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In Dreams Begin Responsibilities and Other Stories
This is the first British publication of a seminal work of twentieth century fiction, rediscovering Delmore Schwartz for a new generation of readers.
Delmore Schwartz became the voice of a new generation, when In Dreams Begin Responsibilities was published in the debut issue of 'Partisan Review' in 1937. His influence on other writers was immediate and is still enormous; he was an unfluence on Philip Roth and Saul Bellow, whose Humboldt's Gift is a fictionalised account of Bellow's own relationship with Schwartz.
Delmore Schwartz is the only writer to be memorialised in a song by Lou Reed and also in one of John Berryman's Dream Songs. Despite his early promise and achievement Delmore Schwartz died destitute in a New York hotel in 1966.
In Dreams Begin Responsibilities and Other Stories collects eight of Schwartz's finest stories; including the seminal In Dreams Begin Responsibilities , the foundation for all post-World War Two American-Jewish fiction. Delmore Schwartz found a vernacular language for the generational conflicts and self-analysis of educated and ambitious young people in conflict with their immigrant parents that is still captivating.
Delmore Schwartz became the voice of a new generation, when In Dreams Begin Responsibilities was published in the debut issue of 'Partisan Review' in 1937. His influence on other writers was immediate and is still enormous; he was an unfluence on Philip Roth and Saul Bellow, whose Humboldt's Gift is a fictionalised account of Bellow's own relationship with Schwartz.
Delmore Schwartz is the only writer to be memorialised in a song by Lou Reed and also in one of John Berryman's Dream Songs. Despite his early promise and achievement Delmore Schwartz died destitute in a New York hotel in 1966.
In Dreams Begin Responsibilities and Other Stories collects eight of Schwartz's finest stories; including the seminal In Dreams Begin Responsibilities , the foundation for all post-World War Two American-Jewish fiction. Delmore Schwartz found a vernacular language for the generational conflicts and self-analysis of educated and ambitious young people in conflict with their immigrant parents that is still captivating.
224 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1938
105 people are currently reading
3163 people want to read
About the author
Delmore Schwartz
49 books104 followersDelmore Schwartz was born December 8, 1913, in Brooklyn. The marriage of his parents Harry and Rose, both Roumanian immigrants, was doomed to fail. Sadly, this misfortune with relationships was also a theme in Schwartz's life. His alcoholism, frequent use of barbiturates and amphetamines, and battles with various mental diseases, proved adverse in his relationships with women. His first marriage to Gertrude Buckman lasted six years; his second, to the young novelist Elizabeth Pollett, ended after his ceaseless paranoid accusations of adultery led him to attack an art critic with whom he believed Elizabeth was having an affair.
Despite his turbulent and unsettling home life as a child, Schwartz was a gifted and intellectual young student. He enrolled early at Columbia University, and also studied at the University of Wisconsin, eventually receiving his bachelor's degree in 1935 in philosophy from New York University. In 1936 he won the Bowdoin Prize in the Humanities for his essay "Poetry as Imitation." In 1937 his short story "In Dreams Begin Responsibilities" (successfully written in one month during the summer of 1935 after he locked himself in his Greenwich Village apartment) was published in Partisan Review, a left-wing magazine of American politics and culture; the following year this short story would be published by New Directions with other poetry and prose in his first book-length work, also titled In Dreams Begin Responsibilities. It was praised by many, including T.S. Eliot, William Carlos Williams, Ezra Pound, Robert Lowell, and Vladimir Nabokov.
He never finished his advanced degree in philosophy at Harvard, but was hired as the Briggs-Copeland Lecturer, and later given an Assistant Professorship. Frustrated by what he believed was a sense of anti-Semitism within the school, in 1947 Schwartz ended his twelve-year association with Harvard and returned to New York City. His book of short stories The World is a Wedding was published the following year. Time compared Schwartz to Stendhal and Anton Chekhov. By this same time his work was widely anthologized. He was publishing critical essays on other important literary figures and cultural topics, and was the poetry editor at Partisan Review, and later also at New Republic.
His increasingly itinerant nature left him dependent on a series of teaching positions at Bennington College, Kenyon College, Princeton University, the writer's colony Yaddo, and at Syracuse University, in his last years. Among others, he inspired the student Lou Reed, who later dedicated "European Son" on the Velvet Underground's first album to Schwartz. In 1960 Schwartz became the youngest poet ever to win the Bollingen Prize. His friend Saul Bellow wrote a semi-fictional memoir about Schwartz called Humboldt's Gift, which won the Pulitzer Prize.
