Steinbeck (51 page)

Last summer I wrote a little biography of Ed Ricketts. It is a curious thing but in doing it I had to go back in my own memory to a time I had forgotten. Many things came back—warped no doubt and changed and yet strangely whole with their feelings and colorings. I would not have them back—not any of them no matter how good. And some were very good. A year ago I saw a good deal of Carol. I like her but I had forgotten why we had to separate.

I hope to see you soon.

John

Cambridge Beaches
Somerset, Bermuda
January 5 [1951]

Dear Pat:

I haven't slept so much since I was a child—about 12 hours a day not counting naps which are pretty often. For two days we had a baby hurricane but now it is warm and calm.

I think we were both tireder than we knew. We struggle from bed to dining room to beach to bed and end up pooped. It is wonderful. And the dreams at night have been strange —a kind of autobiographical motion picture going way back and, curiously enough, in sequence, also more accurate than most dreams. Today is very warm. Elaine is on the beach getting some sun. I have to see someone from a newspaper.

Our pockets and clothes were full of rice. When we got to the St. Regis we were dripping rice. Certain nieces of mine were responsible. You know I almost wish you had tried to trail us that night. Our bags had been taken to the hotel much earlier. And we went for a long ride in the park before we went to the hotel. Didn't even have to register. I had done that earlier and had the key in my pocket. And the hotel would not have admitted that we were there. It was fun, I must say.

I thought the boys conducted themselves very well at the wedding, didn't you? There was one tragedy when they discovered that Waverly couldn't go home to live with them. They had worked that out for themselves. They were upset by that. They thought she was going to move in with them.

We'll be leaving next Monday and will be in late that night. So we may be back before you get this letter.

However, now I'm going to the beach and let the reporter find me if he can.

so long
John

[206 East 72nd Street]
[New York]
February 20, 1951

Dear Miss Geffen:

I am sick of seeing Marc Connelly parading in regalia to make a peacock squirm while I remain as undecorated as a jaybird. Will you please send to me at the above address, any regalia, buttons, ribbons, small swords etc., as are befitting to my academic grandeur?

I'll show that upstart Connelly.

Yours sincerely
John Steinbeck

[New York]
(February 23, 1951]

Dear Miss Geffen:

Many thanks for your letter and I shall treasure the buttons when they arrive. I must say I am disappointed at the lack of regalia. The French Academy meets dressed in cocked hats, embroidered vests and small swords. The Spanish academicians wear pants made entirely of bird of paradise feathers. Why can't we do something as spectacular and for the same reason—to cover with finery our depressingly small talent?

I've never been to a meeting in my life except before a judge. Maybe I will, though, one day soon.

John Steinbeck

[New York]
[May 1951]

 

I am happy to join Archy in his nominations. Do I have the right to propose members for the institute? If I do have, I wish to propose Richard Rodgers and John O‘Hara. Will you let me know? Archy could second for O'Hara and Deems Taylor can carry out the second in music. It is ridiculous that these two are not members. Will you please let me hear what comes of this?

Yours
John Steinbeck

[New York]
[1951]
Wednesday

Dear Pat:

I may have spent a worse day than yesterday but I don't recall it. And when I went over the record with Juan and saw no clot, no tumor, the relief was almost unbearable. But even if there had been, there would have been plenty to do. The machine does not make mistakes.

You must have been frightened. I would have been.

I'm sorry if I was rough yesterday. I was wound up very tight and I'm afraid I would have been rougher if necessary.

But there—now I can work. I told you it was a selfish matter. I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you.

J.

Siasconset, Nantucket
June 18, 1951
Monday

Dear Pat:

It wasn't such a bad trip. Didn't take as long as we had thought. Got in to find the lights on, beds made and fires lighted. Very pleasant. It was cold the first couple of days but now delightfully warm but not hot and fires at night so far.

The boat is not here. If it is not in a very short time I am going to be angry and start burning up the wires.

Went to work this morning and got my quota done by I P.M. Boys and Elaine are at the beach. I am going to do a few duties and then join them. I shall be happy here if my work goes as it should. And I see no reason why it should not. Started the sequence about Tom Hamilton this morning. It will take most of this week. I will send ms. registered mail every Saturday or perhaps Friday afternoon. In any case it should be in on Monday.

We will be glad to see you when you come. Just give us a warning.

I miss the phone calls but will have to get over that.

