Airmail (43 page)

Tomas

October 3, 1986

Dear Tomas,

Thank you for your letter and the four details about translations. To my surprise, I got a request the other day to translate some Psalms. This thing must be catchy, and we will lose our amateur status if this keeps up. What would our Sixties friends think of us? Mary is home with us this week and she is typing this letter to you (hello Tomas!) in her free time between work on her new detective novel. Biddy has gone to Barcelona to teach English to short dark-haired foreigners. Micah has been giving me instruction today on the new computer that a Bush grant in Minneapolis purchased for me. All of this enormous technological machinery—and I use it simply to run off eighty-five-syllable poems. I’ll enclose the first two poems I ran off. The dragon poem has 85 syllables, but I haven’t counted the other. I heard rumors that you’re going to join me on April 11th in San Francisco—that would be nice. The audiences in San Francisco are so enthusiastic that they believe they understand Swedish. This must be a common human failing, because I noticed that the people in Stockholm pretended that they understood English. Ruth is away today, teaching for the first time at a women’s Conference—She refuses to be pulled in by all those extroverts, however, so she is teaching dream interpretation woman by woman in a house with a smoky fireplace. Noah is at Harvard, just beginning, with the same teacher for Samuel Johnson that I had 37 years ago. Is there anything I can send you from those of us with such long life here in the land of milk and honey?

Love to you both,

Robert

June 28, 1987

Dear Tomas,

Summer has begun at last! I suppose you are out on the island, you and Monica. Last year almost at this exact time we were with you enjoying every moment of the visit. This year we are at home and it is probably better than being in the hands of those reckless Norwegians who are unable to add up figures. We also enjoyed tremendously our visit in San Francisco and the dinners at the various elegant cafes we managed to find. Let’s see what news there is of the family: Biddy has come back from Spain (hello! the typing mistakes can be put at my door). She will be here some of the summer and will help me (what???!!) on some of my literary tasks. [------] Mary called from San Francisco two days ago and reported that she had been accepted by Christ Church College at Oxford and has been offered a $10,000 loan without Interest by an eccentric old couple somewhere in the U.S. who are spending their declining years in such restful activity. Micah and I are going up fishing soon to the cabin. Ruth and I just spent a week on the Lake Superior shore, which is our mini ocean, and we had the most wonderful time for one week. I said: this is what Monica and Tomas have all summer. I finally heard by the way from those eccentrics who organized our reading in San Francisco. These street people always find a way to out-flank you somehow. I insisted on 50% of the gross for you and me to divide and I knew that that would amount to something around $1400. They got the money and I waited. I got a check for $920 with the explanation that since none of the other poets taking part in the conference were being paid for the seminars, etc., these poets amounting to 80 or so, they paid by giving free tickets to our conference. There you go, outflanked again...I therefore have $460 dollars here to send you in genuine American greenery and I will send one little piece of it now and then you will never know when the rest is going to come. You are to consider it as a gift from the American economy, fading fast.

What other news—Gary Snyder and Robert Creeley and I were taken into the American Academy of Arts and Letters in a stupendous Swedish-type ceremony last month, during which Jacques Barzun gave a stupefying lecture criticizing the grammar of art reviewers in small towns. All these small birds of course fell off their branches immediately upon hearing his harsh words. Afterward, Robert Creeley said to me, “Robert, we have about two years to change this place and if we don’t, we are in big trouble.” I said, “Forget it. We are in big trouble.” Franny Quinn from Boston came down for the ceremony and when we went out afterward, someone had stolen his car. By the way, I heard that someone went up to John Updike in an airport the other day and asked if he were Tomas Tranströmer (sorry, no...). I went into a rug shop in Santa Barbara and the rug merchant asked me if I were Steve Martin. I guess I had better quit. Next time I will send you a poem or two. Meanwhile, I send our love to you both.

Robert

Runmarö 13 July -87

Dear Robert,

wonderful to hear from you! Monica and I have been thinking often of you and your family, [------] and I called Monica at once to tell her the latest good news. She is in Västerås, had to leave the island yesterday because her vacation was over (most of her vacation was spent in the U.S.A. and Canada, in March–April...). Also we had a week in Italy in June, when the PETRARCH PRIZE was delivered again—this time to a novelist, Hermann Lenz, very nice man, whose problem is that he is not Siegfried Lenz, who is more well-known; they are both writing about life in Nazi Germany. So we spent a renaissance period of 3 days in the little city Asolo, n.w. of Venice. We drank some champagne, which makes you think very clearly—my head turned into an aquarium with goldfish who were mumbling sentences of Marcus Aurelius.