The last years of his life Schwartz was a solitary, disheveled figure in New York. He drank frequently at the White Horse Tavern, and spent his time sitting in parks and collecting bits of work, quotes, and translations in his journal. Finding himself penniless and virtually friendless, in the summer of 1966 Schwartz checked into the Times Squares hotel, perhaps to focus on his writing. Unfortunately by this time his body had been taxed by years of drug and alcohol abuse. He worked continuously until a heart attack on July 11 seized him in the lobby of the hotel.
________________________________________
Source: poets.org
Despite his turbulent and unsettling home life as a child, Schwartz was a gifted and intellectual young student. He enrolled early at Columbia University, and also studied at the University of Wisconsin, eventually receiving his bachelor's degree in 1935 in philosophy from New York University. In 1936 he won the Bowdoin Prize in the Humanities for his essay "Poetry as Imitation." In 1937 his short story "In Dreams Begin Responsibilities" (successfully written in one month during the summer of 1935 after he locked himself in his Greenwich Village apartment) was published in Partisan Review, a left-wing magazine of American politics and culture; the following year this short story would be published by New Directions with other poetry and prose in his first book-length work, also titled In Dreams Begin Responsibilities. It was praised by many, including T.S. Eliot, William Carlos Williams, Ezra Pound, Robert Lowell, and Vladimir Nabokov.
He never finished his advanced degree in philosophy at Harvard, but was hired as the Briggs-Copeland Lecturer, and later given an Assistant Professorship. Frustrated by what he believed was a sense of anti-Semitism within the school, in 1947 Schwartz ended his twelve-year association with Harvard and returned to New York City. His book of short stories The World is a Wedding was published the following year. Time compared Schwartz to Stendhal and Anton Chekhov. By this same time his work was widely anthologized. He was publishing critical essays on other important literary figures and cultural topics, and was the poetry editor at Partisan Review, and later also at New Republic.
His increasingly itinerant nature left him dependent on a series of teaching positions at Bennington College, Kenyon College, Princeton University, the writer's colony Yaddo, and at Syracuse University, in his last years. Among others, he inspired the student Lou Reed, who later dedicated "European Son" on the Velvet Underground's first album to Schwartz. In 1960 Schwartz became the youngest poet ever to win the Bollingen Prize. His friend Saul Bellow wrote a semi-fictional memoir about Schwartz called Humboldt's Gift, which won the Pulitzer Prize.
The last years of his life Schwartz was a solitary, disheveled figure in New York. He drank frequently at the White Horse Tavern, and spent his time sitting in parks and collecting bits of work, quotes, and translations in his journal. Finding himself penniless and virtually friendless, in the summer of 1966 Schwartz checked into the Times Squares hotel, perhaps to focus on his writing. Unfortunately by this time his body had been taxed by years of drug and alcohol abuse. He worked continuously until a heart attack on July 11 seized him in the lobby of the hotel.
________________________________________
Source: poets.org
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August 11, 2024
El primero de los relatos, el que le da el título al libro y el más famoso de su autor —uno de los seis mejores relatos de la literatura moderna, según Nabokov— quizás haya eclipsado al resto de su obra en prosa de la que en este volumen se recogen otros siete de sus cuentos (precedidos por el prólogo, siempre excelente, de Rodrigo Fresán). El caso es que no cabe duda de que es el mejor con diferencia.
“… lo va a lamentar, y mucho, si no hace lo que tiene que hacer, se lo digo yo… todo lo que haga tiene importantes consecuencias”Las consecuencias cercanas y lejanas, directas e indirectas, de nuestros actos, el azar domo determinante absoluto de nuestra vida empezando por la propia existencia, la decepción que conlleva las manifestaciones de la enorme distancia emocional e intelectual que mantenemos con nuestros padres, lo poco compatibles que pueden llegar a ser con nosotros, el dolor al descubrir en ellos los grandes defectos que, heredados, observamos en nosotros mismos.
“Os lo digo a los dos. De todo esto no saldrá nada bueno, no saldrá más que remordimiento, odio, escándalo, y dos hijos de personalidades monstruosas"Todo ello, y seguramente mucho más, se recoge en este emotivo relato de solo trece páginas en el que un joven de 21 años sueña que de niño se encuentra en la penumbra de un cine visionando una película sobre el día en el que sus padres se comprometieron.
De los otros siete, solo he conseguido disfrutar de tres, siendo el más de mi gusto el titulado «Fin de año». Un grupo de jóvenes judíos se disponen a reunirse para celebrar la noche en la que muerte y nacimiento se entrelazan y en la que todos comparten la idea de que su presencia en la fiesta se debía a que nadie tenía un sitio mejor al que ir. ¿Qué podía salir mal? De una ironía corrosiva y encantadora que recuerda a Oscar Wilde, de una…
“… malicia afable, una malicia por la que se pedía la debida disculpa, introducida solamente, porque , como todo el mundo sabe, es mu difícil ser gracioso sin atacar a otra personal a la cual uno profesa, en el fondo, admiración y afecto”Los otros dos son «¡América! ¡América!» y «El mundo es una boda».