Take your medicine and I think it is about time for you to go back and see Juan. Call for an appointment. There is another thing I have meant to discuss with you. I think you should tell Dorothy about this. I can understand your wanting to save her worry but such things usually don't save anything. I think you owe it to her to tell her. A woman marries a man for the worry as well as the other things. And now that it is better, she need not worry. But even if it weren't she deserves to know. Just imagine how it would be if she kept something like this from you for whatever reason. It's all a part of trust and sharing. You think it over. You don't really spare her anything and you rob her of something that is her right. I hate to lecture you but I think I am right about this. Love to you both and all three and remind Pascal that we expect him here this summer.

John

Nantucket
June 27, 1951

Dear Elizabeth:

The work I did today, in fact for the last three days, pleases me deeply. I only hope it is interesting. It truly interests me.

We have a revolt of the children. I guess we must have it every year with the big jump from Gwyn's kind of life to our kind of life. But we're right in the middle of it. I'll let you know how it comes out because we must win. I'm afraid we've lost a child if we don't.

I feel excited and good. Never knew a place with more energy than here. The air is full of it. And I like the people very much and they seem to like us.

 

 

Saturday

It was a good but strenuous week. We won the first skirmish with the boys but that is not the whole war. Finished a whole section, except possibly one more episode, this week. The book does move along. Fingers crossed. Elaine says she likes this last week. I am now so completely entangled in my story that I don't know. I'm living about 75 percent in the book now. But East of Eden seems to be its title. It has settled down and seems permanent.

Bye for now,

Love,
John

Nantucket
July 13, 1951
Friday

Dear Pat:

The ms. which I am putting in the mail at the same time I post this will be one day short. I took Thursday off and went fishing. I know it doesn't really matter that I keep to ten pages a week but it is a kind of good feeling that I can do it.

The fishing trip got no fish and I got a painful sun burn but out of it I got a whole new extension of the book. I guess I never really do stop working.

Yesterday, out on the water, I got a funny thought about you. You have been publishing things for many years and there must be a special feeling a publisher has for a book. The failure, or denunciation or attack or praise of a book would arouse an emotion but it would be a publisher's emotion. Now for the first time, although I may be wrong, I think you will have to experience writer's emotions. I think you are so close to the making of it, that an attack on the book, even a raised eyebrow will send you into a rage. You are not used to writer's emotions as I am. I think you will be more deeply hurt by attack and more proud of praise than I will be because it will be your first experience.

In your last letter, you said you liked to do the errands I ask. Will you do one more very silly one for me? Again it concerns Abercrombie & Fitch. First I would like you to go there and ask whether they have a section or a personnel which takes care of queries by mail. Second, in either the boat department or the gun department, probably the latter, they used to have small cannons for starting yacht races. They were pretty little things and they fired 10-gauge shotgun blanks. I would like you to go and inquire about them—whether they still have them. How much they cost and how much the blanks cost. Then I would like you to put this information on a separate page in your next letter to me so that I may put it aside and not show it to Elaine. My reason is both absurd and good. On her birthday I would like to fire her a 21-gun salute and I don't want her to know about it. Her birthday is August 14 and she puts great stock in it. There it is, now back to work.

[unsigned]

Nantucket
July 30, 1951

Dear Molly and Gadg:

Elaine has been carrying the mail for me. I, the furious letter writer, seem to have retired from the scene. Have reached the “I am well, how are you, yrs sincerely” stage.

Look what date it is! Isn't that remarkable and terrible? Half the summer is over and I can hardly believe it. I have about 600 pages of my book done and about 3 or 400 to go. At last I have a title for it which I like. See if you do. It is East of Eden. It is perfect for this book and it sounds like a very soft title until you read the first 16 verses of the 4th chapter of Genesis. The title comes from the 16th verse but the whole passage is applicable. Please don't tell my title yet. But it is the one I am going to use. I think the book is pretty good. It's what I want to write anyway. It's long but it covers nearly a hundred years and three generations and you can't do that if it is short. I seem to have been writing it all my life and in one sense I have. I should finish the first draft about Hallowe' en.

We have two birthdays next month. Thom's is Aug. 2 and Elaine's is Aug. 14. Both will be observed with festivities and lanterns. I am giving Elaine the damndest presents, and don't you tell but they may amuse you because most of them are so unlady-like. I. a genuine Dodger baseball cap to wear when she watches her team, 2. a Swedish steel bow and a rack of beautiful arrows (archery is her favorite sport), 3. a Colt woodsman .22 automatic pistol. Those are the active presents. Then a painting, and a greenhouse for the garden in New York. Also I have arranged for a 21-gun salute (a real one) to her on her birthday. But all that is the deepest secret.