To Loot My Life Clean: The Thomas Wolfe--Maxwell Perkins Correspondence

by Wolfe, Thomas; Perkins, Maxwell E.; Bruccoli, Matthew Joseph; Bucker, Park; Bruccoli, Matthew Joseph; Bucker, Park

• ISBN13: 9781570033551
• ISBN10: 1570033552
• Format: Hardcover
• Copyright: 2000-11-01
• Publisher: Univ of South Carolina Pr

Summary

The relationship between Thomas Wolfe and his legendary editor, Maxwell Perkins, has been the subject of guesswork and anecdote for seventy years. Beginning with the 1929 publication of Look Homeward, Angel, literary scholars have debated the writer's dependence on his editor and the degree to which Perkins participated in Wolfe's work. Now, with this volume of 251 letters between Wolfe and the House of Scribner (two-thirds of which have never been published), the mythologized friendship between the author and the editor is clarified, and the record can be set straight.

Celebrated for his close literary relationships with F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, and other literary giants of the early twentieth century, Maxwell Perkins was both mentor and father figure to Thomas Wolfe. According to the introduction, "The letters published here document Wolfe's artistic and professional problems, and demonstrate how Perkins, serving as both editor and friend, aided Wolfe in solving them. Only by considering all of the author/editor/publisher correspondence can Wo

Table of Contents

List of Illustrations	xi
Acknowledgments	xiii
Introduction: Thomas Wolfe and the House of Scribner	xv
Editorial Note	xxv
Chronology	xxvii
The Letters	1	(276)
Appendix 1: Undatable Letters	277	(2)
Appendix 2: Unmailed Wolfe Letters	279	(26)
Appendix 3: Maxwell Perkins's Biographical Observations on thomas Wolfe	305	(8)
Appendix 4: Errors and Inconsistencies in the Published Text of Look Homeward, Angel	313	(16)
Appendix 5: Scribners Alterations Lists for Of Time and the River	329	(4)
Background Readings	333	(2)
Index	335

Excerpts

Excerpt

The Letters

Late March 1928 TS, 4pp., PUL

NOTE FOR THE PUBLISHER'S READER

    This book, by my estimate, is from 250,000 to 280,000 words long. A book of this length from an unknown writer no doubt is rashly experimental, and shows his ignorance of the mechanics of publishing. That is true: this is my first book.

    But I believe it would be unfair to assume that because this is a very long book it is too long a book. A revision would, I think, shorten it somewhat. But I do not believe any amount of revision would make it a short book. It could be shortened by scenes, by pages, by thousands of words. But it could not be shortened by half, or a third, or a quarter.

    There are some pages here which were compelled by a need for fullness of expression, and which had importance when the book was written not because they made part of its essential substance, but because, by setting them forth, the mind was released for its basic work of creation. These pages have done their work of catharsis, and may now be excised. But their excision would not make a short book.

    It does not seem to me that the book is overwritten. Whatever comes out of it must come out block by block and not sentence by sentence. Generally, I do not believe the writing to be wordy, prolix, or redundant. And separate scenes are told with as much brevity and economy as possible. But the book covers the life of a large family intensively for a period of twenty years, and in rapid summary for fifty years. And the book tries to describe not only the visible outer lives of all these people, but even more their buried lives.

    The book may be lacking in plot but it is not lacking in plan. The plan is rigid and densely woven. There are two essential movements--one outward and one downward. The outward movement describes the effort of a child, a boy, and a youth for release, freedom, and loneliness in new lands. The movement of experience is duplicated by a series of widening concentric circles, three of which are represented by the three parts of the book. The downward movement is represented by a constant excavation into the buried life of a group of people, and describes the cyclic curve of a family's life-genesis, union, decay, and dissolution.