En el primero, en una hábil estructura en tres niveles, el autor nos retrata la vida de la familia Baumann a través de un miembro de la familia Fish, escritor con problemas y de vuelta de su reciente viaje a París, que nos hace un relato de la conversación que, sobre aquella familia, mantiene con su madre. Tres planos que se entremezclan maravillosamente para mostrarnos el enfrentamiento generacional en las familias judías de los años 30, que, detalles coyunturales aparte, no se diferencia gran cosa de lo de ahora y siempre.
“¿Qué será —se dijo— lo que no veo en mí mismo por ser algo del presente, tal como tampoco ellos lo vieron? ¿Cómo puede uno verse a sí mismo? Nadie atina a verse como de veras es”El otro, «El mundo es una boda», el más largo de los relatos, está protagonizado por un grupo de amigos, hijos de emigrantes judíos, que miran con menosprecio el pragmatismo de sus mayores al mismo tiempo que alimentan el odio y el desprecio hacia la sociedad que no reconoce sus excelsas cualidades. Gana puntos si lo observo desde la autoparodia de su soberbia, de su ilimitada confianza en su superioridad, de su desdén hacia lo convencional, de su incesante necesidad de centrar la atención, de demostrar una y otra vez su genio…
“… ninguno de mis amigos se irá: están atados los unos a los otros. Es demasiado grande la necesidad que tienen unos de los otros, y todos son parte del ser de cada cual”Cinco estrellas para el primero, cuatro para el segundo y tres y media para los otros dos. Tres estrellas para el conjunto de los ocho.
November 11, 2013
Bi-Partisan Preview
I was introduced to Delmore Schwartz's writing from two different perspectives in the mid-70's.
It might come as little surprise that these introductions had to do with passions that persist to this day: music, literature and politics.
Firstly, I discovered that Schwartz had been one of Lou Reed's lecturers at Syracuse University and was the inspiration for his Velvet Underground song, "European Son".
Secondly, in 1976, I located the back issues of the political and literary magazine, "Partisan Review", in my University Library and proceeded to read each copy from cover to cover. I would spend two or three hours in the Library every Friday afternoon, before joining my friends in the Union Bar to watch a band and whatever else students do in bars.
Partisan Review originally commenced publication in 1934, before splitting from the John Reed Club, after which it went through a hiatus (presumably while it sought funding) and resumed publication in 1937.
Despite this history, the first 1937 issue is often thought of as the first issue of the magazine, partly because by now it had become vaguely Trotskyist, but definitely anti-Stalinist, a major departure from its origins as a political and cultural vehicle for a pro-Soviet lobby group.
This background is relevant to Delmore Schwartz, because his story, "In Dreams Begin Responsibilities", was chosen by an eminent board as the first item in the first issue, notwithstanding that he was only 21 when he wrote it and 23 when it was published.
In the Womb of the Cinema
The story commences:
"I think it is the year 1909. I feel as if I were in a motion picture theatre..."
The narrator is watching a silent movie. In the dark:
"I am anonymous, and I have forgotten myself. It is always so when one goes to the movies, it is, as they say, a drug."
Two things are notable about this. On the one hand, it is in the very early days of film and motion picture theatres. On the other, the year is four years before the author himself was born.
While we shouldn't assume that the narrator is the author or co-temporal with them, it soon becomes clear that the narrator is watching a film about his parents' relationship before he was born (we learn this half way down page two).
I love this set-up. A literary meta-fiction that incorporates another medium such as film, which was still in its infancy at the time.
Too Much Carrying On [Potential Spoiler Warning for This Section]
Anticipating his own miserable future, the narrator tries to deter his parents from starting a relationship, the logical consequence of which would have been that he would never have been born.
Yet, all he can do is protest powerlessly at the movie screen. He must be born. He cannot intervene in his own birth. After all, he must be alive in order to have the dream.
Nevertheless, his protest attracts the attention of the usher, who admonishes him:
"...you can't carry on like this, it is not right, you will find that out soon enough, everything you do matters too much..."
Enter a Free and Responsible Being
In the process of being expelled from the theatre, he awakes on the morning of his 21st birthday.
He is now officially an adult. He is responsible for his own conduct, not his parents. From now on, he can blame nobody but himself. He cannot intervene, in his dreams or in reality, in the lives of anybody else in order to influence what happens in his own life. Now he is his own cause and effect.
