by John Waters
Clifford then relieved the parents of the horse, no longer a toy but a messenger from their boy wherever he might be, and who was looking down on them.
ADELINE
Master Bruno, in his extreme old age, was accustomed to going to a little frequented tavern called La Fonda near the East River. There, he could relax from his work as a famous artist, in which he was still engaged despite his many years. No one spoke English at La Fonda. Bruno’s ignorance of foreign tongues, together with his appreciation that the patrons were unable to recognize him as the famous artist that he really was, helped him to relax there.
But what drew him to La Fonda even more was the presence of a very young girl whom everyone called Adeline. In all his years as an artist, he had never glimpsed any one of such unsurpassed or unspoiled beauty. Her crown of golden hair was her chief appeal to Bruno. It made him think of the sun at noon in all its unblemished glory, only rivaled by her cerulean eyes of equal splendor.
Bruno tried not to draw attention to his rapture on the part of the coarse and rough and ready patrons of the lowest strata of society. But he soon was made aware that the often drunk and purblind patrons had only attention for their own coarse grained mates who were unaware both of his existence and that of Adeline. Bruno could therefore feast his eyes on her without drawing any others’ attention to his rapture.
ADELINE WAS THUS from then on not a young kitchen menial but the reincarnation of a goddess forced by Jupiter to reside on earth for some disobedience to the god himself. Coming home then to his ramshackled living quarters for Bruno’s genius though recognized in some quarters had not secured for him a living standard much unlike that which Adeline herself had been obliged to live in as a peeler of potatoes and scrubber of the worn linoleum floors of the tavern.
At home Bruno would make one drawing after another of the goddess so that he felt they made his home shine also like the noon sun. Bruno’s detractors and the money men of the art world while conceding that the old man has true genius, nevertheless pointed out that genius or no, he had limited himself to only one subject—that of youthful feminine pulchritude.
BUT THEN BRUNO’S sketches of Adeline in his cramped little atelier came to an impasse. He needed a live model, and could no longer rely on his memory of Adeline. But would so young a girl be persuaded to come to his own premises. He had overheard one evening that the owner did speak a little English, and Bruno could speak a garble of his own Italian and Spanish.
One evening, when the owner appeared more free from his duties, Bruno inquired of him how old Adeline was. The owner fidgeted a little whether from his lack of English or his fear of something else. Finally Bruno thought he heard the word FOURTEEN. But owing to his own partial deafness this ended his colloquy for a while. If she was that young would he be able to invite her to his studio? But when the owner had said fourteen Bruno heard him say quite plainly, despite his being hard of hearing, that he is fourteen.
A few days later Bruno got his courage up again and spoke to the owner in a mixture of Spanish and English.
“Would you permit Adeline to come to my studio sir?” and Bruno showed him some of his sketches. The owner looked very pleased and shook the artist’s hand.
“Any time you wish him to come to your studio will be alright—any day after he is through here.”
Again Bruno heard Adeline referred to as he but he had heard the owner, in times past, mix up pronouns when he tried to speak English and Bruno’s own deafness perhaps was also a factor. But permission was then granted. The divine Adeline was coming to his studio and the owner received some money for the permission to be granted.
“And Adeline’s age?” Bruno said again.
“Forget that,” said the owner as he counted the money again. “You are a gentleman and a famous artist.”
And so Adeline was to come to his studio despite her fourteen years, and Bruno seemed to hear again his fourteen years—Bruno was sure it was because of his being hard of hearing.
ADELINE’S ARRIVAL AT the studio brought a certain disappointment to the artist. She did not look so pretty in the sallow light of his room. And to his further chagrin he thought he saw a faint appearance of what looked like hair about her lips but he blamed it on his sight in the poor light. Her golden hair and cerulean eyes were still unspoiled to his own eyes.
“So you are going to pose for me,” Bruno began. But Adeline had caught sight of his drawings and sketches of his past models. She took down several of the sketches. Her glance widened as she noted the models, young women, had posed without any clothing at all. She looked up then and the artist’s and the girl’s eyes met briefly. But Adeline began to speak. Bruno was troubled now at hearing her voice which seemed to be hoarse and broken like that of a youngster whose voice is changing.