    To me, who was joined so passionately with the people in this book, it seemed that they were the greatest people I had ever known and the texture of their lives the richest and strangest; and discounting the distortion of judgment that my nearness to them would cause, I think they would seem extraordinary to anyone. If I could get my magnificent people on paper as they were, if I could get down something of their strangeness and richness in my book, I believed that no one would object to my 250,000 words; or, that if my pages swarmed with this rich life, few would damn an inept manner and accuse me of not knowing the technique for making a book, as practiced by Balzac, or Flaubert, or Hardy, or Gide. If I have failed to get any of this opulence into my book, the fault lies not in my people--who could make an epic--but in me.

    But that is what I wanted to do and tried to do. This book was written in simpleness and nakedness of soul. When I began to write the book twenty months ago I got back something of a child's innocency and wonder. You may question this later when you come to the dirty words. But the dirty words can come out quickly--if the book has any chance of publication, they will come out without conscience or compunction. For the rest, I wrote it innocently and passionately. It has in it much that to me is painful and ugly, but, without sentimentality or dishonesty, it seems to me, because I am a romantic, that pain has an inevitable fruition in beauty. And the book has in it sin and terror and darkness--ugly dry lusts, cruelty, a strong sexual hunger of a child--the dark, the evil, the forbidden: But I believe it has many other things as well, and I wrote it with strong joy, without counting the costs, for I was sure at the time that the whole of my intention--which was to come simply and unsparingly to naked life, and to tell all of my story without affectation or lewdness--would be apparent. At that time I believed it was possible to write of all things, so long as it was honestly done. So far as I know there is not a nasty scene in the book,- but there are the dirty words, and always a casual and unimpeded vision of everything.

    When I wrote the book I seized with delight everything that would give it color and richness. All the variety and madness of my people--the leper taint, the cruel waste, the dark flowering evil of life I wrote about with as much exultancy as health, sanity, joy.

    It is, of course, obvious that the book is "autobiographical." But, in a literal sense, it is probably no more autobiographical than Gulliver's Travels. There is scarcely a scene that has its base in literal fact. The book is a fiction--it is loaded with invention: story, fantasy, vision. But it is a fiction that is, I believe, more true than fact--a fiction that grew out of a life completely digested in my spirit, a fiction which telescopes, condenses, and objectifies all the random or incompleted gestures of life--which tries to comprehend people, in short, not by telling what people did, but what they should have done. The most literal and autobiographical part of the book, therefore, is its picture of the buried life. The most exact thing in it is its fantasy--its picture of a child's soul.

    I have never called this book a novel. To me it is a book such as all men may have in them. It is a book made out of my life, and it represents my vision of life to my twentieth year.

    What merit it has I do not know. It sometimes seems to me that it presents a strange and deep picture of American life--one that I have never seen elsewhere; and that I may have some hope of publication. I do not know; I am very close to it. I want to find out about it, and to be told by someone else about: it.

    I am assured that this book will have a good reading by an intelligent person in a publishing house. I have written all this, not to propitiate you, for I have no peddling instinct, but entreat you, if you spend the many hours necessary for a careful reading, to spend a little more time in giving me an opinion. If it is not a good book, why? If parts are good and parts bad, what are they? If it is not publishable, could it be made so? Out of the great welter of manuscripts that you must read, does this one seem distinguished by any excellence, interest, superior merit?

    I need a little honest help. If you are interested enough to finish the book, won't you give it to me?

    1. TW'S explanatory note was included with the TS of O Lost that was submitted to publishers.

    2. The length of O Lost has become inflated. TW's estimate is accurate; the typescript is approximately 275,000 words.

* * *

CC, 2pp., PUL

Oct. 22, 1928

Dear Mr. Wolfe:

    Mrs. Ernest Boyd left with us some weeks ago, the manuscript of your novel, "O Lost." I do not know whether it would be possible to work out a plan by which it might be worked into a form publishable by us, but I do know that setting the practical aspects of the matter aside, it is a very remarkable thing, and that no editor could read it without being excited by it, and filled with admiration by many passages in it, and sections of it.

    Your letter that came with it, shows that you realize what difficulties it presents, so that I need not enlarge upon this side of the question. What we should like to know is whether you will be in New York in a fairly near future, when we can see you and discuss the manuscript. We should certainly look forward to such an interview with very great interest.

