In case you ever want to chat about anything my number up here is 617-693-2535. I intend to be here at least until mid-September and probably past that.
Keep pulling in those big fish and stay in touch.
All best
Bill
TO PETER MATTHIESSEN
October 18, 1986 Roxbury, CT
Dear Peter,
I had never noticed, until I saw the extraordinary jug handles in the David Levine cartoon in NYRB, what gigantic ears you have but this does not lessen my belated appreciation of Men’s Lives. I was too fogged up to read it when the galleys arrived last winter, and too dilatory this summer, but I read it recently and think it’s just splendid. Some of the best stuff I’ve ever read on men of the sea, laboring men, and I’m sure it’ll become both a classic and a monument to the folk you’ve so eloquently written about. A truly fine book.
I also thought the Indian presentation the other night at PEN was an eye-opener and very successful in its general appeal and informativeness. How did the deposition go?
Let me know if I can help (though I don’t know how) and keep in touch.
Ever,
Porter
TO WILLIE MORRIS
May 15, 1987 Roxbury, CT
Dear Willie:
I’m enclosing a couple of articles from The N.Y. Times for your perusal. One of them, as you can tell, is by yours truly—it came out last Sunday.*vvv The other, by Tom Wicker, is about a Mississippi native and is self-explanatory. Joe Ingle, who is the minister who runs the Southern Coalition in Nashville (and whom I visited on my way down to Oxford) asked me to bring the plight of Johnson to your attention in the hope that you might be able to pull a string or two to help save this poor fellow. It really does appear that this is a case of another truly innocent victim. I wonder if that friend of yours in the legislature, about to become the next Speaker, might pull enough weight to at least get the governor to delay the execution so that a full examination of Johnson’s case might be made. It seems to me that it would be horrible if in this instance an innocent man should be gassed at Parchman.
Speaking of Parchman, I wanted to chime in and endorse the feelings in your recent letter that that trip we took (and indeed the whole visit to Miss.) was one of the most memorable events in recent years. Tom had the time of his life. He is of course one of your greatest fans among a legion of fans, and keeps talking about the trip as one of the greatest experiences he’s ever had … Furthermore, I was absolutely bewitched by your adorable Jane Rule. That picnic she threw in the Charleston cemetery, at the foot of the grave of Mr. James Crow, was one of the paramount picnics in a lifetime of grand picnics; please tell her for me how much I admired that wonderful provender, as well as admiring her, for herself, boundlessly.
I’m greatly looking forward to Taps. I don’t really know what to say about the Korean War, except perhaps that it remains one of the most completely forgotten military conflicts in Western history. It would be a terrible thing to die in any way but most wars leave at least a mark on history. Korea left no mark. To have died in that war would have been to perish in total oblivion. I suppose there was some merit in America helping save the South Koreans from the Kommunist Menace—but why always Americans, thousands of us?
I’ve distributed the Elvis T-shirts from Graceland to various girls. They were more effective than caviar or Rolex watches.
Stay in touch and thanks again for a glorious visit.
Your ole buddy,
Stingo
P.S. I greatly appreciated the note from Gov. Winter—an admirable man whose fame still spreads far and wide in Yankeeland.
TO CHARLES SULLIVAN
August 1, 1987 Vineyard Haven, MA
Dear Charlie:
I’ve been intending to write you—about, among other things, getting you to look out for the August Esquire—but realized I’d left your address in Roxbury. I would have telephoned you but figured (obviously incorrectly) that you had already fled the St. Pete heat. Anyway, I’m glad you got the Esquire with my reasonably healthy-looking mug on the cover.*www It was a pretty good issue to appear in, since I gather this one has received quite a bit of attention and has sold out in many places.
I really haven’t abandoned the USMC novel, in fact I’ve returned to a re-working of it along the line you and I have discussed (Saipan, the zealot officer bearing down on a suspected “radical” enlisted man, etc.) so it may be that what I’ve got now is two novels going simultaneously (like Balzac and Tolstoy, not bad people to emulate). At any rate, the long piece you read in Esquire is something that can stand alone as a “novella” or short novel whether or not I decide to extend it into something longer, which I’ll probably do.
The weather up here has been marvelous, despite trouble with the crops; the driest June & July since 1946. Lots of people in and out, as usual, lots of socializing but reasonably good fun.
The president of France has just awarded me the Legion of Honor. There’ll be a ceremony in N.Y. or Washington in the fall. That little red ribbon may be the only thing I’d rather wear than the Congressional Medal.
I imagine we’ll be here through most of September. I hope you all can drop by for a visit on your way to N.H., or while there. Stay in touch.
Your Well and Reasoned Friend
Bill
TO WILLIE MORRIS
October 15, 1987 Roxbury, CT
Dear Willie,
I thought your piece on Faulkner’s Mississippi was just great.*xxx You captured so much both of the beloved state and the man himself. I am eagerly looking forward to the Geographic with the pictures—I know it will be sumptuous.