In dreams such as this begin the consciousness of responsibility. The ego emerges from the id. Existentialism leads us to responsibility. I am responsible for myself and I must now act responsibly. I am alive and ready to embark on my adult life of self-reliance. I am free.
A Reading by Lou Reed:
http://www.loureed.com/news/listen-to...
An Article about Lou Reed's Introduction to the Collection
http://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-arts-...
An Article about Delmore Schwartz in the Jewish Quarterly
http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/pdf/10...
I was introduced to Delmore Schwartz's writing from two different perspectives in the mid-70's.
It might come as little surprise that these introductions had to do with passions that persist to this day: music, literature and politics.
Firstly, I discovered that Schwartz had been one of Lou Reed's lecturers at Syracuse University and was the inspiration for his Velvet Underground song, "European Son".
Secondly, in 1976, I located the back issues of the political and literary magazine, "Partisan Review", in my University Library and proceeded to read each copy from cover to cover. I would spend two or three hours in the Library every Friday afternoon, before joining my friends in the Union Bar to watch a band and whatever else students do in bars.
Partisan Review originally commenced publication in 1934, before splitting from the John Reed Club, after which it went through a hiatus (presumably while it sought funding) and resumed publication in 1937.
Despite this history, the first 1937 issue is often thought of as the first issue of the magazine, partly because by now it had become vaguely Trotskyist, but definitely anti-Stalinist, a major departure from its origins as a political and cultural vehicle for a pro-Soviet lobby group.
This background is relevant to Delmore Schwartz, because his story, "In Dreams Begin Responsibilities", was chosen by an eminent board as the first item in the first issue, notwithstanding that he was only 21 when he wrote it and 23 when it was published.
In the Womb of the Cinema
The story commences:
"I think it is the year 1909. I feel as if I were in a motion picture theatre..."
The narrator is watching a silent movie. In the dark:
"I am anonymous, and I have forgotten myself. It is always so when one goes to the movies, it is, as they say, a drug."
Two things are notable about this. On the one hand, it is in the very early days of film and motion picture theatres. On the other, the year is four years before the author himself was born.
While we shouldn't assume that the narrator is the author or co-temporal with them, it soon becomes clear that the narrator is watching a film about his parents' relationship before he was born (we learn this half way down page two).
I love this set-up. A literary meta-fiction that incorporates another medium such as film, which was still in its infancy at the time.
Too Much Carrying On [Potential Spoiler Warning for This Section]
Anticipating his own miserable future, the narrator tries to deter his parents from starting a relationship, the logical consequence of which would have been that he would never have been born.
Yet, all he can do is protest powerlessly at the movie screen. He must be born. He cannot intervene in his own birth. After all, he must be alive in order to have the dream.
Nevertheless, his protest attracts the attention of the usher, who admonishes him:
"...you can't carry on like this, it is not right, you will find that out soon enough, everything you do matters too much..."
Enter a Free and Responsible Being
In the process of being expelled from the theatre, he awakes on the morning of his 21st birthday.
He is now officially an adult. He is responsible for his own conduct, not his parents. From now on, he can blame nobody but himself. He cannot intervene, in his dreams or in reality, in the lives of anybody else in order to influence what happens in his own life. Now he is his own cause and effect.
In dreams such as this begin the consciousness of responsibility. The ego emerges from the id. Existentialism leads us to responsibility. I am responsible for myself and I must now act responsibly. I am alive and ready to embark on my adult life of self-reliance. I am free.
A Reading by Lou Reed:
http://www.loureed.com/news/listen-to...
An Article about Lou Reed's Introduction to the Collection
http://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-arts-...
An Article about Delmore Schwartz in the Jewish Quarterly
http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/pdf/10...
June 21, 2022
Delmore Schwartz taught creative writing to Leonard Cohen. That is the least interesting thing about Schwartz. So I have your attention. And for anyone who has recently read a series of bad books, it’s time to read only good books. That is a much more interesting part of Delmore Schwartz.
I read a few of these stories again the other night and saw more than I expected. Especially the story “America, America”. This time, I noted a series of words that form a meta structure to the work.
What’s it about? Shenandoah Fish comes home and starts to listen to his mother in the kitchen as she tells a story about the old days and especially Baumann, the insurance salesman, Russian jew who immigrated at the end of the 19thC. Baumann is a common type among Jews of that era, but he’s also a type recognisable through his appreciation of the American ideal of life. He loves progress, invention, the wonder of freedom and the products of industry. He is genuinely in awe of a world that from the point of view of poor immigrants, truly was a wonder. Baumann’s work is an extension of his social character. He loves people, he networks, the work comes to him without effort outside the way he likes to live.