Ever truly yours,

[Maxwell Perkins]

    1. New York literary agent Madeleine Boyd (1885?-1972). Boyd wrote MP on 18 October providing TW's Munich address.

    2. "Note for the Publisher's Reader."

* * *

ALS, 7pp., PUL

Vienna, Saturday Nov 17, 1928

Dear Mr Perkins: Your letter of October 22 which was addressed to Munich, was sent on to me here. I have been in Budapest for several weeks and came here last night. I got your letter at Cook's this morning.

    Mrs Ernest Boyd wrote me a few weeks ago that she was coming abroad, and said that you had my book. I wrote her to Paris but have not heard from her yet.

    I can't tell you how good your letter has made me feel. Your words of praise have filled me with hope, and are worth more than their weight in diamonds to me. Sometimes, I suppose, praise does more harm than good, but this time it was badly needed, whether deserved or not.--I came abroad over four months ago determined to put the other book out of my mind, and to get to work on a new one. Instead, I have filled one note book after another, my head is swarming with ideas--but I have written nothing that looks like a book yet. In Munich I did write thirty or forty thousand words; then I got my head and my nose broken, and began to have things happen thick and fast with a great many people, including the police. I have learned to read German fairly well, and have learned something of their multitudinous books. But I had indigestion from seeing and trying to take in too much, and I was depressed at my failure to settle down to work. Now I feel better. I have decided to come back to New York in December, and I shall come to see you very soon after my arrival.

    I have not looked at my book since I gave a copy to Mrs. Boyd--at the time I realized the justice of all people said--particularly the impossibility of printing it in its present form and length. But at that time I was "written out" on it--I could not go back and revise. Now I believe I can come back to it with a much fresher and more critical feeling.--I have no right to expect others to do for me what I should do for myself, but, although I am able to criticize wordiness and over-abundance in others, I am not able practically to criticize it in myself. The business of selection, and of revision is simply hell for me--my efforts to cut out 50000 words may sometimes result in my adding 75000.

    --As for the obscene passages and the dirty words, I know perfectly well that no publisher could print them. Yet, I swear to you, it all seemed to me very easy and practical when I wrote them.--But already I have begun to write a long letter to you, when all I should do is to thank you for your letter and say when I am coming back Then the other things can come out when I see you.

    But your letter has given me new hope for the book--I have honestly always felt that there are parts of it of which I need not be ashamed, and which might justify some more abiding form. I want you to know that you have no very stiff necked person to deal with as regards the book--I shall probably agree with most of the criticisms, although I hope that my own eagerness and hopefulness will not lead me into a weak acquiescence to everything.

    I want the direct criticism and advice of an older and more critical person. I wonder if at Scribners I can find Someone who is interested enough to talk over the whole huge Monster with me--part by part. Most people will say "it's too long," "its got to be cut," "parts have to come out," and so on--but obviously this is no great help to the poor wretch who has done the deed, and who knows all this, without always knowing how he's going to remedy it.

    I am sorry that Mrs Boyd sent you the letter that I wrote for the Reader. She said it was a very foolish letter, but added cheerfully that I would learn as I grow older. I wish I had so much faith. I told her to tear the letter out of the binding; but if it indicated to you that I did realize some of the difficulties, perhaps it was of some use. And I realize the difficulties more than ever now.

    I am looking forward to meeting you, and I am still youthful enough to hope that something may come of it. It will be a strange thing indeed to me if at last I shall manage to make a connection with such a firm as Scribner's which, in my profound ignorance of all publishing matters, I had always thought vaguely was a solid and somewhat conservative house. But it may be that I am a conservative and at bottom very correct person. If this is true, I assure you I will have no very great heartache over it, although once it might have caused me trouble. At any rate, I believe I am through with firing off pistols just for the fun of seeing people jump--my new book has gone along for 40000 words without improprieties of language--and I have not tried for this result.

    Please forgive my use of the pencil--in Vienna papers and pen and ink, as well as many other things that abound in our own fortunate country, are doled out bit by bit under guard. I hope you are able to make out my scrawl which is more than many people do--and that you will not forget about me before I come back.