Also, please tell Richard Ford how grateful I am for the book of stories.*yyy I’d read several already in Esquire but both reacquaintance with the old and work I’d never read made for wonderful reading. Thank you for the present. I hope we can all get together someday before long.
Because of the long journey I’m not going to press you to come to my Legion of Honor ceremony but it would be splendid if you could make it. Afterwards I’ve hired a Frog restaurant in N.Y. where we will be having catfish coquilles, chitlins Lyonnaisse, grits Bercy and Brunswick County (Va) Scuppernong 1972.
À bientôt I hope
Stingo
TO GAVIN COLOGNE-BROOKES*zzz
October 20, 1987 Roxbury, CT
Dear Mr. Cologne-Brookes,
I would welcome the opportunity of meeting you and talking to you when you come here next spring and I hope we could have a fruitful and enjoyable get-together. At the moment I know only that I must be in California on March 29 through April 1st or 2nd but outside of that I expect to be here in the early spring and would welcome you. I don’t know precisely what I can contribute to your thesis but I could try to do my best.
You must feel very odd, “the only Briton” writing about my work. I don’t feel quite like Edmund Wilson, who called your countrymen “the despicable English” and really had quite a vitriolic animus about Britain, but it is true that I’ve felt no warmth about England over the years and plainly the feeling is mutual. Nothing at all personal, as we say, nor do I mean to be condescending when I say that not some, but many, of my good friends are English. But it is remarkable how some countries will take certain writers to their hearts and virtually ignore others. The best example, in my own case, can be seen in a list of books that was sent to me some time ago—a list I imagine you’ve heard about: the 20 “best novels” by living Americans, drawn up by some British book association or other. It contained novels by every single U.S. writer I consider my peer (Roth, Updike, Bellow, Mailer, etc. etc.) and quite a few novels by writers I would completely disdain—but not one of my works was on the list. Strangely, when I beheld this list I was not in the slightest bit surprised. Totally aside from the absurdity of such lists (noblest dogs, best soaps, worst diseases) I had, through long experience with the British reaction to my work, always expected to be ignored and this list was a simple validation.
Sincerely,
William Styron
P.S. Jim West wrote very warmly and admiringly about you.
TO LOUIS D. RUBIN, JR.
November 16, 1987 Roxbury, CT
Dear Louis,
I’d be pleased and honored to be a founding member of the Fellowship of Southern Writers and I thank you for inviting me.*AAA I had a few qualms at first, since I have a sneaking suspicion (perhaps unfounded in truth) that such of your editorial and critical founders as Messrs. Sullivan and Simpson*BBB have a rather tepid view of my work, and I thought that I might not feel terribly comfortable being associated with them (or vice versa). But since you say “all of us” want me in the group I take this as an assurance and will put my qualms at rest. The group sounds as if it might have fruitful activities in the future and that would be fine with me. You are certainly correct in your assumption that I would not like to get connected with some self-conscious new Agrarian movement, a kind of Southern Mafia whose aims would certainly not be in accord with what I would feel to be a strong and meaningful literature. But you make it clear that the fellowship has more intelligent goals, so count me in. As for suggestions regarding membership, there instantly come to my mind Reynolds Price and Willie Morris but I’m sure you all have considered these worthy gents already.*CCC
I have followed the progress of Algonquin Books with great pleasure, and have seen the name crop up in all sorts of nice places. You are to be congratulated for bringing such inventiveness and vitality to this good venture. I’ve read more than a few of your productions, and had a special response to Hopkins’ One Bugle No Drums because of my brief but intense connection with the Korean War.*DDD It was an exceptionally fine memoir. All of your books, incidentally, are beautifully turned out.
The enclosed clippings explain themselves. I thought you might like to see them. There is one (probably intentional) inaccuracy in the article from Mississippi, viz., Henry Kissinger was definitely not present.*EEE
Faithfully,
Bill S.
TO WILLIE MORRIS
November 24, 1987 Roxbury, CT
Dear Willie,
Following is the passage I believe you wanted from my speech about Jim:
“I never knew an artist whose style was so inimitably and faithfully a reflection of himself. Let me give you an example which is surely going to disturb the liberals who hear these words. You were not a bigot, but take the word ‘nigger,’ which I often heard you use in conversation with a certain casual and disarming precision that was almost breathtaking. You were the only man I ever knew upon whose lips that word had no connotation of ugliness or animosity but instead was uttered with a kind of large, innocent, open sense of fraternity, and I often wondered at this, at how it would be, until I realized that in that word, or at least in the way you spoke it, there were profound echoes of your great predecessors Sherwood Anderson and Dreiser and, above all, Mark Twain—whose peculiarly border sensitivity, part Southern, part Midwestern, but achingly American, you inherited in full measure.”*FFF
I hope this will be of help. I can get you the whole speech if you need it but this is, I believe, the pertinent passage.