Here in Runmarö life is more simple, but luxurious too, as you know. When I am alone, I am supposed to CONCENTRATE, to write without the distractions of a happy family life. Today I had a very long nap.

Thank you for the 100 dollars,
¹
which is what 2 people of the enormous audience that was crying in front of us in San Francisco, paid for entrance. I did not expect the fellow who arranged the reading to pay anything at all. So I am pleased.

Thank you for the review too. Stratis Haviaras is the man who is responsible for the whole project—he told me to ask Robert Hass to edit the book. And Roger Skillings (p-town) is responsible too—he told Halpern that I had no publisher in the U.S. Perhaps Stratis will be the only person writing a review of the book. There is some logic in that. He started the book, and the book will end up in his arms.

Our next trip will be to Poland, in early October. Our ambassador in Warsaw, Örjan Berner, is a writer and he has sent me a xerox of a lot of my poetry that has been translated into Polish—I was shocked to see how much it was. So I go. Can you send your “selected” to me? I want to give it to a reliable Pole.

Love to Ruth from us both. And to you

Tomas

Aug 31, 87

Dear Tomas and Monica,

It is the end of summer! How awful! The children go somewhere else, the grownups stand around like bare trees...The poetry fanatics wake up from their long sleep, and want me to cut off bits of my hair again and give it to them. I would prefer they just gave me the money I need because I am such a good person, and can type so well. Your godson has gone out for football but hopefully will not play much...He must have some muscle type in him. I did too at his age, but my shame overcame it and I was afraid the girls would laugh at me. Noah has decided to take the term off before he goes back to the STRESS of Harvard and I’m very glad about that. He and I have had some sweet weeks here at Moose Lake painting the log cabin, and putting screens on, making walks and such things. Mary leaves for Oxford in a few weeks; she is wildly excited. Maybe she will come to visit you. Wouldn’t that be nice! Biddy’s boyfriend, Raffael, is going back to Spain this week. She is brooding about graduate school in linguistics, but the world seems to have no place exactly right for her. She is too healthy and too normal, that’s why. Ruth and I are going dancing more than we have for years, and carrying on with bicycles, and even got a sail boat this summer! She turned it over yesterday. We think of you two often and fondly. Will you be coming to Ollie North country this year? If so we will meet you somewhere! Of course we’d love to have you here or in Minneapolis where we’ll have an apartment...

Your friends,

     Robert & Ruth

Västerås 21 Dec -87

Dear Robert,

before it is too late for 1987 I have to write a few lines. Is everything well? [------] Is Minnesota surviving this winter?

About us. Monica has fought with the bureaucrats and superiors as usual and at last felt that she was “burned out” with the organization, not with the refugees. So she resigns in January 1988. The refugees say moving goodbyes. The next year she will probably return to child care center jobs. But first—in middle January—we will spend 2 weeks in Madeira together. An old (93-year-old) relative died and left Monica a small inheritance, so we are going to spend that.

I have to report 2 late autumn trips. First Poland. After 24 hours in Poland I had 1: performed a program at the University of Warsaw. 2: been robbed at the railway station at 6 o’clock in the morning, and 3: transformed myself into a black market currency dealer in Krakow. 3 is a consequence of 2.

What happened was that 2 gangsters emptied my pants pockets, where I had all my money (1,100 Swedish crowns and a lot of ZLOTY). I was squeezed between the two in a corridor, I did not understand what was going on—I thought
I
was squeezing
them,
two claustrophobic Poles trying to get out of the train in time. I felt sorry for them. But everything changed when we arrived to the hotel in Krakow and discovered that all my money had gone. There was only one thing to do. Monica had 200 Swedish crowns. We went out in the magnificent main square in Krakow and after 30 seconds a fishy character appeared and asked if we had anything to change. For the 200 Swedish crowns we got more zloty than the Scandinavian language professor got paid in one month.

After Poznan, Gdansky and Warsaw again, we returned to Sweden. I left 50% of my collected poems, translated into Polish, in Krakow, with a publishing house that is well thought of, but usually needs 2–5 years to print a manuscript. I don’t even know if they want to print the poems at all. But the translations were well-received by audiences (students)—the translator is a Solidarnosc-refugee in Stockholm.

Poland was a strong emotional experience. It was not a comfortable trip but memorable.

Comfortable was the latest European visit: Amsterdam and Münster (West German town with a huge Scandinavian Department).

Emma is well. She has a most agreeable boyfriend—we call him Stefan 2, because her previous boyfriend had the same name (Stefan 1). Paula is in Denpasar, Bali. She is making a tour around the world. She has survived Burma and Thailand. In April she will be in the U.S.A., like us, but we will not meet—perhaps on the plane home.