Cordially Yours

Thomas Wolfe

    My address in New York is The Harvard Club--I get my mail there. Here in Vienna, at Thomas Cook's, but as I'm going to Italy in a week, I shall probably have no more mail before I get home

    1. Thomas Cook and Sons, travel agency.

    2. The ribbon copy for O Lost submitted to Scribners does not survive; presumably it was in several binders.

    3. TW ended his first draft of this letter, mistakenly addressed to "Mr. Peters," with "Is there someone on Scribner's staff who might be interested enough in my book to argue with me? On many points I am sure he would not have to argue at all. But it would be wrong for me to say `Yes, sir,' to everything in a spirit of a weak agreement" ( The Notebooks of Thomas Wolfe , ed. Richard S. Kennedy and Paschal Reeves [Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1970], p. 243).

* * *

CC, 1 p., PUL

Dec. 7, 1928

Dear Mr. Wolfe:

    Thanks very much indeed for your letter of November 19th. I look forward impatiently to seeing you, and I hope you will call up as soon as you conveniently can after reading this. Then we can have a talk.

Ever sincerely yours,

[Maxwell Perkins]

* * *

CC, 2pp., PUL

Jan. 8, 1929

Dear Mr. Wolfe:

    This is to tell you that we have formally considered "O Lost" and shall be delighted to publish it on the basis of a 10% royalty on the first 2,000 copies and of 15% thereafter;- and as soon as we hear that the terms suit you, we shall send a cheque for five hundred dollars as an advance. The question of terms would naturally be taken up with Mrs. Boyd who brought us the book and acts as literary agent. I'd be glad to get into touch with her if she's in New York, or you might do it;- or if she's out of reach, we could make the terms dependent on her approval, which I hardly doubt she would give, and send you the advance immediately. You could simply give us a note accepting provisionally.

Ever sincerely yours,

[Maxwell Perkins]

ALS, 4pp., PUL Harvard Club letterhead

Jan 9, 1929

Dear Mr Perkins: I got your letter this morning and I have just come from a talk with Mrs Madeleine Boyd, my literary agent.

    I am very happy to accept the terms you offer me for the publication of my book, O Lost. Mrs Boyd is also entirely satisfied.

    I am already at work on the changes and revisions proposed in the book, and I shall deliver to you the new beginning some time next week.

    Although this should be only a business letter I must tell you that I look forward with joy and hope to my connection with Scribner's. To-day--the day of your letter--is a very grand day in my life. I think of my relation to Scribner's thus far with affection and loyalty, and I hope this marks the beginning of a long association that they will not have cause to regret. I have a tremendous lot to learn, but I believe I shall go ahead with it; and I know that there is far better work in me than I have yet done.

    If you have any communication for me before I see you next, you can reach me at 27 West 15th Street (2nd Floor Rear).

Faithfully Yours,

Thomas Wolfe

    1. This letter followed TW's first meeting with MP.

CC, 1 p., PUL

Jan. 11, 1929

    Dear Mr. Wolfe:

    I sent the contract and check to Mrs. Boyd yesterday. She said she would immediately get in touch with you. I look forward eagerly to seeing the first section of the revised manuscript. You can certainly be sure that your novel will have the greatest personal support and interest in this establishment. Many thanks for your letter.

Ever sincerely yours,

[Maxwell Perkins]

* * *

CC, 1 p., PUL

March 28, 1929

    Dear Mr. Wolfe:

    I am writing you in order to avoid disturbing you by phone in case you are still doing your sleeping by day. I want to arrange to go over the manuscript thus far, in order to show cuts I would like to suggest, and to consider others;- and this might take an hour or two.

    Besides, we ought to get on now as rapidly as we possibly can with the book.

Ever sincerely yours,

[Maxwell Perkins]

    1. On 12 April MP wrote Madeleine Boyd: "We are making progress with Wolfe's book. I believe we shall soon have it short enough to be got into one volume form. And the more I see of it, the more I think of it" (PUL).