But these words that appear in italics fascinated me. Here is a list:
Insurance game
Afford
Dropped (in)
Every topic of the day
Greenhorn
Bringing into the house
Doing business
Fad
Took it out
Fresh
For himself
The deal
Pestered
Going concern
Immense
Ran with
Some are pearls of Americanisms,insurance game, fresh, doing business, going concern, greenhorn. They bind the story in a way that warranted further consideration.
The story, only about 20 pages long, is set in 1936, and written in early 1950s. So the words come across as one of the many inventive impacts on American English by those first Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe. Or at least, that community was one of the many propagators and distributors of the new dynamic America life. After all, they were heavily involved in live theatre, movies, literature and comedy. Words like these could be said to form the vanguard of becoming American. The words are heavily weighted towards business, but also domestic - ran with, fresh, bringing into the house, dropped in etc, express the day to day - fresh defines the delightful vignetter of Baumann’s daughter who is always engaged with the social life of the house, performing for an audience, speaking her mind.
Why does this story impress at each reading? Mostly personal as it is the best story I have ever read of any immigrant experience. I have several Jewish friends whose origins are from those Yiddish speaking areas (curiously no Yiddish words are used in the story. Perhaps these Americanisms suggest a turning point in the immigrant’s experience). And third, the language of the book was still circulating for decades in the films and comedy derived from that era - Marx Brothers, Three Stooges, and endless stand up comics still operating like Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld. They became my cultural enlightenment and heritage from movies and TV. American TV and movies were widespread here in Melbourne as I grew up in the 1970s. So for me, these were lived words. Not an archive for history buffs.
______
The title story "In Dreams..." takes us to a place that questions the idea of existence, an encounter at the cinema watching your parent's own days of courtship. It could be nostalgic, or horror inducing.
I read a few of these stories again the other night and saw more than I expected. Especially the story “America, America”. This time, I noted a series of words that form a meta structure to the work.
What’s it about? Shenandoah Fish comes home and starts to listen to his mother in the kitchen as she tells a story about the old days and especially Baumann, the insurance salesman, Russian jew who immigrated at the end of the 19thC. Baumann is a common type among Jews of that era, but he’s also a type recognisable through his appreciation of the American ideal of life. He loves progress, invention, the wonder of freedom and the products of industry. He is genuinely in awe of a world that from the point of view of poor immigrants, truly was a wonder. Baumann’s work is an extension of his social character. He loves people, he networks, the work comes to him without effort outside the way he likes to live.
But these words that appear in italics fascinated me. Here is a list:
Insurance game
Afford
Dropped (in)
Every topic of the day
Greenhorn
Bringing into the house
Doing business
Fad
Took it out
Fresh
For himself
The deal
Pestered
Going concern
Immense
Ran with
Some are pearls of Americanisms,insurance game, fresh, doing business, going concern, greenhorn. They bind the story in a way that warranted further consideration.
The story, only about 20 pages long, is set in 1936, and written in early 1950s. So the words come across as one of the many inventive impacts on American English by those first Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe. Or at least, that community was one of the many propagators and distributors of the new dynamic America life. After all, they were heavily involved in live theatre, movies, literature and comedy. Words like these could be said to form the vanguard of becoming American. The words are heavily weighted towards business, but also domestic - ran with, fresh, bringing into the house, dropped in etc, express the day to day - fresh defines the delightful vignetter of Baumann’s daughter who is always engaged with the social life of the house, performing for an audience, speaking her mind.
Why does this story impress at each reading? Mostly personal as it is the best story I have ever read of any immigrant experience. I have several Jewish friends whose origins are from those Yiddish speaking areas (curiously no Yiddish words are used in the story. Perhaps these Americanisms suggest a turning point in the immigrant’s experience). And third, the language of the book was still circulating for decades in the films and comedy derived from that era - Marx Brothers, Three Stooges, and endless stand up comics still operating like Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld. They became my cultural enlightenment and heritage from movies and TV. American TV and movies were widespread here in Melbourne as I grew up in the 1970s. So for me, these were lived words. Not an archive for history buffs.
______
The title story "In Dreams..." takes us to a place that questions the idea of existence, an encounter at the cinema watching your parent's own days of courtship. It could be nostalgic, or horror inducing.
November 30, 2023
https://kansasbooks.blogspot.com/2023...
“Es una tarde de domingo, es el 12 de junio de 1909, y mi padre baja por las calles tranquilas de Brooklyn de camino a casa de mi madre. La ropa recién planchada y el almidón por corbata. Le hacen tilin las monedas en el bolsillo cuando piensa en las lindezas que dirá. Me siento como si me hubiera rendido ya a la blanda oscuridad del cine. No tengo nombre y me he perdido de vista. Siempre pasa lo mismo cuando vas al cine, es una droga, eso dicen.”
