Thursday, March 04, 2004
The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective)
welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com
_____________________________________________________________________________
Deviant Satyriasis & The Feathered Man, pt I (focusing on The Feathered Man, as opposed to the Painted Bird)
Questions: Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
Jerzy Kosinski and his obsession with transexuals, cavorting with them at fabled Plato's Retreat in Seventies. Any word on it? Or how 'bout T. Williams' NY sex obsession down by the docks? Would love to read your thoughts.
bryan
Answer: From the research I’ve done, it seems that Jerzy Kosinski did have an interest in transsexuals, and it also appears that he visited sex clubs such as Plato’s Retreat during the 1970s. Whether or not he ever had direct contact with a transsexual while at Plato’s Retreat is a something I have been unable to substantiate conclusively.
Kosinski writes about transsexuals in Passion Play and Blind Date. In 1982, he spoke to Penthouse Magazine about his interest in transsexuals and in sex clubs.
Penthouse: You have both photographed transsexuals and written about them. Why?
Kosinski: All my fictional characters are seekers and questers, preoccupied with self-definition. A transsexual’s need for a new self-definition is far greater than most of us have. And the price a transsexual pays for redefinition is obviously very dramatic – and often irreversible. That’s why, at least twice, transsexuals have appeared among the protagonists of my fiction, and that’s why I’ve photographed some eighty of them at various stages of their metamorphosis. […]
Penthouse: Do you mind being recognized by your readers when you go to various sex clubs?
Kosinski: No more, no less than when I go any other place. Sex clubs are open to the public and profiled in Time and Newsweek and on prime-time television, and are aspects of our life. And as a writer I’m just as curious about them as I am about industrial exhibits or sports events. Most people at the sex clubs aren’t into recognizing others. Usually, they are there to seek inner recognition.
Penthouse: Do you ever visit the sex clubs in disguise?
Kosinksi: Once in a while. But when I want to remain anonymous, I also wear disguises to museums, industrial exhibits, or cinemas. In disguise, whether alone or accompanying someone in particular, I am more abandoned, as if an outer censorship has been lifted. After all, I don’t go to these places to discuss my novels, or my politics. I am there to be myself, to watch or even to do what interests me.
(Leaming, Barbara. Penthouse Magazine, July 1982: 128-130,167-171, 196-212. Rpt. in Conversations with Jerzy Kosinski. Ed. Tom Teicholz. Jackson, University of Press of Mississippi: 1993. p. 200-202)
While we cannot (based on the above) assert with total confidence that Jerzy Kosiniski cavorted with transsexuals at Plato’s Retreat in the 1970’s, the fact that he did go to sex clubs to “do what interests me” and given his curiosity towards transsexuals and the notoriously wild nature of sex clubs, it is my opinion that he probably did.
(Incidentally, another interesting mystery associated with Kosinksi is whether or not other people wrote much of what is attributed to him – a charge (I believe) raised by The Village Voice, in the early 1980s. But that’s a mystery for another day.)
Don’t miss part II of Deviant Satyriasis & The Feathered Man (to be posted Monday), in which Tennessee Williams’ possible interest in sex by the docks (in NY) will be discussed.
welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com
_____________________________________________________________________________
Deviant Satyriasis & The Feathered Man, pt I (focusing on The Feathered Man, as opposed to the Painted Bird)
Questions: Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
Jerzy Kosinski and his obsession with transexuals, cavorting with them at fabled Plato's Retreat in Seventies. Any word on it? Or how 'bout T. Williams' NY sex obsession down by the docks? Would love to read your thoughts.
bryan
Answer: From the research I’ve done, it seems that Jerzy Kosinski did have an interest in transsexuals, and it also appears that he visited sex clubs such as Plato’s Retreat during the 1970s. Whether or not he ever had direct contact with a transsexual while at Plato’s Retreat is a something I have been unable to substantiate conclusively.
Kosinski writes about transsexuals in Passion Play and Blind Date. In 1982, he spoke to Penthouse Magazine about his interest in transsexuals and in sex clubs.
Penthouse: You have both photographed transsexuals and written about them. Why?
Kosinski: All my fictional characters are seekers and questers, preoccupied with self-definition. A transsexual’s need for a new self-definition is far greater than most of us have. And the price a transsexual pays for redefinition is obviously very dramatic – and often irreversible. That’s why, at least twice, transsexuals have appeared among the protagonists of my fiction, and that’s why I’ve photographed some eighty of them at various stages of their metamorphosis. […]
Penthouse: Do you mind being recognized by your readers when you go to various sex clubs?
Kosinski: No more, no less than when I go any other place. Sex clubs are open to the public and profiled in Time and Newsweek and on prime-time television, and are aspects of our life. And as a writer I’m just as curious about them as I am about industrial exhibits or sports events. Most people at the sex clubs aren’t into recognizing others. Usually, they are there to seek inner recognition.
Penthouse: Do you ever visit the sex clubs in disguise?
Kosinksi: Once in a while. But when I want to remain anonymous, I also wear disguises to museums, industrial exhibits, or cinemas. In disguise, whether alone or accompanying someone in particular, I am more abandoned, as if an outer censorship has been lifted. After all, I don’t go to these places to discuss my novels, or my politics. I am there to be myself, to watch or even to do what interests me.
(Leaming, Barbara. Penthouse Magazine, July 1982: 128-130,167-171, 196-212. Rpt. in Conversations with Jerzy Kosinski. Ed. Tom Teicholz. Jackson, University of Press of Mississippi: 1993. p. 200-202)
While we cannot (based on the above) assert with total confidence that Jerzy Kosiniski cavorted with transsexuals at Plato’s Retreat in the 1970’s, the fact that he did go to sex clubs to “do what interests me” and given his curiosity towards transsexuals and the notoriously wild nature of sex clubs, it is my opinion that he probably did.
