneth] Tynan is to be drama critic, the department is in lively hands.372
I hope this finds you well, and on your way to being a Brooklyn Heights house-holder. I will be back in New York October 23rd.
Best regards
Truman Capote
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO BENNETT CERF
Paros, Greece
Sept 29, 1958
Beloved B.—
I very much appreciated your cable; and how thoughtful of you to have sent it—I was so longing to see the book, and know when it would arrive.
Yesterday a policeman came and said the local chief would like to see me in his office; but wouldn’t say why, just that I should accompany him. It was all rather sinister, rather like something happening to Miss Golightly; I couldn’t think what I’d done. When we arrived at the head man’s office, I saw, sitting on his desk, an airmail package from Random House—the chief, and the local postman, were hovering over it as though it contained heroin. Which is why I’d been hauled there to open it in their presence: they wanted to be certain I was not importing heroin—or at least some article on which I should have to pay tax.
And so it was under this odd surveillance that I first saw the book. But nothing could detract from the pleasure it gave me; for it is beautiful, indeed it could hardly be more handsome; and, as always, I am grateful to have such tasteful and considerate publishers. Moreover, reading it through, I liked my own work—an event to be expected I suppose, still it does not always turn out that way. I have no quibble at all: except that I wish I’d proofed it myself, as there are several heartrending errors. Anyway, bless you and thank you, dearest Bennett; you are a good man.
And I hope your goodness will encompass what I have to tell next; for, to turn from the mood sublime to despair abysmal—I have not written Sindbad.373 Yes, that is what I said: no, I have not. I tried to; I wasted a week in July, wrote five pages and came to a standstill; I tried again last month. But, well, it bored me so: an unprofessional excuse, still I can make no other.
Of course I intend to return the advance; or it can be applied against either one of the two books on which I am working: a large novel, my magnum opus, a book about which I must be very silent, so as not [to] alarm my “sitters” and which I think will really arouse you when I outline it (only you must never mention it to a soul). The novel is called, “Answered Prayers”; and, if all goes well, I think it will answer mine. The other book, nonfiction, is called “A Daughter of the Russian Revolution, And Other Personalities”—I will explain about it when we meet. That is, if you’ll speak to me. I will be home Oct. 23rd. Love to the wife of my favorite editor; and love to him, too.
Truman
P.S. You need not answer this; I am leaving here in four days—sad, it has been a wonderful working-place.
[Collection Columbia University Library]
TO JOHN MALCOLM BRINNIN
[70 Willow Street]
[Brooklyn, N.Y.]
[October 1958]
Dearest M—
On the whole, I rather wish you would introduce me; it quietens an audience and focuses their attention—last year, at Chicago, they decided not to have an introduction, and I suppose it was “effective” but it took me ten minutes to get the audience in a listening mood. However, you do what you think best.374
I doubt that I will get in the Ritz, so will go gladly to the Copley—if they will have me.
I will take a morning train, arriving early afternoon; please don’t meet me. Will go to the hotel: will you come there at three? so that we can talk before going to this Advocate party? Speaking of which, would you ask them to invite a young friend of mine, a student at Radcliffe—
Frances Fitzgerald375
Briggs Hall
60 Linnean [Linnaean] St. Cambridge
I see in the paper you will be at Poetry Center Dec. 4th.376 Please give me a ring. Longing to see you—
Love
Truman
[Collection University of Delaware Library]
TO JOHN MALCOLM BRINNIN
[70 Willow Street]
[Brooklyn, New York]
[Early November 1958]
Malcolm dear—
A most beguiling letter, Mon cher; you do have charm.
If you are coming to New York soon, let me know; the telephone is TR 5-0388.
As for Frank Murphy and Mr. A. [Arvin], I think they sound perfectly mated, both enjoying, as they do, such immaculate insolence.
Please yes, reserve for me a Ritz room for December 14th: I will take a morning train; then we can have a drink, and go to the reading.
Blessings and love
T
P.S. This was written a week ago and just now getting off. I’ve changed plans and will be coming to Boston on the 13th. So make reservation for 13th and 14th.
Did you see Mr. Goyen’s “review” of my book in last Sunday’s Times? How is that for a piece of sour grapes bitchy?377 What a psychopath.
Hugs + kisses
T
[Collection University of Delaware Library]
TO WILLIAM SHAWN
[70 Willow Street]
[Brooklyn, N.Y.]
Saturday
[15 November 1958]
Dear Mr. Shawn,
After several days of trying to accept the matter as an incident of a kind that has happened to me many times, I find I cannot, and that I remain hurt and dismayed by the very contemptuous and gratuitously insulting manner in which my book was “brushed off” in the current issue of the magazine.378 I would not be upset by an unfavorable notice; however, I take my work seriously, I spent several years on these stories, and believe myself to deserve something more than a condescending paragraph that concludes with an unserious, an unjust and meaningless wisecrack the reviewer does not attempt to explain or substantiate. Truly, I am shocked that “The New Yorker”, with which after all I do have some association, would not only treat me in this style, but seemingly go out of their way to do it. Because the writer is anonymous, the voice of the magazine appears to be speaking, certainly condoning—which is very crippling to the pride and self-assurance I once had as a contributor.
With best personal regards,
Most sincerely
Truman Capote
[Collection New York Public Library]
TO KENNETH SILVERMAN
[Brooklyn, N.Y.]
[26 May 1959]
Dear Mr. Silverman,
This is not an answer to your very kind letter; it is merely an acknowledgment: I am in the midst of work that does not leave me the time to reply in the manner you deserve. For what it is worth (not much) I made a few remarks on the subject of style which appear in the book “Writers At Work.”379 Of course I am extremely sympathetic to your interest in the question: so few writers, much less readers, are, or even know that it exists. But there is really no practical help that one can offer: it is a matter of self-discovery, of one’s own conviction, or working with one’s own work: your style is what seems natural to you. It is a long process of discovery, one that never ends, I am still working at it, and will be as long as I live. So must you.380 With every good wish for your health as an artist, and otherwise—
Most sincerely,
T. Capote
[Collection Kenneth Silverman]
TO CECIL BEATON
[Clarks Island]
[Duxbury,