* * *

TO: John Hall Wheelock ALS, 3 pp., PUL Hotel Bellevue letterhead, Boston

Tuesday July 16, 1929

    Dear Mr Wheelock: My address will be Ocean Point, Maine, Boothbay Harbor, Care of Mrs Jessie Benge, Snow Cottage. Somewhat complicated, but if you have proofs for me send them there I'm going up to-day and glad to be out of the city.

    I noticed the enclosed cartoon in the Boston Herald this morning, and think it was probably inspired by Scribners' Magazine-Hemingway affair. Dashiell is making a collection--if you think it would interest him please send it down.

    I went out to the Arnold Arboretum yesterday--it was very beautiful, but the birds were inciting one another to lust, in a lewd and uncensored manner, all over the place.

Yours faithfully,

Wolfe.

FROM: John Hall Wheelock CCS, 5 pp., PUL

July 17, 1929

Dear Wolfe:

    I hope you don't mind my omitting the "Mr," and that you will do the same in writing me. I was very glad to get your note of the 16th this morning, giving your complete address. Thanks so much for the cartoon from the Boston Herald, which was undoubtedly inspired by Scribner's Magazine, as you surmise - and which I have passed on to Mr. Dashiell. I am surprised that the Boston authorities haven't looked into the moral situations which seem to be prevailing in the Arnold Arboretum, according to your ornithological report.

    I have good news and bad news for you. The good news being that your story is out in the August number of Scribner's, and that I will ask the Magazine to send you your copies to the new address. In the back of the Magazine you will find a brief write-up about your work, and also what seems to me an excellent picture of yourself. The bad news is that some seventy-five pages of your manuscript have been mislaid in some way, so that I am obliged to send you proof of galleys 79 to 100, inclusive, without the original copy.

    These galleys go forward to your new address to-day by first-class post I have read them most carefully and I think you will understand my various corrections and suggestions. They will require of course a most careful reading by yourself.

    Please note that I have deleted, on galley 80, several sections which it seems best to omit. You and Mr. Perkins had agreed to omit these sections, when you went over the manuscript, but in some way the printer set them up. I think nothing is lost by their omission. In the same way I have deleted one or two phrases in other places.

    Is there any danger of confusion through the use of the names "Sheba," "Horty" and "Miss Amy".

    I have looked up and verified all your quotations, so you need not worry about these.

    I wish I had time and space to tell you how my enthusiasm grows with the proofreading. I must content myself with the less gracious act of pointing out what seems to me a defect. If you do not agree with me, kindly disregard my criticism. It seems to me that the section beginning in the middle of galley 87 and running to Chapter 25, is too long. This is the section dealing with the conversation between George Graves and Eugene, and is full of literary allusions, very skilfully interwoven with the story. It is one of the best parts of the book but it loses by being too much prolonged. You don't want the reader to get, for a moment, the impression that the author is conscious of his own skill and virtuosity; and I am afraid this will be the feeling aroused if this section runs on as long as it now does. Won't you consider this, and if you agree indicate such parts as you wish omitted?

    You have not yet returned to me revised galleys 71 and 72, together with their foul galleys; nor have you returned galleys 72 to 78, inclusive, together with copy thereto. I have received here page proof covering the first 70 galleys, which is to say about 250 pages, but as this page proof covers only revised galleys, which had very very few changes and as I am following page proof most carefully myself, I felt it was not necessary to trouble you with them.

    The printer was a little bit upset by the very lengthy insertion which you made on one of our revised galleys. I don't suppose it is likely that you'll be making another of this kind. It is of course desirable to do as little of this as possible, on account of the expense and delay involved.

    This is a tiresome letter, but I do hope with all my heart that you're going to have a fine rest and a happy time, too, up in Maine.

As ever, dear Wolfe,

Yours sincerely,

J.H.W.

To

Mr. Thomas Wolfe

c/o Mrs. Jessie Benge

Boothbay Harbor, Maine.

Snow Cottage, Ocean Point.

Copyright © 2000 Eugene H. Winick. All rights reserved.