(Incidentally, another interesting mystery associated with Kosinksi is whether or not other people wrote much of what is attributed to him – a charge (I believe) raised by The Village Voice, in the early 1980s. But that’s a mystery for another day.)
Don’t miss part II of Deviant Satyriasis & The Feathered Man (to be posted Monday), in which Tennessee Williams’ possible interest in sex by the docks (in NY) will be discussed.
Wednesday, March 03, 2004
The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective)
welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com
______________________________________________________________________
A new theory on James’s Injury
(Note: The Literary Dick (as in Private Dectective) will accept and occasionally publish interesting literary commentary, though it should be noted that the opinions expressed in such comentary are not (and should not be seen to reflect) those of Jonathanames.com.)
(Another Note: In the below, Mr. S. Michael Mannix makes reference to an essay I wrote about a mysterious injury to Henry James's testicles. That essay can be found at www.Jonathanames.com and also in the very fun Konundrum Engine Literary Review (http://lit.konundrum.com/)).
Dear Mr. Wood,
I read your article on Jonathan Ames' website, and, finding the subject interesting, I decided to offer a few thoughts on the matter of Henry James' injury. I admire your research, and found you made very clever inferences about the effects impotence must have had on Henry James, as both a man and an artist. I read what you described as the obscure prose with which James described how he was injured, and gave serious consideration to what James did write about how it happened. To quote what appeared in your article:
[James was] Jammed into the acute angle between two high fences, where the rhythmic play of my arms, in tune with that of several other pairs, but at a dire disadvantage of positions, induced a rural, a rusty, a quasi-extemporised old engine to work and saving the stream to flow, I had done myself a horrid even if obscure hurt;...
The deliberate obscurity of James' prose is certainly evident, I would hate to have to diagram a sentence with so many words in it. So, to get the picture, I forced myself to wonder what images James took for granted in his writing, such as the operation of an 1861 fire engine. I suspect that this is the crucial detail that has been omitted from James' account of his injury.
Early fire engines pumped water from an unpreasurized source (a pond, a well, a rain barrel) through a syphon into the hose. The pumps were worked by hand, usually by four or six men. (Detailed illustrations can be found through the Internet.) James also described the lay of the land rather poorly, saying only that he, or his engine, was set between two tall fences that met of at an angle of less than forty-five degrees; one can imply from the words "at a dire disadvantage of position" that he and his fellow firemen did not have an open range of movement to operate the pumps. James does paint a very clear image of the workings of his fire engine, using four verbs, including one compound word, to emphasize the difficulty of the action in which he was injured. So, it was while forcing a rusted lever to pull a piston, while standing in the wrong position, that he was injured.
I would want a weight lifting instructors opinion on this matter, if it where to be an authoritative theory on the nature of James' injury and impotence. That said, what I take away from James' account suggests that what he was doing may have caused a hernia in his groin. An injury obscure because of it's proximity to his privates. This ties in neatly with the mention that one of your sources made to the hypochondria of the James family, and the statement James made when he described his realization that he could not complain about his injury without it becoming a "matter of public exposition." Could Henry James have injured a muscle in his groin performing the action he described? Could he have born the pain without complaint, out of pure embarrassment? Could an herniated groin muscle have rendered him impotent, causing his genitals to shrink from lack of use, and generally rendering him into the asexual enigma which you and Mr. Ames wanted to decipher?
I find myself quite fascinated with this topic, and would be happy know your thoughts on the theory I have developed. The connection between James and Hemingway is also fascinating, considering the thematic importance they gave to the role of castration in American literature. The Victorian James using emotional castration as a metaphor for physical impotence; the Modern Hemingway using physical castration to describe emotional impotence.
Thank you for contributing your research to the public forum via the Internet.
Respectfully,
S. Michael Mannix
Washington, D. C.
If you have any thoughts on Mr. Mannix’s hernia theory, he and I would be delighted to hear them. Mr. Mannix can be reached at mrmannix@hotmail.com.
welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com
______________________________________________________________________
A new theory on James’s Injury
(Note: The Literary Dick (as in Private Dectective) will accept and occasionally publish interesting literary commentary, though it should be noted that the opinions expressed in such comentary are not (and should not be seen to reflect) those of Jonathanames.com.)
(Another Note: In the below, Mr. S. Michael Mannix makes reference to an essay I wrote about a mysterious injury to Henry James's testicles. That essay can be found at www.Jonathanames.com and also in the very fun Konundrum Engine Literary Review (http://lit.konundrum.com/)).
Dear Mr. Wood,
I read your article on Jonathan Ames' website, and, finding the subject interesting, I decided to offer a few thoughts on the matter of Henry James' injury. I admire your research, and found you made very clever inferences about the effects impotence must have had on Henry James, as both a man and an artist. I read what you described as the obscure prose with which James described how he was injured, and gave serious consideration to what James did write about how it happened. To quote what appeared in your article:
[James was] Jammed into the acute angle between two high fences, where the rhythmic play of my arms, in tune with that of several other pairs, but at a dire disadvantage of positions, induced a rural, a rusty, a quasi-extemporised old engine to work and saving the stream to flow, I had done myself a horrid even if obscure hurt;...
The deliberate obscurity of James' prose is certainly evident, I would hate to have to diagram a sentence with so many words in it. So, to get the picture, I forced myself to wonder what images James took for granted in his writing, such as the operation of an 1861 fire engine. I suspect that this is the crucial detail that has been omitted from James' account of his injury.
Early fire engines pumped water from an unpreasurized source (a pond, a well, a rain barrel) through a syphon into the hose. The pumps were worked by hand, usually by four or six men. (Detailed illustrations can be found through the Internet.) James also described the lay of the land rather poorly, saying only that he, or his engine, was set between two tall fences that met of at an angle of less than forty-five degrees; one can imply from the words "at a dire disadvantage of position" that he and his fellow firemen did not have an open range of movement to operate the pumps. James does paint a very clear image of the workings of his fire engine, using four verbs, including one compound word, to emphasize the difficulty of the action in which he was injured. So, it was while forcing a rusted lever to pull a piston, while standing in the wrong position, that he was injured.
