Carol Presents Maxwell Perkins

Jacquie's Email Hello Literary Ladies! Just a quick reminder on this, our last day of the Biden Administration, that The Literature Club of Hastings-on-Hudson will be gathering this Wednesday, January 22nd, for Carol Barkinʼs presentation, “Letters from the Editor: Maxwell Perkins.” This week's meeting will be at Lori Walshʼs lovely home. We will begin at noon with what Iʼm sure will be a tasty and gracious spread that may or may not be called lunch. Joanna will ring the bell a bit earlier to begin our meeting at 12:45pm since, like Max and Ernest above, many members of our group will be going on a field trip afterwards, and it would be helpful if they could leave a bit earlier than usual. There are still seats available in either Sharon or Kathyʼs car to drive to New Roc for a 3:55pm showing of “Sing Sing,” so please let the ladies know if you would like to join in the fun.

I think thatʼs all the change I can handle for one day. My how our group continues to evolve! I look forward to seeing you there! x Jacquie 

Christine's Minutes January 22nd, 2025 was a very chilly day, due to the dry, low-level Arctic airmass hovering over the area, when twelve members and one associate gathered in Lori’s warm and inviting house.

The red lentil soup was a winner, as was the lemon olive cake Laura made so we could celebrate our two members who turned 80 last year, Barbara and Carol. Yes, I know it is hard to believe they have attained such an elegant senescence but believe it we must.

Under the heading of “Things You Did Not Expect to Learn at Literature Club,” this fact must be included: you can use chickpea juice (called aquafaba) to substitute for egg whites. Seriously. You can make meringues with it.

Our honorable president Joanna, arrived in the nick of time, directly from the Marthaʼs Vineyard ferry, and was able to start the meeting at the proper time.

The minutes of the previous meeting were read and accepted.

The treasury remains the same at $248.06

Two books were recommended by members: Shakespeare: The Man who Pays the Rent by Dame Judi Dench and Newton and the Counterfeiter by Thomas Levenson

Then we were off to an early start for Carol Barkin’s program on Letters from the Editor.

Maxwell Perkins. Unlike most of our subjects thus far this year, no, all our subjects, Perkins was not an author. He was, however, the most admired editor of the first half of the twentieth century, and edited books by F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, Thomas Wolfe, Ring Lardner, Erskine Caldwell, Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, Edmund Wilson, Alan Paton and James Jones. Too many to list. The editorial hand of Perkins rests on many of the books we all know and love, many of them considered classics. We know that most masterpieces do not emerge fully formed from the authorial typewriter, so what exactly did Perkins do that was so brilliant and effective?

As an editor and an author, Carol has long known about Perkins and his remarkable career and was curious to know more about him and his relationships with his authors.

Perkins was born in 1884 and grew up in Plainfield, New Jersey. He attended St Paul’s in New Hampshire, and then Harvard. But he was not “to the manner/manor born.” He worked through his summers and had a horror of being patronized by his rich classmates, to the extent that he declined an invitation to a friendʼs summer house because he could not afford to tip the butler. I am sure we can all sympathize.

At Harvard, he majored in economics, which he later regretted. A writing course with the actor, Charles Copeland, set him on the path of literature. Max later said that in Copeland’s classes he developed his editorial instincts. He wrote to him: “…you did more good than all the rest of Harvard out together.”

After graduating in 1907, Max’s first job was teaching English to immigrants. He then spent a year at The New York Times before joining Scribnerʼs, in their advertising department, in 1909. By 1910 he had joined the editorial department, and Max remained at Scribners for all his working life.

In 1910 he also married Louise Sanders. They were very much in love, but they also argued from the start. Still, they managed to have five daughters between 1911 and 1917, and Max often wrote to his daughters from the office. His eldest daughter Bertha (Aka Bert) collected those letters in a book, Father to Daughter, from which we read, and gleaned an idea of his charm as well as his deep empathy for his authors.

Max Perkins’ acute literary judgment quite literally revolutionized American literature. In a 1946 lecture to aspiring editor, Max identified his own guidelines in dealing with authors: he was emotionally careful, and a handmaiden to the writer; he often offered both emotional and psychological support; he wrote constantly to his writers, about books he’d read, other authors, society in general; he helped with structure, plot and title, but he believed that the “the book belongs to the author.”

In fact, Max wrote so many letters to so many writers, that Carol had to focus on one specific correspondence, between Max Perkins and F. Scott Fitzgerald.

The Scribner’s Max had joined in 1909 was a second-generation family business, a most genteel and tradition-encrusted publishing house. But such was not Max’s vision; by 1918 he realized that their list needed some creativity. When Scribner’s received a mss. from FSF, it was disliked by all the senior editors. It finally made its way to Max who saw in it “so much vitality.” They passed on the mss. but Max sent his comments to FSF, who then revised it, and brought it back. Again, it was voted down, but then FSF came to speak personally with Max, who suggested he rewrite the novel in the third person, rather than the first.

The result was This Side of Paradise. The older editors were still unenthusiastic, but Max convinced them that their first allegiance must be to talent, and pointed out that FSF would go elsewhere, and other young writers would follow him.