Willie, your visitation was wonderful and Mayor Leslie’s speech was superb. Everyone felt that your presentation was the highlight of the evening and I am so grateful to you for turning up in Sodom and making the event a splendid one. Several people have requested copies of the “letter” and I have had quite a few Xeroxes from that issue of the Oxford newspaper. I am enjoying wearing my pretty little rosette in my lapel, just as Pop Bill enjoyed his. It really is, somehow, the supreme honor. I saw Norman Mailer at a party and he asked me if I thought it would help me get laid in Paris. I told him that you couldn’t get laid in Paris if you were an American until they named an avenue after you. He was plainly just jealous.
I’m sending this off to you rapidly, as per your instructions. Hang loose and give my best to all.
Ever,
Stingo
TO LOUIS D. RUBIN, JR.
November 25, 1987 Roxbury, CT
Dear Louis,
I very much appreciate the Woodson book.*GGG It is beautiful and much of his work does, of course, bring back the atmosphere of the Virginia where I grew up.
I hope I didn’t sound too querulous about the critics who are on board. You’re absolutely right about a general lack of unanimity in any group regarding a person’s work, and that’s the way it should be, really. I guess I just can’t shake my prickly feeling about most critics, especially professional Southern ones and their often insistent chauvinism. But I’m happy to be in the group.
I neglected to tell you, incidentally, how much I approved of your own critical demolition of Stephen Oates’ bio. of Faulkner.*HHH My reasons are threefold. First and most importantly, the book is the mawkish and appalling disgrace you said it was. Secondly, Oates wrote a biography of Nat Turner after my book appeared; all well and good except that Oates has taken every opportunity he can to denounce me (usually in interviews) and in fact took a nasty swipe at me in the introduction to his own book.*III Thirdly, he is a plagiarist. On the last page of his Faulkner book, he quoted a whole passage of my description of Faulkner’s funeral without attribution (he left out direct quotes for most of the passage)—something I was going to call to the attention of his publisher but somehow forgot. Thanks for doing such a well-deserved chop-up of this pious fraud.*JJJ
Yrs,
Bill
TO PRINCE SADRUDDIN AGA KHAN
December 12, 1987 Roxbury, CT
Dear Sadri & Katy,
Like the bad penny, Kosinski always turns up—as you can see, at the moment of my divine apotheosis. I really thought that Kosinski should have gotten the Légion d’Honneur, not I—maybe he will, maybe I’ll use my influence with Mitterrand to get him one, and at least a “Chevalier” for Kiki.
Anyway, the enclosed clippings will describe the goings-on last November when I finally entered heaven.
I hope to be able to come and pay you dear people a visit before too long. Rose and I both miss you very much.
The Right Wing is in panicky despair over the Summit and its aftermath. No Evil Empire to hate! I was invited to the Soviet Embassy to meet Gorbachev and sat listening to him at a table where my companions were—get this—Joyce Carol Oates, Norman Mailer, Billy Graham, Paul Newman and Henry Kissinger. Could you conceive of an odder group of table-fellows?
Stay in touch.
Much love,
Bill
TO LEWIS STEEL*KKK
December 31, 1987 Roxbury, CT
Dear Lew, I appreciate your kind comments about Sophie’s Choice. You know, in the end (if we are honest with ourselves) we writers write at least in part to create some ultimate effect upon a reader—especially readers whose minds and sensibilities we respect—and so it is enormously gratifying to receive a response like yours. It makes so much of the sweat and effort worthwhile. I’ll never forget our courtroom days—it’s a vivid part of my memory—and it was good hearing from you and to feel that same valuable continuity remains unbroken.
Faithfully, Bill S.
P.S. Did you know that Ida Schenkman, that bailbondswoman, tried to cheat me out of $10,000? After three years I got it back.
TO WILLIE MORRIS
January 6, 1988 Roxbury, CT
Dear Willie, It looks as if Uncle Shelby has joined forces with Mike Thelwell
and Herbert Aptheker.*LLL The enclosed is from a review from the exceedingly dull George Garrett about an exceedingly dull 20-pound historical novel by someone named Thomas Flanagan. It’s bad enough that the darkies jumped me but a white Mississippi boy? I thought he knew better.
It was great hearing your Yuletide voice. I’ve heard fine things about your book and am eager to get a look.
I’m off to Nicaragua with Carlos Fuentes. If I don’t come back, remember that I loved America and the ideals for which she stands, also the United States Marine Corps, Duke University, and my dog Tashmoo, more than I could even express.
Your friend,
Stingo
TO PHILIP ROTH
March 4, 1988 Roxbury, CT
Dear Philip: You have your dwarf, I have Jerry Marcus. His weekly letter is enclosed.
He has been writing me a letter like this, at least once a week, for nearly 10 years. I almost never read them and always throw them away, because they are such a mess. I am his intellectual garbage pail. He writes me about anything that comes to his mind, books, movies, random thoughts, anything. He is an orthodox Jew, and teacher (substitute high school) in Long Island City. He is about 45, I think, and has terrible sex problems with his wife whom he hates. He is quite intelligent, really, but insane. He holds the N.Y. City Arm Wrestling championship. He has sent me his picture. He has the physique of a horse. I can’t get him off my back. He calls me on the phone a lot but I almost never let myself talk to him. He calls me Bill.
Selected Letters of William Styron Page 60