I would want a weight lifting instructors opinion on this matter, if it where to be an authoritative theory on the nature of James' injury and impotence. That said, what I take away from James' account suggests that what he was doing may have caused a hernia in his groin. An injury obscure because of it's proximity to his privates. This ties in neatly with the mention that one of your sources made to the hypochondria of the James family, and the statement James made when he described his realization that he could not complain about his injury without it becoming a "matter of public exposition." Could Henry James have injured a muscle in his groin performing the action he described? Could he have born the pain without complaint, out of pure embarrassment? Could an herniated groin muscle have rendered him impotent, causing his genitals to shrink from lack of use, and generally rendering him into the asexual enigma which you and Mr. Ames wanted to decipher?
I find myself quite fascinated with this topic, and would be happy know your thoughts on the theory I have developed. The connection between James and Hemingway is also fascinating, considering the thematic importance they gave to the role of castration in American literature. The Victorian James using emotional castration as a metaphor for physical impotence; the Modern Hemingway using physical castration to describe emotional impotence.
Thank you for contributing your research to the public forum via the Internet.
Respectfully,
S. Michael Mannix
Washington, D. C.
If you have any thoughts on Mr. Mannix’s hernia theory, he and I would be delighted to hear them. Mr. Mannix can be reached at mrmannix@hotmail.com.
Tuesday, March 02, 2004
The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective)
welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com
In this edition of The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) you will find out the answer to this question:
Who was Henry James talking about when he wrote, “I will nurse you through your dark passage"?
But first, I’d like to post two recent emails I’ve received. The first refers both to CAAF’s request to find out why Edmund Wilson was called ‘Bunny’ and to the general speculation about Marcel Proust’s sexuality that has been bandied about here at The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective).
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
de rerum CAAF's question, doubtless someone's answered this already but 'Bunny' is actually a traditional nickname for 'Edmund' (obviously took a sharp decline in popularity, but still). I wondered about this as well. Also, I think it's pretty much accepted that Proust was way gay -- I've flipped through a couple biographies (Edmund White's, for example. hey, another Edmund!) but I can't recall any of the details. Except that his father sent him to a brothel to cure his 'excessive masturbation', but poor Marcel couldn't get it up and ended up breaking a chamber pot which he then had to pay for (and borrowed money to do so, I believe).
-S.
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
wonder if Hemingway, after his mum dressed him like a girl in his childhood, was
a cross-dresser later.
Regards
Paola
______________________________________________________
Dearest boy
Comment: Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
Personally, I think there's more than enough evidence from his letters to say that [Henry] James was totally infatuated with that Norwegian artist Anderson, and only a blind fool would suggest otherwise. – Peter J.
Response: In a subsequent email, Peter recommended that I look up Dearly Beloved Friends: Henry James’s Letters to Younger Men. Below is a letter from that wonderful book, written by James to Hendrik Anderson on February 9th, 1902:
“My dear, dear, dearest Hendrik,
Your news fills me with horror & pity, & how can I express the tenderness with wh: it makes me think of you & the aching wish to be near you & put my arms round you? My heart fairly bleeds & breaks at the vision of you alone, in your wicked & indifferent old far-off Rome, with this haunting, blighting, unbearable sorrow. The sense that I can’t help you, see you, talk to you, touch you, hold you close & long, or do anything to make you rest on my, & feel my deep participation – this torments me, dearest boy, makes my ache for you, & for myself; makes me gnash my teeth & groan at the bitterness of things. I can only take refuge in hoping you are not utterly alone, that some human tenderness of some sort, some kindly voice & hand are near you that may make a little the difference. What a dismal winter you must have had with this staggering blow as the climax! I don’t of course know what fragment of friendship there may be to draw near to you, & in my uncertainly my image of you is of the darkest, and my pity, as I say, feels so helpless. I wish I could go to Rome & put my hand on you (oh, how lovingly I should lay them!) but that, alas, is odiously impossible. (Not, moreover, that apart from you, I should so much as like to be there now.) I find myself thrown back on anxiously, & doubtless vainly, wondering if there may not, after a while, [be] some possibility of your coming to England, of the current of you trouble inevitably carrying you here – so that I might take consoling, soothing, infinitely close & tender & affectionately-healing possession of you. This is the one thought that relieves me about you a little - & I wish you might fix your eyes on it for the idea, just, of the possibility. I am in town for a few weeks, but return to Rye April 1ST, & sooner or later to have you there & do for you, to put my arm round you & make you lean on me as on a brother & a lover, & keep you on & on, slowly comforted or at least relieved of the bitterness of pain – this I try to imagine as thinkable, attainable, not wholly out of the question. There I am, at any rate, & there is my house & my garden & my table, & my studio – such as it is!-& your room, & your welcome, & your place everywhere - & I press them upon you, oh so earnestly, dearest boy, if isolation & grief & the worries you are overdone with become intolerable to you. There they are, I say – to fall upon, to rest upon, to find whatever possible shade of oblivion in. I will nurse you through your dark passage. I wish I could do something more – something straighter & nearer & more immediate; but such as it is please let it sink into you. Let all my tenderness, dearest boy, do that. This is all now. I wired you 3 words an hour ago. I can’t think of your sister-in-law – I brush her vision away and your history with your father, as I’ve feared it, has haunted me all winter. I embrace you with almost a passion of pity.