“And I am to not wear clothes.” Again Bruno was caught at Adeline suddenly able to speak to him in his own language.
Waiting until he could think of what to say, Bruno now more than Adeline seemed to be speaking as if in a language not his own.
“Only if you wish to,” he got out. “Clothing or no, Adeline.”
The name ADELINE as he spoke seemed at once to puzzle her as if the artist had mentioned someone whose name was virtually unknown to either of them. She began then removing her little outer garment. He turned away for a moment to put on stronger glasses and, his fingers trembling, he had difficulty adjusting the glasses.
But when he turned to look at her, a low sort of cry escaped his lips. The person standing before him seemed someone he had never seen before. He stepped back and held on to the chair by the large half open bed.
“What is it, sir?” She advanced alarmed toward him. Bruno gave one shaking stare after another. A young man, not Adeline, was gazing at him with a face troubled and that of a young man. Trembling, Bruno motioned to her to bring an unopened bottle of brandy. Adeline’s training at the tavern came in handy. She had seen many others who had got unsteady or were even ill. Adeline or rather the now young man standing before Bruno helped him to several swallows of the brandy from the bottle itself.
Bruno was getting back his composure, only slowly.
“You are not angry?” the young boy now spoke.
“Not angry.” Bruno said. “But,” he went on, “you are not Adeline then.”
The person who was no longer Adeline replied that he was also a young man, or at least Bruno thought the old Adeline said this.
Probably neither Bruno nor the young boy who had replaced Adeline would have been able to explain what happened next. Bruno later explained to his friends that the young man who was once Adeline saw that the artist needed someone to help him over his spell of dizziness and virtual helplessness.
LATER, AWAKING FROM a deep slumber Bruno saw oddly enough, not to his surprise, that the young man had removed the artist’s outer clothing and then tucked him into the huge bed, a bed which could have found room for four people instead of the artist and the young man. They had slept together the whole night, Bruno realized as the first streak of daylight came into the room. And so, as if by something like magic, there was no Adeline but a young man who was a valuable house mate and something of both a nurse and even a physician.
ADELINE NEVER RETURNED to the tavern. The new model for Bruno became one he had never dreamed of using as a model. When Bruno had recovered his strength, he was engaged in literally hundreds of sketches of a nude young man with a fair share of muscles but who could also boast a crown of golden hair, now trimmed a bit, but still capable of flooding where he stood with a radiance like the noon sun.
IN HIS ART Adeline was now both a young girl and a young man and this became for Bruno his final and greatest creation, the two were one and the one was two. The one was two the two were one.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
PUBLISHED STORIES BY JAMES PURDY
“A Good Woman.” Creative Writing, (January–February 1939).
“You Reach For Your Hat.” Prairie Schooner 20 (Spring 1
946).
“The Sound of Talking.” Black Mountain Review 5 (Summer 1955).
Don’t Call Me by My Right Name and Other Stories. Published by Osborn Andreas, Andreas Foundation, Chicago. New York: private author-published imprint with William-Frederick Press, 1956.)
“A Good Woman,” “Cutting Edge,” “Don’t Call Me by My Right Name,” “Eventide,” “Man and Wife,” “Plan Now to Attend,” “Sound of Talking,” “Why Can’t They Tell You Why?,” “You Reach for Your Hat”
63: Dream Palace: A Novella. published by Jorma Sjoblom, Allentown, PA. New York: private author-published imprint with William-Frederick Press, 1956.
“You Reach for Your Hat,” Mademoiselle 44 (March 1957), published as “You Reach for Your Wraps.”
63: Dream Palace: A Novella and Nine Stories, London: Victor Gollancz, 1957. (James Purdy’s first commercially published book.)
“63: Dream Palace,” “A Good Woman,” “Cutting Edge,” “Don’t Call Me by My Right Name,” “Eventide,” “Man and Wife,” “Plan Now to Attend,” “Sound of Talking,” “Why Can’t They Tell You Why?,” “You Reach for Your Hat”
Color of Darkness: Eleven Stories and a Novella. New York: New Directions, 1957.