Qué maravilla de relato, tan corto y al mismo tiempo que dice tanto del personaje protagonista y del autor si buceas e investigas un poco a Delmore Schwartz. En este pequeño párrafo se concentra una de las elipsis más bestiales con las que me he encontrado por ese giro tan tremendo en tiempo y espacio. En este párrafo el protagonista comienza narrando un dia de domingo en el que su padre va al encuentro de la mujer con la que quiere casarse, y justo en el mismo párrafo tres frases después, nos impacta el hecho de que el protagonista esté sentado en la oscuridad de un cine viendo esa imagen, la de su padre caminando por las calles de Brooklyn, almidonado e ilusionado: dos líneas temporales, dos lineas argumentales paralelas, las dos en el presente... Realmente este cuento no comienza así, con la imagen de su padre caminando sino que comienza con él ya en el cine: “Creo que es 1909. Me siento como si estuviera en una sala de cine, el largo brazo que cruza la oscuridad, se enrosca, tengo los ojos clavados en la pantalla.” Se sienta en el cine a ver una película muda “donde las imágenes se suceden a saltos, como fogonazos”, y cuando la pantalla se ilumina el protagonista reconoce a sus padres... justo aquí Delmore Schwartz, continuando en el presente nos sumerge en un día de domingo en el que una pareja neoyorquina sale a pasear, coge el tren en dirección a Coney Island para pasar la tarde juntos. Es la historia del cortejo de los padres del narrador en una tarde de un domingo de junio.
“Padre y madre salen de la casa, mi padre repite el apretón de manos con mi madre, quién sabe qué incomodidad le lleva a hacerlo. Yo también me revuelvo de incomodidad, atravesado en la dura butaca del cine.”
Lo que me ha maravillado de este corto relato es quizás la facilidad, la transparencia en la que cambia el nivel entre el presente del protagonista sentado en el cine y el presente de la película en la que está siendo testigo del cortejo de sus padres. Este año no he leído muchos cuentos por falta de tiempo porque me he embarcado en otras lecturas pero leyendo esta pequeña joya, he recordado por qué he disfrutado siempre tanto de algunos cuentistas, como Alice Munro o John Cheever en la medida en que soy consciente de lo difícil que es condensar en unas pocas páginas toda una vida y un entorno y a veces lo consiguen con la elipsis, pasando a otro nivel apenas en un parpadeo, unas elipsis que encierran momentos traumáticos nunca desvelados que incluso el lector tendrá que luchar por montar las piezas en su cabeza. Con este relato de Delmore Schwartz he tenido esa impresión de reunir las piezas porque a medida que el protagonista sin nombre observa el domingo de sus padres, algo va despertando en él y de alguna forma despierta algún trauma de infancia, quizás la futura separación de sus padres, que él sentado en la butaca ya sabía que se produciría en el futuro, emparentado con la propia vida de Delmore Schwartz cuando a los nueve años sus padres también se separaron. En algún momento sentado en la butaca del cine se rebela ante lo que está viendo en la pantalla, intentando pararlo, e incluso rompe a llorar:
“Mi padre informa a mi madre sobre el dinero que ganó la semana pasada, exagerando una cifra que no requería de exageración alguna. A mi padre la realidad en cierto modo siempre le sabe a poco. Rompo a llorar.”
Este fue uno de los cuentos favoritos de Nabokov y puedo entenderlo, el secreto está en el ritmo y en como sincroniza pasado, presente y futuro, todo apenas en unas poquísimas páginas. Intuyo que es un cuento eminentemente autobiográfico pero es fascinante como en apenas unas cinco o seis páginas, pueda tener este rasgo tan atemporal, dejando grabada una huella emocional que perdura en el tiempo. Es un relato que reúne todo lo que me puede fascinar en una historia, condensado al mínimo y asi y todo te puedes hacer una visión del contexto social y psicológico de esta familia de tres personas. El relato fue escrito en 1937 pero transcurre en 1909, sin embargo la atmósfera que nos transmite Schwartz es la que vivió él durante la Gran Depresión, con esa estela de inseguridad y desesperación flotando como una nube, cuya salvación estaba en los domingos con un viaje en tren haciendo escala en Coney Island para respirar el aroma del mar que diera un viso de libertad a esos tiempos tan inseguros. Una maravilla de cuento que me ha pillado por sorpresa aunque ya me sonaba porque era un relato que volvía loco a Lou Reed y a Nabokov. El titulo "In Dreams Begin Responsabilities" está sacado de una colección de poemas de W.B. Yeats titulada "Responsabilities", que incluye precisamente esta cita…, una cita que da titulo a este corto relato y dónde puede que esté la clave de adónde quería llegar con esta pequeña joya Delmore Schwartz.