Henry James”
(Gunter, Susan E. and Steven H. Jobe eds. Dearly Beloved Friends: Henry James’s Letters to Younger Men. Susan E. Gunter, Steven H. Jobe Editors. Ann Arbor, The University of Michigan Press: 2001. p. 37-38)
If you’d like to learn more about Dearly Beloved Men, go to http://www.press.umich.edu/titles/11009.html.
welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com
In this edition of The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) you will find out the answer to this question:
Who was Henry James talking about when he wrote, “I will nurse you through your dark passage"?
But first, I’d like to post two recent emails I’ve received. The first refers both to CAAF’s request to find out why Edmund Wilson was called ‘Bunny’ and to the general speculation about Marcel Proust’s sexuality that has been bandied about here at The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective).
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
de rerum CAAF's question, doubtless someone's answered this already but 'Bunny' is actually a traditional nickname for 'Edmund' (obviously took a sharp decline in popularity, but still). I wondered about this as well. Also, I think it's pretty much accepted that Proust was way gay -- I've flipped through a couple biographies (Edmund White's, for example. hey, another Edmund!) but I can't recall any of the details. Except that his father sent him to a brothel to cure his 'excessive masturbation', but poor Marcel couldn't get it up and ended up breaking a chamber pot which he then had to pay for (and borrowed money to do so, I believe).
-S.
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
wonder if Hemingway, after his mum dressed him like a girl in his childhood, was
a cross-dresser later.
Regards
Paola
______________________________________________________
Dearest boy
Comment: Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
Personally, I think there's more than enough evidence from his letters to say that [Henry] James was totally infatuated with that Norwegian artist Anderson, and only a blind fool would suggest otherwise. – Peter J.
Response: In a subsequent email, Peter recommended that I look up Dearly Beloved Friends: Henry James’s Letters to Younger Men. Below is a letter from that wonderful book, written by James to Hendrik Anderson on February 9th, 1902:
“My dear, dear, dearest Hendrik,
Your news fills me with horror & pity, & how can I express the tenderness with wh: it makes me think of you & the aching wish to be near you & put my arms round you? My heart fairly bleeds & breaks at the vision of you alone, in your wicked & indifferent old far-off Rome, with this haunting, blighting, unbearable sorrow. The sense that I can’t help you, see you, talk to you, touch you, hold you close & long, or do anything to make you rest on my, & feel my deep participation – this torments me, dearest boy, makes my ache for you, & for myself; makes me gnash my teeth & groan at the bitterness of things. I can only take refuge in hoping you are not utterly alone, that some human tenderness of some sort, some kindly voice & hand are near you that may make a little the difference. What a dismal winter you must have had with this staggering blow as the climax! I don’t of course know what fragment of friendship there may be to draw near to you, & in my uncertainly my image of you is of the darkest, and my pity, as I say, feels so helpless. I wish I could go to Rome & put my hand on you (oh, how lovingly I should lay them!) but that, alas, is odiously impossible. (Not, moreover, that apart from you, I should so much as like to be there now.) I find myself thrown back on anxiously, & doubtless vainly, wondering if there may not, after a while, [be] some possibility of your coming to England, of the current of you trouble inevitably carrying you here – so that I might take consoling, soothing, infinitely close & tender & affectionately-healing possession of you. This is the one thought that relieves me about you a little - & I wish you might fix your eyes on it for the idea, just, of the possibility. I am in town for a few weeks, but return to Rye April 1ST, & sooner or later to have you there & do for you, to put my arm round you & make you lean on me as on a brother & a lover, & keep you on & on, slowly comforted or at least relieved of the bitterness of pain – this I try to imagine as thinkable, attainable, not wholly out of the question. There I am, at any rate, & there is my house & my garden & my table, & my studio – such as it is!-& your room, & your welcome, & your place everywhere - & I press them upon you, oh so earnestly, dearest boy, if isolation & grief & the worries you are overdone with become intolerable to you. There they are, I say – to fall upon, to rest upon, to find whatever possible shade of oblivion in. I will nurse you through your dark passage. I wish I could do something more – something straighter & nearer & more immediate; but such as it is please let it sink into you. Let all my tenderness, dearest boy, do that. This is all now. I wired you 3 words an hour ago. I can’t think of your sister-in-law – I brush her vision away and your history with your father, as I’ve feared it, has haunted me all winter. I embrace you with almost a passion of pity.
Henry James”
(Gunter, Susan E. and Steven H. Jobe eds. Dearly Beloved Friends: Henry James’s Letters to Younger Men. Susan E. Gunter, Steven H. Jobe Editors. Ann Arbor, The University of Michigan Press: 2001. p. 37-38)
If you’d like to learn more about Dearly Beloved Men, go to http://www.press.umich.edu/titles/11009.html.
Monday, March 01, 2004
The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective)
welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com
______________________________________________________________________
Mr. Nabokov & the Matter of Measurement
Comment: Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
I recently read "The Aspern Papers" (very quick and fun--actually about someone obsessed with finding the papers of a dead poet) and was struck by how asexual it was (though many critics have noted various male/female violation metaphors). I would recommend that you read Hemingway's "A Moveable Feast." Not only is it a gorgeous memoir of Paris in the '20s, but it includes a couple of chapters on his relationship with Fitzgerald, including an episode in which Fitzgerald shows him his penis in a cafe bathroom. – Karen H.
Response: Last things first. Several readers wrote to me with regards to A Moveable Feast after reading my essay on Henry James's testicle injury, an injury which fascinated both Hemingway and Fitzgerald. This essay can be found on Jonathanames.com. Anyway, you want proof that a lot of readers wrote in about A Moveable Feast? Here are two other examples:
“Have you read Hemmingway's "A Moveable Feast". There are loads of stories about Hemmingway and "Scott". In one of them Fitzgerald is worried about the size of his penis and so Hemmingway take him to the Louvre in Paris to show him some sculpture. Fitzgerald is happy to discover that all the works of art have really small penises. Happy Hunting.” – Adam P., Cheshire, England
“"What was Hemingway talking about when he told Fitzgerald, 'It is also a question of angle'?" Everyone knows M. Fitzgerald had a tiny penis and that Papa suggested he prop his lover on a pillow to achieve the appropriate angular momentum with which to overcome this limitation. A more interesting question: did Proust really masturbate while watching rats kill and eat one another?” –J.R.
