David Markson - Fare Forward - Letters from David Markson

Also, what arrived last week but a check I’d forgotten about — an advance on a Japanese edition of Wittgenstein’s Mistress. (Don’t know when scheduled.)

Lilacs all gone.

With love—

David

57 I’d told him, during our visit, that I’d lived in Japan for three years after college.

Simsy — or rather, Simsy-san—

I don’t recall ever having seen a Japanese book but for some reason I’d wager that my title will be: Wittgenstein’s Mistress. 58

Why do I think that?

Meantime, if you read that Carl Shuker book, The Method Actors, (and who knows, you may be a character in it), do let me know what you think. It will please my editor. And, hell, since they publish W.S. Merwin, Gary Snyder, etc., can’t hurt you either, maybe, one day, once I pass it on.

Oh, I forgot. The guy who spoke of “those wonderful folk who brought you Pearl Harbor,” 59was Jerry Della Femmina 60(or however it’s spelled).

Thine—

David

58 I’d asked him if he thought there’d be a different title for the Japanese version.

59 This was a line he’d quoted to me during our visit, when I’d mentioned my experience in Japan.

60 Jerry Della Femina, an advertising executive and restaurateur who wrote a bestselling book in 1970 called, From Those Wonderful Folks Who Gave You Pearl Harbor: Front-Line Dispatches from the Advertising War.

Dear Simso—

I never did mention that poem. 61The word “stupid” at the end didn’t work for me. 62I tried to think of substitutes, planning to ask you if one of them might fit the translation — that is, if I found one I liked — but got nowhere. But I thank you anyhow. And no, I didn’t know it. I know nothing of that literature.

Thine—

David

61 I’d included a Robert Hass translation of Kobayashi Issa’s death poem in a previous letter to David: “A bath when you’re born, / a bath when you die, / how stupid.”

62 I happen to love that “stupid” at the end, and told him so in my next letter.

Lissen, Simser—

What is this wiseguy stuff? If I tell you a poem doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. Behave yourself.

And what’s with Francoise Palleau mentioning that you were here? 63What am I gonna have to do, demand copies of everybody’s e-mail?

Tell Corey, every time you disagree — no question he’s right!

Be good. With love—

David

63 Francoise and I had gotten in touch by e-mail.

Dear Wisconsin—

Actually there are more than two or three typos in that interview, 64plus some mis-transcriptions, plus some screw-ups where they cut stuff; but since I do not believe in the web, the hell with it. But aren’t you sweet for looking out for me!

Am I supposed to know what PRACTICE [comma] RESTRAINT is? 65And why isn’t there a copy here, stacked between Shakespeare and Dante? Or Homer?

The Danes are great people. 66When the Nazis in WWII arrived and said all Jews must wear the yellow star, the king himself appeared wearing one.

And then of course there’s Hamlet.

(Though of course he’s an Elizabethan handover.)

Thine—

David

64 I’m not sure what interview he’s referring to here, but it must have been an online one I’d found, which becomes clear by the end of the sentence.

65 It was the title of my first book, due out in October of that year.

66 I must have mentioned my brother-in-law, who lives in Denmark with his wife, a Dane.

Simsy, Simsy—

PRACTICE, RESTRAINT is to go between my Shakespeare and Spenser? What am I supposed to do with my Shelley? My Skelton? My Gary Snyder? My Shirley? My Sidney? My Sitwell? My Simic? My Southwell? My Spender? My Karl Shapiro? My Smart? My Snodgrass? My Simpson? My Stevie Smith?

What kind of poet can’t even alphabetize?

For shame.

Dear Simso—

It occurred to me later last night that I’d not said congratulations on the book. 67I’ve been at it so long that I take them for granted, but I’m sure its existence gave you a thrill — and I couldn’t be more pleased for you. Mazel tov.

I also appreciate the inscription — and the dedication on “Bank Four.” I promise I’ll read it and read it and read it — until I at least begin to understand it.

And the rest of them.

I was delighted to see Corey. He’s far too good for you.

Liked your chum Margaret too. You’re all so smiley and energetic — gawd.

I kept wondering, when I got home, why I was hungry. Aren’t they supposed to give you toast or some such with an egg order — or was it on the side where I didn’t notice it?

I also realized I short-changed you guys on the bill. My $20 would have covered my food and drink, but was shy on the tax and tip. DO NOT RETURN THE ENCLOSED! 68(Oops. Tested it against the light. Too visible. I owe you $5.00)

If it arrives. Pretty dumb to send cash in a letter, no?

Hey — I enjoyed it all. And am sorry I don’t shut up.

With love to you both—

David

P.S. I also found something to do with the pumpkin. 69I won’t tell. But nice. I even scored points with it.

67 We’d met for lunch (finally, lunch!) earlier that day. I was in town for my book launch.

68 There was nothing enclosed, as he explains in the parenthetical remark, which he’d scribbled on later.

69 We’d brought him a miniature pumpkin.

All right, don’t ask me what I did with the pumpkin.

You’ll never know, now.

[Accompanied by a drawing of a pumpkin, on the bottom of the card.]

Simso—

Down the corridor here, a youngster with fire-engine red hair. When he’s carried or wheeled past, he’s never done anything but stare and scowl at me. Roughly two weeks ago, near Halloween, he had his first birthday. I knocked — and gave him the pumpkin. Those things are dense, they’re heavy. I thought he was nowhere near strong enough, but he gripped it in both hands and wouldn’t let go. His mother said he held onto it for days. Ever since, whenever I’ve seen him, he grins and grins. He’s now my little red-headed buddy. And that’s the tale of your silly-arsed pumpkin!

Love, etc.—

David

Simso—

You’re the one who hasn’t written, kiddo. Ever since I told you about the pumpkin. I figured you were sore — a gift from Laura Sims and I’d had the chutzpah to pass it along to a little one-year-old red-headed neighbor, shame on me. No news, in any event. (I have, however, spent more odd moments struggling with your pomes.) Do you know what today’s date (above) is? 70This time, shame on you, then.

Hey, love to you both—

D.

70 His birthday. His 78 th, to be exact.

Simso—

No, I ain’t a Capricorn, whatever comes before that — which I recall only because somebody once told me. Don’t tell me you believe in that shit?

Gawd, how can you teach as much as you say? The only time I did it full time—1964–66, at LIU — I was semi-suicidal.

Meantime, lissen, you might inquire at RCF yet again re your DM essay — telling them you saw a Dalkey Archive catalogue in a bookstore (I’m the one who saw one, but that means they are in distribution) and DM is not even listed for their spring issue. Otherwise, if you don’t peddle it before you go to Japan 71someplace, then what?

Why why why do you do all those readings? Who arranges them? Do you get paid?