“Y es en ese instante, justo cuando el vals alcanza su apogeo y todas las parejas de baile giran con locura, es en ese instante cuando, armandose de valor, pide a mi madre que se case con él, sin poder ocultar, junto a la emoción, la incomodidad y perplejidad por haber sido capaz de dar el paso…
(…)
En ese instante me puse de pie en medio del patio de butacas y grité No! ¡Ni se os ocurra! Estais a tiempo de dejarlo correr, los dos. De esto no saldrá nada bueno, solo rencor, odio, escándalos y dos hijos con caracteres monstruosos.”
♫♫♫ Sunday Morning - The Velvet Underground ♫♫♫
September 12, 2015
My obit for Lou Reed gives Delmore a shout-out and gives the title story some particular love: http://www.themillions.com/2013/11/lo...
Title story was- and is- immortal. The rest of it is kind of a slog.
Very disappointing, since I love his poetry and there just seems to be more legend than masterpieces for poor Delmore. I've heard such extraordinary things about him secondhand: comments and eulogies and tributes from Lou Reed, John Berryman, Saul Bellow...anyone who can get those three critical, streetwise geniuses to agree as they did has got to be good people.
Did he drink his talent away? Probably. Did he rant it away? Again, probably. Is there less of his work for us to enjoy and appreciate as a result? Definitely.
Just read the startlingly contemporary title story and appreciate all there was to lose.
December 30, 2025
“All of us consume each other, and life without such friends as we are to each other would be unbearable. The best pleasure of all is to give pleasure to another being. Strange as it seems, I see this truth every day when I give my cat his dinner, and I see how unbearable solitude is when I come home and he is pleased to see me, and I am pleased that he is pleased.”
“What was the freedom to which the adult human being rose in the morning, if each act was held back or inspired by the overpowering ghost of a little child?”
“What was the freedom to which the adult human being rose in the morning, if each act was held back or inspired by the overpowering ghost of a little child?”
May 9, 2019
This evocative title has always intrigued. I long, long ago bought a copy of this book just for the title alone (prompted, too, by accounts of Schwartz being the inspiration behind Bellow’s Humboldt’s Gift). I finally pulled it from the shelf because I’d recently read LeGuin’s Lathe of Heaven, and that novel evoked Schwartz’s title, which could have served as an epigraph.
While Schwartz published only through the end of the 50s, his stories concern events and the spirit of the preceding generation. The title story encapsulates the anxiety Schwartz and his 2nd and 3rd generation of well-educated Jews experienced after their 1st generation immigrant parents had succeeded in becoming Americans. This was no small feat, and Schwartz is conscious of all that he owes parents who have dreamed of the good life and given him means to further ascend the social ladder. At the same time, there is a burden and anxiety about this legacy, that with the promise of more, there is also the responsibility to act on that promise.
With the financial collapse of 1929, which depression extended throughout the 30s, this promise of more seemed illusory, and yet so much had been bequeathed to Schwartz’s talented generation. Or so Schwartz perceives it. Schwartz is tender and compassionate, able to place his well-rendered characters in social circumstances that convey an era and are still poignant in their particularity.
This collection features a brilliant description of a clique—that generation of Schwartz’s—which maintains a constant coherence over a five-year period during the 30s, “The World Is a Wedding”. In this long story each of the members of this clique is given expression, all filled with aspiration, drawn to a particular cynosure whose success they feel is imminent. As that character’s success continues to elude him, so the members of the clique begin to see just what lies ahead for them all. It’s a funny, well-delineated character study that suggests a larger world that has shrunk and is no longer able to sustain its inhabitants’ talents/ambitions.
This collection begins and ends with a Schwartz surrogate in a movie theatre, which he invokes as escape, refuge from reality. In the first, “In Dreams Begin Responsibilities”, the movie he sees reels out his parents’ tetchy courtship, about which he is rueful, knowing his parents have not always been happy, knowing that he himself does not merit the existence they have made for him. In the final story, “Screeno,” the protagonist is denied the pleasure of a particular movie night because he has self-consciously given away his prize money to another man, seemingly more destitute. There is exaltation in having done the good/right thing, but after Schwartz lets his protagonist spin out high dreams in a poetic outburst, he ends the story on a note of resignation.
This note of resignation is a steady, underlying thrum throughout, and this collection exudes a sense of abashed failure, of talent gone to waste. While he casts aspiration/failure in forms outside of himself, representing not just self but a generation, these stories ultimately devolve into a heartbreaking portrait of Schwartz’s own sad, self-conscious etiolation.