If you are unfamiliar with A Moveable Feast, the extract below is from a chapter titled aptly, 'A Matter of Measurement’, in which Hemingway councils Fitzgerald, who is worried that he has a small penis:
““You’re perfectly fine,” I said. “You are O.K. There’s nothing wrong with you. You look at yourself form above and you look foreshortened. Go over to the Louvre and look at the people in the statues and then go home and look at yourself in the mirror in profile. […] It is not basically a question of the size in repose,” I said. “It is the size that it becomes. It is also a question of angle.” I explained to him about using a pillow and a few other things that might be useful for him to know.” (Hemingway, Ernest. A Moveable Feast. New York, Charles Scribner’s Sons: 1964. p. 190-191)
As for the first part of Karen’s email: I was reminded of Vladimir Nabokov’s quarrel with Edmund “Bunny” Wilson over James’s merits. Here is what Nabokov wrote about The Aspern Papers:
“Yesterday I read the Aspern Papers. No. He writes with a very sharp nib and the ink is very pale and there is very little of it in his inkpot. Incidentally he ought to have proved somehow that Aspern was a fine poet. The style is artistic but it is not the style of an artist. For instance: the man is smoking a cigar in the dark and another person sees the red tip from the window. Red tip makes one think of a red pencil or a dog licking itself, it is quite wrong when applied to the glow of a cigar in pitch-darkness because there is no “tip”; in fact the glow is blunt. But he thought of a cigar having a tip and than painted the tip red- rather like those false cigarettes - menthol sticks with the end made to look “embery” - that people who try to give up smoking are said to use. Henry James is definitely for non-smokers. He has charm (as the weak blond prose of Turgenev has), but that’s about all.”(Karlinksy, Simon ed. The Nabakov-Wilson Letters 1940-1971. New York, Harper & Row: 1979. p.52-53)
Nabokov's letter reads as if it were written by a cantankerous professor in a creative writing class. But what was the Lolita author really like? He seems a curious character. As one reader wrote in:
"What was Nabokov like to meet? I've always pictured him as sort of foreboding and commanding, but recently read something that painted him, at least as a young man, as extremely funny & charismatic. And why the f*** is Bunny Wilson called Bunny? Did he have long front teeth? A missing foot?" - CAAF
If you have any thoughts on the subject, please feel free to share them.
______________________________________________________________________
The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) has received the following queries, which I shall be attending to with vigor. Any leads you could provide me with in these matters would be appreciated greatly.
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
The sexual shenanigans that I can think of that I would most like investigating is the allegation that after Dickens married his wife (Miss Hogarth) he embarked on a long and unhealthy fascination with her younger, prettier sister. Last time I looked into it critics were divided on whether he ever sealed the deal or remained a dirty lecherous brother in law type. Any thoughts on this one?
-Jimmy G., Yorkshire, England
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
i heard that the founding fathers almost chose hebrew to be the national language for america, and furthermore, they were to write all the official government documents (bill of rights, constitution, etc) in hebrew too. i asked the heritage foundation, but they say no. i know that george washington was a mason, and they have been known to use the hebrew letters...but this is as close as i can figure.
thanks
maynard
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
What can you tell me about Melville's sex life? Seems like he liked guys a little too much for his own comfort? – Jordan D.
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
Bookslut recently linked to an interesting article in TLS. Unfortunately, it's no longer online, and I can't find another good source for this mystery. It's basically a question of whether Malcolm Lowry's death was simply from alcoholism or whether there was some level of foul play involved. I don't want to go into too much detail, because my memory may not be accurate, but the facts around the end of his life do seem odd; for instance, his wife seems to have encouraged him to drink again, although he had recently been in what we now call rehab. – Naomi D.
welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com
______________________________________________________________________
Mr. Nabokov & the Matter of Measurement
Comment: Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
I recently read "The Aspern Papers" (very quick and fun--actually about someone obsessed with finding the papers of a dead poet) and was struck by how asexual it was (though many critics have noted various male/female violation metaphors). I would recommend that you read Hemingway's "A Moveable Feast." Not only is it a gorgeous memoir of Paris in the '20s, but it includes a couple of chapters on his relationship with Fitzgerald, including an episode in which Fitzgerald shows him his penis in a cafe bathroom. – Karen H.
Response: Last things first. Several readers wrote to me with regards to A Moveable Feast after reading my essay on Henry James's testicle injury, an injury which fascinated both Hemingway and Fitzgerald. This essay can be found on Jonathanames.com. Anyway, you want proof that a lot of readers wrote in about A Moveable Feast? Here are two other examples:
“Have you read Hemmingway's "A Moveable Feast". There are loads of stories about Hemmingway and "Scott". In one of them Fitzgerald is worried about the size of his penis and so Hemmingway take him to the Louvre in Paris to show him some sculpture. Fitzgerald is happy to discover that all the works of art have really small penises. Happy Hunting.” – Adam P., Cheshire, England
“"What was Hemingway talking about when he told Fitzgerald, 'It is also a question of angle'?" Everyone knows M. Fitzgerald had a tiny penis and that Papa suggested he prop his lover on a pillow to achieve the appropriate angular momentum with which to overcome this limitation. A more interesting question: did Proust really masturbate while watching rats kill and eat one another?” –J.R.
