To Tony
Tanner in 1970:
“I read
Janet Lewis’ one modern novel, with the rather awful title Against a Darkening Sky. It is
her worst book, but even her worst is pretty fantastic. Her reproduction and
analysis of people’s unverbalized feelings is always incredible. She’s about the
only person writing in English who ever makes me think of Tolstoy – not in
scope, but in her understanding of how beautiful (and interesting) the ordinary
person can be. . . . I really think she is one of the best living writers.”
In 1982,
writing to Douglas Chambers about “the fashion for things archaic this
century,” and the writer who most memorably documented it, Guy Davenport:
“Have you
read his book of essays, The Geography of
the Imagination [1981]? It contains some excellent things, a few slightly
silly and mannered things, but above all it is useful.”
To Dr.
Oliver Sacks in 1984 on his A Leg to
Stand On:
“At times,
in the more ecstatic parts of the book, you read like Melville, and I admire Melville
tremendously, having read and reread him all through two years ago: it involves going forward for stretches on your
nerves alone and is responsible for M at his best and worst (best Moby Dick worst Pierre).”
To Tanner,
in 1985:
“I feel much
oppressed by deaths. First two of my three favorite living poets died within a couple
of months of each other, J.V. Cunningham and Basil Bunting. The third is Robert
Duncan, who is barely alive.”
Writing to
August Kleinzahler in 1986:
“Richard
Yates. I’m very grateful for your persisting in recommending him. The story
that sticks most in my mind is ‘Judy Rolled the Bones’ [Eleven Kinds of Loneliness (1962], but maybe that’s because the
sergeant in it so much resembles the sergeant under whom I went basic training
. . . The Easter Parade [1976] is
very fine but I think falters at the end – seeing Emily go down hill reminds me
of seeing Balzac’s heroines (& heroes) go downhill . . .”
That same
year, to Douglas Chambers:
“Rereading Ulysses, and it is wonderful to be
embarked on all that exuberance again. That’s what it is, exuberance: that’s
why it is so much more than the principles of Flaubert projected to an extreme.
It is gorgeous and irritating and brilliant and unstoppable.”
Three months
later to Chambers, after describing his reimmersion in Marianne Moore’s poetry:
“I’m also reading
George Herbert, and of course it’s no surprise liking him. To dislike him would be like disliking Mozart or
the early Beatles. And also [Henry] James’ most perverse novel, The Sacred Fount, which I enjoy so much,
in its unforgivable obscurity that I guess this makes me a literary pervert as
much as a sexual one. Also Flaubert’s Education
Sentimentale to keep up my French. . .”
In 1997, to
Chambers:
“I was
reading Isaac Babel’s Collected Stories
and very splendid they are. The accuracy, the kidding rhetoric, as well as the
appalling violence. . . . I am especially sorry he never was able to go on with
the Odessa Stories, because in some
ways they are the best of the lot. He does have a wonderful way of hiding the
point of the story in a casual last paragraph which at first sight might read
like – oh, a descriptive conclusion to some genre study . . . and is anything
but.”
In 1998, to
Clive Wilmer:
“I have been
reading Oblomov, as it is about
someone like me, terminally lazy and unproductive.”
[See The Letters of Thom Gunn, eds. August
Kleinzahler, Michael Nott and Clive Wilmer; Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2021.]
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