“63: Dream Palace” Color of Darkness,” “A Good Woman,” “Cutting Edge,” “Don’t Call Me by My Right Name,” “Eventide,” “Man and Wife,” “Plan Now to Attend,” “Sound of Talking,” “Why Can’t They Tell You Why?,” “You May Safely Gaze,” “You Reach for Your Hat”
“About Jessie Mae.” The New Yorker 33 (May 25, 1957).
“Cutting Edge.” Evergreen Review 1, no. 1 (1957).
“Night and Day.” Esquire 50 (July 1958).
“The Lesson.” Texas Quarterly 1 (Winter 1958).
“Encore.” Commentary 27 (March 13, 1959).
“Mrs. Benson.” Commentary 28 (October 19, 1959).
“Everything Under the Sun.” Partisan Review (Summer—July 27, 1959).
“Daddy Wolf.” New World Writing 17 (1960).
“Goodnight, Sweetheart.” Esquire 54 (October 1960).
“Sermon.” New Directions in Poetry and Prose 17 (1961).
Children Is All (ten stories and two plays). New York: New Directions, 1962.
Short stories: “About Jessie Mae,” “Daddy Wolf,” “Encore,” “Everything Under the Sun,” “Goodnight, Sweetheart,” “Home by Dark,” “Mrs. Benson,” “Night and Day,” “Sermon,” “The Lesson”
Children Is All (ten stories and two plays). London: Secker & Warburg, 1963.
Short stories: “About Jessie Mae,” “Daddy Wolf,” “Encore,” “Everything Under the Sun,” “Goodnight, Sweetheart,” “Home by Dark,” “Mrs. Benson,” “Night and Day,” “Sermon,” “The Lesson”
“Scrap of Paper.” Evergreen Review 11, no. 48 (August 1, 1967).
“Mr. Evening.” Harper’s Bazaar 101 (September 1968).
“On the Rebound.” New Directions in Prose and Poetry 23 (1971).
“Lily’s Party.” Antaeus 13–14, Special Fiction Issue (Spring–Summer 1974).
“Summer Tidings.” Esquire 82 (December 1974).
“Some of These Days.” New Directions in Prose and Poetry 3 (1975).
“Short Papa.” Antioch Review 34 (Summer 1976).
“Ruthanna Elder.” Barataria 4 (Fall 1977).
A Day After the Fair: A Collection of Plays and Short Stories. San Francisco: Five Trees Press (private author-published imprint with Note of Hand, NY, 1977).
Short stories: “Lily’s Party,” “Mr. Evening,” “On the Rebound,” “Scrap of Paper,” “Short Papa,” “Some of These Days,” “Summer Tidings”
“How I Became a Shadow.” New Directions in Prose and Poetry 36 (1978).
“Summer Tidings.” Granta 1: (New American Writing) (Fall 1979).
“Sleep Tight.” Antioch Review 37 (Winter 1979).
“Rapture.” Second Coming 10, no. 1–2 (1981).
“Mud Toe the Cannibal.” Bomb 7 (1983).
“Dawn.” Christopher Street 8, no. 1 (February 4, 1984).
“The Candles of Your Eyes.” Christopher Street 8, no. 5 (June 5, 1984).
“Rapture.” New Directions in Prose and Poetry 50 (1986).
“In This Corner . . .” Christopher Street 9, no. 7 (1986).
The Candles of Your Eyes, and Thirteen Other Stories. New York: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1987.
“Dawn,” “How I Became a Shadow”, “Lily’s Pary”, “Mr. Evening,” “Mud Toe the Cannibal,” “On the Rebound,” “Rapture,” “Ruthanna Elder,” “Scrap of Paper,” “Short Papa,” “Sleep Tight,” “Some of These Days,” “Summer Tidings,” “The Candles of Your Eyes”
The Candles of Your Eyes and Thirteen Other Stories. London: Peter Owen, 1988.
“Dawn,” “How I Became a Shadow,” “Lily’s Party,” “Mr. Evening,” “Mud Toe the Cannibal,” “On the Rebound,” “Rapture,” “Ruthanna Elder,” “Scrap of Paper,” “Short Papa,” “Sleep Tight,” “Some of These Days,” “Summer Tidings,” “The Candles of Your Eyes”
63: Dream Palace: Selected Stories 1956–1987. Santa Rosa, CA: Black Sparrow Press, 1991.