If you are unfamiliar with A Moveable Feast, the extract below is from a chapter titled aptly, 'A Matter of Measurement’, in which Hemingway councils Fitzgerald, who is worried that he has a small penis:
““You’re perfectly fine,” I said. “You are O.K. There’s nothing wrong with you. You look at yourself form above and you look foreshortened. Go over to the Louvre and look at the people in the statues and then go home and look at yourself in the mirror in profile. […] It is not basically a question of the size in repose,” I said. “It is the size that it becomes. It is also a question of angle.” I explained to him about using a pillow and a few other things that might be useful for him to know.” (Hemingway, Ernest. A Moveable Feast. New York, Charles Scribner’s Sons: 1964. p. 190-191)
As for the first part of Karen’s email: I was reminded of Vladimir Nabokov’s quarrel with Edmund “Bunny” Wilson over James’s merits. Here is what Nabokov wrote about The Aspern Papers:
“Yesterday I read the Aspern Papers. No. He writes with a very sharp nib and the ink is very pale and there is very little of it in his inkpot. Incidentally he ought to have proved somehow that Aspern was a fine poet. The style is artistic but it is not the style of an artist. For instance: the man is smoking a cigar in the dark and another person sees the red tip from the window. Red tip makes one think of a red pencil or a dog licking itself, it is quite wrong when applied to the glow of a cigar in pitch-darkness because there is no “tip”; in fact the glow is blunt. But he thought of a cigar having a tip and than painted the tip red- rather like those false cigarettes - menthol sticks with the end made to look “embery” - that people who try to give up smoking are said to use. Henry James is definitely for non-smokers. He has charm (as the weak blond prose of Turgenev has), but that’s about all.”(Karlinksy, Simon ed. The Nabakov-Wilson Letters 1940-1971. New York, Harper & Row: 1979. p.52-53)
Nabokov's letter reads as if it were written by a cantankerous professor in a creative writing class. But what was the Lolita author really like? He seems a curious character. As one reader wrote in:
"What was Nabokov like to meet? I've always pictured him as sort of foreboding and commanding, but recently read something that painted him, at least as a young man, as extremely funny & charismatic. And why the f*** is Bunny Wilson called Bunny? Did he have long front teeth? A missing foot?" - CAAF
If you have any thoughts on the subject, please feel free to share them.
______________________________________________________________________
The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) has received the following queries, which I shall be attending to with vigor. Any leads you could provide me with in these matters would be appreciated greatly.
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
The sexual shenanigans that I can think of that I would most like investigating is the allegation that after Dickens married his wife (Miss Hogarth) he embarked on a long and unhealthy fascination with her younger, prettier sister. Last time I looked into it critics were divided on whether he ever sealed the deal or remained a dirty lecherous brother in law type. Any thoughts on this one?
-Jimmy G., Yorkshire, England
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
i heard that the founding fathers almost chose hebrew to be the national language for america, and furthermore, they were to write all the official government documents (bill of rights, constitution, etc) in hebrew too. i asked the heritage foundation, but they say no. i know that george washington was a mason, and they have been known to use the hebrew letters...but this is as close as i can figure.
thanks
maynard
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
What can you tell me about Melville's sex life? Seems like he liked guys a little too much for his own comfort? – Jordan D.
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
Bookslut recently linked to an interesting article in TLS. Unfortunately, it's no longer online, and I can't find another good source for this mystery. It's basically a question of whether Malcolm Lowry's death was simply from alcoholism or whether there was some level of foul play involved. I don't want to go into too much detail, because my memory may not be accurate, but the facts around the end of his life do seem odd; for instance, his wife seems to have encouraged him to drink again, although he had recently been in what we now call rehab. – Naomi D.
Sunday, February 29, 2004
The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective)
welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com
________________________________________________________________________
Staying up late at the Chelsea Hotel
Question: Did Jack Kerouac really have sex with Gore Vidal? – Bryan
Answer: Yes. Kerouac was in Mexico City on May 18, 1952, when he wrote dismissively of Vidal to Allen Ginsberg:
“However, I got very tired blowing all that poetry and am now resting and getting hi and going to the movies etc. and trying to read Gore Vidal’s “Judgment of Paris” which is so uglily transparent in its method, the protagonist-hero who is unqueer but all camp (with his bloody tattoo on a thigh) and craptalk, the only thing good, as Bill says, are the satirical queer scenes, especially Lord Ayres or whatever his name . . . and they expect us to like Vidal, great god. (Regressing to sophomore imitations of Henry James.)” (Charters, Ann ed.,intro.,com. Jack Kerouac: Selected Letters 1940-1956. Viking: 1995. p. 357)
Four years later, Kerouac wrote to Sterling Lord with regards to his novel-in-progress, The Subterraneans:
“And Oh almost forgot, Tell Don Allen that Subterraneans is already libel-safe & fixed […] Perhaps the only libelous point is “Arial Lavalina,” a perhaps recognizable portrait of Gore Vidal” (Ibid., p. 590)
The Subterraneans was published in 1958. In the excerpt below, Leo Percepied (the narrator), is with his girlfriend Mardou, when he sees “the famous young writer” Arial Lavalina:
“When Mardou came I said whispering gleefully “This is Arial Lavalina ain’t that mad!” – “Yeh man but I want to go home.” […] I just goofed and said “But wait, you go home and wait for me, I want to dig Arial and then I’ll be home.” […] and [I] sit with them [Arial and Carmody, a writer based on William Burroughs] and drink further – repairing the three of us to 13 Pater a lesbian joint down Columbus, Carmody, high, leaving us to go enjoy it, and we sitting in there, further beers, the horror the unspeakable horror of myself suddenly finding in myself a kind of perhaps William Blake or Crazy Jane or really Christopher Smart alcoholic humility grabbing and kissing Arial’s hand and exclaiming “Oh Arial you dear – you are going to be – you are so famous – you wrote so well- I remember you-what-“ whatever and now unrememberable and drunkenness, and there he is a well-known and perfectly obvious homosexual of the first water, my roaring brain- we go to his suite in some hotel- I wake up in the morning on the couch, filled with the first horror recognition, “I didn’t go back to Mardou’s at all” ” (Kerouac, Jack. The Subterraneans. Originally published 1958. This edition, with intro. by Gerald Nicosia. New York, Grove Press, Inc.: 1981. p.72-74)
Reading the above it is possible to assert that a sexual encounter between Leo and Avrial is implied, but that after it, Leo was relegated to the couch. I don’t think that’s what’s going on, but it could be read that way. In any event, Gore Vidal set the record straight in the November 1, 1970 issue of the Partisan Review:
“I have usually found that whenever I read about an occasion where I was present, the report (except once) never tallies with my own. The once was Jack Kerouac’s The Subteraneans in which he describes with – to my mind (for what that sieved instrument is worth) – astonishing accuracy an evening spent with William Burroughs and me. Everything is perfectly recalled until the crucial moment when Jack and I went to bed together at the Chelsea Hotel and, as he told me later, disingenuously, ‘I forgot.’ I said he had not. ‘Well maybe I wanted to.’ So much for the tell-it-like-it-is school.” (Vidal, Gore. ‘All Our Lives’. Partisan Review, November 1, 1970:p. 34-35)
So yes, it is the Literary Dick's opinion that Jack Kerouac did sleep with Gore Vidal.