Right now I have a headache, one blue leg and a slight limp after badminton. Monica does not like my badminton playing, she thinks that I should choose a sport better suited to my age—like golf. But golf is for the ruling classes, we all know that...Well, I was elevated to a more dignified level in the eyes of the public 2 weeks ago when Nobel Prize winner Brodsky mentioned my name in a TV interview. People hurry to me in the streets “did you see the interview with hrmm what’s his name...the NOBEL PRIZE WINNER on TV—HE MENTIONED YOUR NAME!!”

It is now your turn to give me a report of recent events in the Bly surroundings. Give Ruth and other family members a hug and have a happy new year!

Best

    Tomas

1. I hope it does not come from Iran. I am pleased you did not send it to the Contras.
   

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January 10, 1988

Dear Tomas,

Thank you for your lovely letter. I have been writing an essay on the naive male and I think you must qualify for one with your heart-wrenching tale of being sorry for two Poles whom you unmercifully pressed against in the train corridor. They probably have a girlfriend now, working at the Swedish embassy getting the names and photographs of other Swedes coming to Poland. I, of course, am not naive. I don’t know where I get all the information I put into my lecture on naiveté. Let’s see what the news of the family is...

Biddy is in the room at this moment. She is studying psycholinguistics at the University of Minnesota. I expect the people in her department are eating the special Chomsky-chocolates perfected by the master. She likes very much to study the processes of learning, which that sort of linguistics emphasizes, and she is hoping to go to Chicago or Stanford next year. Micah is doing well at St. Paul Academy. He is turning out to be a good writer, with essays that are beautifully grounded in physical details. I wanted you to know that your godson has just bought his first car. It looks very different from anything I have ever owned. As you know, I tend to own middle-class middle-browed Toyotas with rust holes of forgetfulness here and there, but the other day Micah, determined to have a car that fits his nature, brought me out to a huge car lot north of town where he knew there was a brilliant, red, confident, bizarre Mazda RX7—positively Tibetan in its self-confidence, with eyelids that slowly open when needed and two bucket seats in the front to keep the rest of the family out. It has a rotary engine. It is actually a 1979, but in perfect shape; so he leaped far ahead of me at one stroke there. Of course the penalty is that he has to type for me to earn the money that he didn’t have at the moment. [------] Mary is at Oxford. Her address is simply Christ Church, Oxford, England. I’m sure she would love to have a note from you. She will be there another year and a half. I’m glad to have news of Emma and Paula. I don’t understand how the Swedes can afford to go around the world—maybe they don’t have Reagan as a president.

I’m sending you my schedule for April. You’ll see I am working only about 5 days in March, but 10 in April. I hope that we can get together. Please do reciprocate by sending me your April schedule. We’re all living in an apartment in Minneapolis now, at an address you will see on the outside of the envelope. Our telephone number is 612-339-1952. Please call us as soon as you get into the country, so we can arrange another dinner as in San Francisco, maybe with Ruth this time. She’s working hard on her novel, and of course, forced by that to think about her mother and grandmother. Probably that’s why you and I write poetry. Give a hug to Monica and get a new haircut now that you are famous through Mr. Brodsky.

Your friend, as always and as ever,

Robert

Västerås 19 March -88

Dear Robert,

here is my schedule. It is sad that we can only collect memories of each other—you in SF and I in Cambridge. My hosts are: in SF the Press Club, in L.A. Ross Shideler, in Tucson the Sheltons, in El Paso Leslie Ullmann, in Worcester Frannie Quinn, in Cambridge Diana Der-Hovanessian. Perhaps I will see some of your children in Cambridge. The reading is in the New England Poetry Club on April 22. (Tel. 617-864-2224)

I am suffocating under 400 unanswered letters. America has become BUREAUCRATIC. For the single reading at UCLA they sent me 5 papers to fill in. It was necessary to get a special visa called “I-1.” The Swedish Institute called the embassy and asked what would happen if I gave a reading in the U.S. without that visa.

—Is he paid?

—Yes.

—If he is paid and does not have a I-1, we will not allow him to enter the United States for 10 years!

No one has ever told me that I needed this type of visa. Actually it could have been an interesting experience to be exiled from the United States for 10 years. But as I had signed so many contracts at this time I went to the embassy and had my new visa stamped into my passport. No problem.

Robbed in Poland. Exiled from the United States. A naive man.

I am handwriting this because I have been looking at a bad TV program—2 ladies are talking about the relation between men and women; you would have been spellbound by this, but I cannot stand it, I switch it off...but am too lazy to fetch the typewriter. Can you read this? Have you written any new volumes? Is there much snow in Minnesota? Are you going to Paris? Who is your candidate for President?

I have your telephone number. Give Ruth our love.

Your old friend

Tomas