“Color of Darkness,” “You May Safely Gaze,” “Don’t Call Me by My Right Name,” “Eventide,” “Why Can’t They Tell You Why?,” “Man and Wife,” “You Reach for Your Hat,” “A Good Woman,” “Plan Now to Attend,” “Sound of Talking,” “Cutting Edge,” “63: Dream Palace,” “Daddy Wolf,” “Home by Dark,” “About Jessie Mae,” “The Lesson,” “Encore,” “Night and Day,” “Mrs. Benson,” “Sermon,” “Everything Under The Sun,” “Goodnight, Sweetheart,” “Some of These Days,” “Mr. Evening,” “Lily’s Party,” “On the Rebound,” “In This Corner . . .”
“Kitty Blue.” Conjunctions 18 (1992).
“Bonnie.” “Village Voice Literary Supplement 38 (February 9, 1993).
“Gertrude’s Hand.” Antioch Review 51, no. 3: Annual Fiction Issue (Summer 1993).
“The White Blackbird.” Conjunctions 20 (1993).
“Brawith.” Antioch Review 52, no. 2 (Spring 1994).
“Geraldine”. Open City 6 (1998).
Moe’s Villa & Other Stories. London: Arcadia 2000.
“A Little Variety, Please,” “Bonnie,” “Brawith,” “Easy Street,” “Entre Dos Luces,” “Geraldine,” “Gertrude’s Hand,” “Kitty Blue,” “Moe’s Villa,” “No Stranger to Luke,” “Reaching Rose,” “The White Blackbird”
“No Stranger to Luke.” Antioch Review 59, no. 1 (Winter 2001).
Moe’s Villa & Other Stories. New York: Carroll & Graf, 2004.
“A Little Variety, Please,” “Bonnie,” “Brawith,” “Easy Street,” “Entre Dos Luces,” “Geraldine,” “Gertrude’s Hand,” “Kitty Blue,” “Moe’s Villa,” “No Stranger to Luke,” “Reaching Rose,” “The White Blackbird”
UNPUBLISHED STORIES BY JAMES PURDY
“A Chance to Say No.” (circa 1935–1939 during the author’s time as a student at Bowling Green College)
“Dr. Dieck & Company.” (composed in 1986, but reflective of the author’s “lost decade” while teaching at Lawrence College in Appleton, Wisconson, 1946–1955)
“That’s About Enough out of You.” (circa 1955)
“Talk About Yesterday.” (circa 1956)
“The Pupil.” (1956)
“Vera’s Story.” (November 1999–February 2000)
“Adeline.” (October 2003)
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A great deal of effort went into preparing this collection, from researching background information and devising an accurate dating process to unearthing archival material and determining its chronological arrangement and presentation.
I would like to extend my warmest gratitude to the people who have supported and aided me in the process of selecting, researching, and editing this collection, including Robert Weil and William Menaker at W. W. Norton & Company/Liveright; Pamela Malpas and Michelle Montalbano at Harold Ober Associates
; John Wronoski and Chris Shultz at Lame Duck Books; the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library at Yale, Nancy Kuhl, Tim Young, and the reading room staff; the Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas at Austin, Andrew Gasky.
Additional assistance and creative support was provided by Nathaniel Siegel, Jason Hale, and Ian McGrady.
Scholar Michael Snyder, PhD, helped to set forth correct and long-missing biographical information, permitting an understanding of Purdy’s creative process and development in the context of his full body of work.
Among those whose research assisted us were Paul W. Miller, PhD; Marie-Claude Profit; Parker Sams, retired editor of the Findlay Courier; Martin Kich, PhD; and Joseph T. Skerrett Jr., PhD.
Finally, Dennis Moore, who formed the James Purdy Society; Todd B. Vance; Bill Troop, a close friend and colleague of James Purdy; Cory MacLauchlin, whose article “Genius in Exile” appeared in Vice; J. W. McCormack, whose reflections on James Purdy appeared in Tin House;and John Waters, who provided the introduction to the collection, are thanked for their contribution to the process of reintroducing Purdy to a new readership.
—John Uecker, literary executor for James Purdy
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2013 by John Uecker
Introduction copyright © 2013 by John Waters
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