________________________________________________________________________
Thanks very much to everyone who wrote in with their comments about The Case of The Dirty Coffee Table. Below are three messages of particular interest.
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
Back in college, a friend of mine told me about an interview with Lou Reed in which the urban poet-rocker claimed his favorite sexual fantasy was watching his lover through a glass table while she (it might have been he) defecated over him. Perhaps he credited Joyce, though surely my friend would have mentioned this. This would stand to reason because Reed is A) a Joyce-loving English major from Syracuse, and B) far less original in general than he is credited for (even by his own admission). So, assuming he really said it, what were his motives?
I understand this is the merest trifle compared with the big cracks you have to case, I mean cases you have to crack, but I just thought I would drop this on you anyway. Also, though Reed is probably outside your jursidiction, he was briefly embraced by the St. Mark's Poetry Project scenesters before returning to rocking. I'm no poet, so I can't tell you if his poetry is sh**ty.
Finally, I have a request. Like many, I'm sure, I have often wonderd about the nature of Marcel Proust's sexuality. While I know of no rumors, nor have I even read a biography for the essential facts, maybe you could investigate him sometime?
Keep up the good work and all the best,
John S.
________________________________________________________________________
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
The following excerpt from Brenda Maddox's tremendous biography of Joyce's wife, Nora, might prove helpful:
"During the short time Joyce was in Trieste between journeys, from September 13 to October 18, 1909, he and Nora had resumed their sexual relations, with him even more insistent than before that there be no veil of shame between them. He began to extract from Nora some of the exercises of which he had dreamed during their summer's separation. He taught her to make what he called 'filthy signs' and 'whorish gestures' to excite him. His demands did not stop there. He persuaded her to defecate while he lay under her and watched. Nora was too embarrassed to look at him afterwards. Even her embarrassment pleased him.
Joyce had what H.G. Wells later called a cloacal obsession. Cloaca means sewer in Latin. Somewhere between his training at the hands of his mother and his experience at Clongowes Wood, where he was afraid of wetting the bed and bullies could push him into the cold slime of the "square ditch" (the cesspit), Joyce came to find everything connected with excretion unusually pleasurable. Moreover, if the Freudian view be taken -- that the unconscious associates defecation with spending money or with childbirth -- Joyce had formidable influences within his own home. His father's wild extravagance was the very opposite of anal retentiveness; Joyce himself linked his father's "spendthrift habits" with his own and with "any creativity I might possess." As for his fertile mother, fat brown things popped from her body with a regularity that must have awed her impressionable eldest child."
Excerpted from page 102
As for the glass table scenario, I don't believe such an instrument would have been employed in this fantasy. James and Nora was very poor during this period of their life together, and frequently moved from one cheap furnished apartment to the next, often to avoid creditors and landlords. A glass coffee table would not have been an accouterment of a dwelling place they could afford. I have, however, heard this story associated with the singer James Brown.
Regards,
Jim R.
________________________________________________________________________
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
My girlfriend and I once put our pet hedgehog on a plexiglass table and filmed her from below eating worms and defecating. Hoorah for the Joyces. - The Anonymous, Brooklyn
________________________________________________________________________
Again, thanks to everyone who wrote in. If you have any theories as to why James Joyce, Lou Reed, and James Brown share their common interest, we here at the Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) would be eager to hear them.