At last, Max sent a special delivery letter to Fitzgerald, accepting the novel. It was published in the spring of 1920.

FSF was selling stories to the Saturday Evening Post, for $500, as well as the serial rights for This Side of Paradise for $7000. Still, he had an expensive lifestyle and borrowed fairly large sums from Scribner’s. Then, This Side of Paradise received good reviews and sold 20,000 books.

In April 1921 FSF had completed The Beautiful and Damned. He borrowed $600 for 2 tickets to Europe. By this time Max was acting as FSF’s financial overseer, as FSF rarely even knew how much money he owed Scribner’s.

After a lengthy and fascinating exchange over changing the word “Godalmighty” for “Deity”, Max wrote to FSF: “Don’t ever defer to my judgment.” The Beautiful and Damned came out in 1922; it sold fairly well but was not the great success they had hoped for. At the same time, ScribnerThe s published his collections of stories, Flappers and Philosophers in 1920, and Tales of the Jazz Age in 1922.

By 1924, editor and writer were calling each Max and Scott.

Members read many letters chronicling the history of this brilliant editor and his brilliant author. We were taken through the introduction of Hemingway, the publication and success of The Great Gatsby, the rocky times with Zelda, the publication of Tender is the Night. Throughout it all, there is thoughtfulness, excellent advice, deep friendship, as well as financial aid.

By 1932, Max was editor in chief at Scribnerʼs. These minutes cannot list all the iconic writers he nurtured and edited and published.

When FSF died of a heart attack in 1940, at the age of 44, Max was of the few people at his funeral.

The story of Maxwell Perkins, the editor who shaped American literature, continued for a few more years. He died in 1947, at the age of 62.

Over the course of the afternoon, these letters—and Carol’s explanations and choices—gave us a glimpse into one of the most remarkable editor-author relationships in literary history.

Then as we were winding up, in another Literature Club first, several members left promptly at 3 pm for a field trip to see the movie Sing Sing at Jacob Burns. Await the reviews.

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner, Recording Secretary

 

Diana Presents Kurt Vonnegut

Jacquie's Email: Hello Literary Ladies! It feels like a year since we've been together, and what a year it has been already! There's something about avoiding the news that just makes me want to curl up with a good diverting and soul-nourishing book, which I did! Ann Patchett's Annotated Bel Canto was the perfect book for soul-nourishing, and I'd highly recommend it. What's so much fun, besides re-reading a gorgeous favorite, is you're not reading alone. Ann is right there beside you, enjoying the very best passages, explaining where she was when writing certain bits, what her inspirations were (“I called my friend Renee Fleming...”), and editing out unnecessary words so you don't have to. She hysterically admonishes herself for bad metaphors, long descriptions that could have been better expressed with fewer words, and repeated descriptions to the point of ridiculousness, (i.e. hair smells: “...alas.”) And being able to hold her hand as you brace for that shocking ending, well, it's quite an experience.

Apologies if I have taken advantage of my role as corresponding secretary and a captive audience to gush about my latest favorite read. (And I also apologize to those who would have named Bel Canto as a book they haven't read in Joanna's Books I Haven't Read Game.)

I am actually writing to remind you all that the first meeting of 2025 of the Literature Club of Hastings-on-Hudson will be this Wednesday, January 8th, at Kathy Sullivanʼs art-filled home. We will gather at noon for a good chat and whatever-we-are-now-calling-the-refreshments-served-by-our-hostess. Joanna will ring the bell at 1PM for our meeting after which Diana Jaeger will be presenting on the letters of Kurt Vonnegut.

I also wish to remind all of our Associate Members that you are invited to each and every one of our meetings. We would love to see you, join us in conversation, and enjoy our marvelous presentations together. Sharing is what our Club is all about and you are most welcome. All we ask is that you let our hostess know that you are attending so they can be sure to put out the correct number of chairs. You can contact the hostess directly or write to me and I will let them know you are coming.

Unfortunately, I will not be able to make this week's meeting. I'm so sorry to miss all of you as well as Diana's take on the Vonnegut letters. I read his love letters and found them charming and surprising. Thank goodness I have Christineʼs minutes to look forward to for the re-cap!

I also look forward to seeing you all on the 22nd. Have a glorious meeting! Love you madly! Jacquie

Christine's Minutes On a chilly January 8, 2025, ten members and two associates, including the elusive Mary Lemons, gathered at Kathy Sullivan’s warm and cozy house. While this secretary has resolved to cease mentioning food in these minutes, this resolution must be broken for the Sinclair Lewis Main Street Chicken Salad, a winner in both culinary and literary circles. And while we are breaking resolves, the pastries from Hastings new patisserie, Aromé, were beautiful and delicious.

For better or worse, the $60 million bond currently proposed by the Hastings School Board dominated the pre-meeting chatter.

Members recommended some books: The Mighty Red, Louise Erdrich; The Talented Mrs. Mandelbaum, Margalit Fox; The Bad-Ass Librarians of Timbuktu, Joshua Hammer; The Best Minds, Jonathan Rosen (about a murder in Hastings); Year of the Child, Niall Williams; Enlightenment, Sara Perry.

Absent both our President and Vice-President, Connie valiantly stepped into the breach and ably saw that things did not fall apart, the center did hold. She rang the bell—yes, even a substitute bell was procured—and thanked Kathy for our excellent repast.

The minutes of our previous meeting were read and accepted.

The treasury remained at a respectable $248.06.

There being no other business, we proceeded directly to our program of the day, Diana Jaegar’s presentation on the Letters of Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

It was mere serendipity. Last year Diana came upon a collection of Vonnegut’s letters from the 1940s to the 1970s, edited and introduced by Dan Wakefield, and thereupon decided on her topic.

On November 11, 1922, Vonnegut was born into a large and prosperous family, the youngest of three children. His father, Kurt Vonnegut Sr, was a prominent architect, and his mother was heir to a local brewery. But then came the Depression and Prohibition, and the family fortunes changed for the worse. They had to sell their home, and young Kurt had to leave his private school. His mother became addicted to alcohol and drugs, and upon her death, Kurt Sr moved to a cabin in the woods. Clearly, Vonnegut’s lifelong struggle with depression did not fall far from the tree.

But he did do well in school and went to Cornell. His father and older brother wanted him to study something useful, but his heart wasn’t in biochemistry. He loved journalism and became managing editor of Cornell’s daily student paper.

The summer after his freshman year, Vonnegut reconnected with some old friends, including Jane Cox. They shared a passion for social justice, the arts, and each other. But then off she went to Swarthmore—and we have this separation to thank for the tonnage of effusive love letters, “Dear Woofy, darling, sugarfoot, sweet, angelface.” He asked Jane to marry him (repeatedly) and said he wanted to have seven children with her.

But then in 1943 he enlisted in the army (better that than being drafted). Basic training was a mere 35 miles from home, a car, and thus visits to Jane Cox. In May 1944, Kurt and his sister found their mother dead; she had committed suicide.

When Kurt next proposed to Jane, she again said no, BUT agreed to wait for him when he went off to combat. He was sent to Europe in December of 1944 and fought in the bloody Battle of the Bulge. As an advance scout on the front line, Vonnegut and his group were quickly captured by the Germans and sent to Dresden as POWs. By sheer luck, the POWs survived the Allied bombing because they were housed in an underground meat locker and slaughterhouse. It was this experience that led to his masterpiece, Slaughterhouse-Five.

In 1945, Kurt and Jane married and moved to Chicago. When Jane became pregnant, Kurt realized he would have a family to support, and with his brother’s help, he got a job with GE in Syracuse. But he kept writing. Jane was a huge supporter of his work, and did almost everything for him, except typing his manuscripts.

For his first short story, “Report on the Barnhouse Effect,” Vonnegut was paid $750 by Collier’s. His next story sold for $950, and he was soon able to quit his job and move to Cape Cod. Then came more children, and the books. His first novel, Player Piano, was published in1952 and sold well. Still, he was always needing to make more money. When his sister’s four boys were orphaned following their parents’ very untimely deaths, Vonnegut drove to New Jersey, collected the four boys. They raised the three oldest, while the youngest went to relatives in Georgia.

Vonnegut kept writing novels, including Cat’s Cradle and God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater, with limited financial success. There was a brief and fruitless attempt at managing a Saab dealership. In the mid 1960s, at a low point in his writing career, Vonnegut received an offer to teach at the Iowa Writers Workshop. It was a saving grace. Though he did have an affair with a student, Loree Rackstraw, and single mother and writer, and they remained friends for life.

Then came a Guggenheim fellowship, a teaching post at Harvard, and Slaughter-Five. Kurt was 47 years old, and this was his first major success, and the source of “So it goes.” In 1972, a film version was produced. By then Vonnegut was one of the most famous writers on the planet. But at home, things were falling apart. In 1971, he left his home and his marriage, moved to New York, and suffered from writer’s block. His next two books, Breakfast of Champions and Slapstick, addressed the theme of the disintegration of families.

While being photographed during the production of his play Happy Birthday, Wanda, Vonnegut met Jill Krementz, the famous photographer. By 1973, they moved in together, and in 1977 they bought a house in Sagaponack. It was a tumultuous marriage, but they stayed together because of their adopted child, Lily, born in 1982.

Vonnegut stayed busy, working for PEN and always speaking out for writers’ freedoms. He died in 2007, after falling on the steps of his New York brownstone.

Diana treated us to a wide and entertaining selection his letters, starting with Vonnegut’s love letters to Jane Cox, then his letter outlining his promises to do better as a house-husband; we also read letters to his father, and war-time letters about his experiences at Slaughterhouse Five; some letters were filled with good advice for young friends and writers; there were several letters to his children, as well as the ACLU. He never stopped being fully engaged and engaging. It was a wild ride, and a lovely afternoon. “If this isn’t nice, what is?”

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner, Recording Secretary