welcomes questions about literary mysteries and scandals, which should be sent to: woodyswoody@hotmail.com. The Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) is published by Jonathanames.com
________________________________________________________________________
Staying up late at the Chelsea Hotel
Question: Did Jack Kerouac really have sex with Gore Vidal? – Bryan
Answer: Yes. Kerouac was in Mexico City on May 18, 1952, when he wrote dismissively of Vidal to Allen Ginsberg:
“However, I got very tired blowing all that poetry and am now resting and getting hi and going to the movies etc. and trying to read Gore Vidal’s “Judgment of Paris” which is so uglily transparent in its method, the protagonist-hero who is unqueer but all camp (with his bloody tattoo on a thigh) and craptalk, the only thing good, as Bill says, are the satirical queer scenes, especially Lord Ayres or whatever his name . . . and they expect us to like Vidal, great god. (Regressing to sophomore imitations of Henry James.)” (Charters, Ann ed.,intro.,com. Jack Kerouac: Selected Letters 1940-1956. Viking: 1995. p. 357)
Four years later, Kerouac wrote to Sterling Lord with regards to his novel-in-progress, The Subterraneans:
“And Oh almost forgot, Tell Don Allen that Subterraneans is already libel-safe & fixed […] Perhaps the only libelous point is “Arial Lavalina,” a perhaps recognizable portrait of Gore Vidal” (Ibid., p. 590)
The Subterraneans was published in 1958. In the excerpt below, Leo Percepied (the narrator), is with his girlfriend Mardou, when he sees “the famous young writer” Arial Lavalina:
“When Mardou came I said whispering gleefully “This is Arial Lavalina ain’t that mad!” – “Yeh man but I want to go home.” […] I just goofed and said “But wait, you go home and wait for me, I want to dig Arial and then I’ll be home.” […] and [I] sit with them [Arial and Carmody, a writer based on William Burroughs] and drink further – repairing the three of us to 13 Pater a lesbian joint down Columbus, Carmody, high, leaving us to go enjoy it, and we sitting in there, further beers, the horror the unspeakable horror of myself suddenly finding in myself a kind of perhaps William Blake or Crazy Jane or really Christopher Smart alcoholic humility grabbing and kissing Arial’s hand and exclaiming “Oh Arial you dear – you are going to be – you are so famous – you wrote so well- I remember you-what-“ whatever and now unrememberable and drunkenness, and there he is a well-known and perfectly obvious homosexual of the first water, my roaring brain- we go to his suite in some hotel- I wake up in the morning on the couch, filled with the first horror recognition, “I didn’t go back to Mardou’s at all” ” (Kerouac, Jack. The Subterraneans. Originally published 1958. This edition, with intro. by Gerald Nicosia. New York, Grove Press, Inc.: 1981. p.72-74)
Reading the above it is possible to assert that a sexual encounter between Leo and Avrial is implied, but that after it, Leo was relegated to the couch. I don’t think that’s what’s going on, but it could be read that way. In any event, Gore Vidal set the record straight in the November 1, 1970 issue of the Partisan Review:
“I have usually found that whenever I read about an occasion where I was present, the report (except once) never tallies with my own. The once was Jack Kerouac’s The Subteraneans in which he describes with – to my mind (for what that sieved instrument is worth) – astonishing accuracy an evening spent with William Burroughs and me. Everything is perfectly recalled until the crucial moment when Jack and I went to bed together at the Chelsea Hotel and, as he told me later, disingenuously, ‘I forgot.’ I said he had not. ‘Well maybe I wanted to.’ So much for the tell-it-like-it-is school.” (Vidal, Gore. ‘All Our Lives’. Partisan Review, November 1, 1970:p. 34-35)
So yes, it is the Literary Dick's opinion that Jack Kerouac did sleep with Gore Vidal.
________________________________________________________________________
Thanks very much to everyone who wrote in with their comments about The Case of The Dirty Coffee Table. Below are three messages of particular interest.
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
Back in college, a friend of mine told me about an interview with Lou Reed in which the urban poet-rocker claimed his favorite sexual fantasy was watching his lover through a glass table while she (it might have been he) defecated over him. Perhaps he credited Joyce, though surely my friend would have mentioned this. This would stand to reason because Reed is A) a Joyce-loving English major from Syracuse, and B) far less original in general than he is credited for (even by his own admission). So, assuming he really said it, what were his motives?
I understand this is the merest trifle compared with the big cracks you have to case, I mean cases you have to crack, but I just thought I would drop this on you anyway. Also, though Reed is probably outside your jursidiction, he was briefly embraced by the St. Mark's Poetry Project scenesters before returning to rocking. I'm no poet, so I can't tell you if his poetry is sh**ty.
Finally, I have a request. Like many, I'm sure, I have often wonderd about the nature of Marcel Proust's sexuality. While I know of no rumors, nor have I even read a biography for the essential facts, maybe you could investigate him sometime?
Keep up the good work and all the best,
John S.
________________________________________________________________________
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
The following excerpt from Brenda Maddox's tremendous biography of Joyce's wife, Nora, might prove helpful:
"During the short time Joyce was in Trieste between journeys, from September 13 to October 18, 1909, he and Nora had resumed their sexual relations, with him even more insistent than before that there be no veil of shame between them. He began to extract from Nora some of the exercises of which he had dreamed during their summer's separation. He taught her to make what he called 'filthy signs' and 'whorish gestures' to excite him. His demands did not stop there. He persuaded her to defecate while he lay under her and watched. Nora was too embarrassed to look at him afterwards. Even her embarrassment pleased him.
Joyce had what H.G. Wells later called a cloacal obsession. Cloaca means sewer in Latin. Somewhere between his training at the hands of his mother and his experience at Clongowes Wood, where he was afraid of wetting the bed and bullies could push him into the cold slime of the "square ditch" (the cesspit), Joyce came to find everything connected with excretion unusually pleasurable. Moreover, if the Freudian view be taken -- that the unconscious associates defecation with spending money or with childbirth -- Joyce had formidable influences within his own home. His father's wild extravagance was the very opposite of anal retentiveness; Joyce himself linked his father's "spendthrift habits" with his own and with "any creativity I might possess." As for his fertile mother, fat brown things popped from her body with a regularity that must have awed her impressionable eldest child."
Excerpted from page 102
As for the glass table scenario, I don't believe such an instrument would have been employed in this fantasy. James and Nora was very poor during this period of their life together, and frequently moved from one cheap furnished apartment to the next, often to avoid creditors and landlords. A glass coffee table would not have been an accouterment of a dwelling place they could afford. I have, however, heard this story associated with the singer James Brown.
Regards,
Jim R.
________________________________________________________________________
Dear Literary Dick (as in Private Detective),
My girlfriend and I once put our pet hedgehog on a plexiglass table and filmed her from below eating worms and defecating. Hoorah for the Joyces. - The Anonymous, Brooklyn
________________________________________________________________________
Again, thanks to everyone who wrote in. If you have any theories as to why James Joyce, Lou Reed, and James Brown share their common interest, we here at the Literary Dick (as in Private Detective) would be eager to hear them.