While Schwartz published only through the end of the 50s, his stories concern events and the spirit of the preceding generation. The title story encapsulates the anxiety Schwartz and his 2nd and 3rd generation of well-educated Jews experienced after their 1st generation immigrant parents had succeeded in becoming Americans. This was no small feat, and Schwartz is conscious of all that he owes parents who have dreamed of the good life and given him means to further ascend the social ladder. At the same time, there is a burden and anxiety about this legacy, that with the promise of more, there is also the responsibility to act on that promise.
With the financial collapse of 1929, which depression extended throughout the 30s, this promise of more seemed illusory, and yet so much had been bequeathed to Schwartz’s talented generation. Or so Schwartz perceives it. Schwartz is tender and compassionate, able to place his well-rendered characters in social circumstances that convey an era and are still poignant in their particularity.
This collection features a brilliant description of a clique—that generation of Schwartz’s—which maintains a constant coherence over a five-year period during the 30s, “The World Is a Wedding”. In this long story each of the members of this clique is given expression, all filled with aspiration, drawn to a particular cynosure whose success they feel is imminent. As that character’s success continues to elude him, so the members of the clique begin to see just what lies ahead for them all. It’s a funny, well-delineated character study that suggests a larger world that has shrunk and is no longer able to sustain its inhabitants’ talents/ambitions.
This collection begins and ends with a Schwartz surrogate in a movie theatre, which he invokes as escape, refuge from reality. In the first, “In Dreams Begin Responsibilities”, the movie he sees reels out his parents’ tetchy courtship, about which he is rueful, knowing his parents have not always been happy, knowing that he himself does not merit the existence they have made for him. In the final story, “Screeno,” the protagonist is denied the pleasure of a particular movie night because he has self-consciously given away his prize money to another man, seemingly more destitute. There is exaltation in having done the good/right thing, but after Schwartz lets his protagonist spin out high dreams in a poetic outburst, he ends the story on a note of resignation.
This note of resignation is a steady, underlying thrum throughout, and this collection exudes a sense of abashed failure, of talent gone to waste. While he casts aspiration/failure in forms outside of himself, representing not just self but a generation, these stories ultimately devolve into a heartbreaking portrait of Schwartz’s own sad, self-conscious etiolation.
April 16, 2020
It took me a long time to read this 200-page book of Delmore Schwartz's stories because each one merits careful attention and because some of them are long and complicated with many characters and relationships to keep straight. They are New York stories, set in the late 1940s and 1950s with many references to past family histories of immigration and the struggle for success in America.
The first story, which gives the book its title, the justly famous "In Dreams Begin Responsibilities," is my favorite. A young man dreams he is at the movies and when he realizes the film being shown is about his parents' courtship, he becomes emotionally distraught. It helps to know that Schwartz's parents divorced when he was young and he never got over it.
Other standouts include "The World Is a Wedding," about the life of New York intellectuals, and "The Child Is the Meaning of This Life," a long tale of family relationships. All the stories are worth reading and rereading. There is much to appreciate here.
The first story, which gives the book its title, the justly famous "In Dreams Begin Responsibilities," is my favorite. A young man dreams he is at the movies and when he realizes the film being shown is about his parents' courtship, he becomes emotionally distraught. It helps to know that Schwartz's parents divorced when he was young and he never got over it.
Other standouts include "The World Is a Wedding," about the life of New York intellectuals, and "The Child Is the Meaning of This Life," a long tale of family relationships. All the stories are worth reading and rereading. There is much to appreciate here.
September 25, 2023
This is one of the best books I’ve ever read. I kind of can’t believe I’m only just getting to it, but better late than never. Schwartz makes sense of the centrality of making mistakes to living. In stories rooted in immigrant life and family relationships, in thinks about how we locate and mislocate reality and actuality in our lives and the lives of others. He connects Jewish writing with the multidirectional heritages and futures of so many different literatures, reading and writing as transgressively and integratively as he wants. The prose is spot on. Each story is incredible and special. Usually I read quickly but I moved through this one slowly to make sense of it. I almost couldn’t finish it it was so good, if you know what I mean.
July 8, 2024
The collected stories of a very important literary figure [immortalized in Bellow’s *Humboldt’s Gift*], who did not write very much prose and who died in obscurity & poverty. One can esp. see the influence of Schwartz on Bellow’s later 1984 collection *Him With His Foot in His Mouth*.
Some of this material is fabulous; all of it is bold, often tender, & always experimental.
“The Child is the Meaning of This Life” (1949) — (5+) - [novella]
“New Year’s Eve” (1949) — (5) - brilliant
“America! America!” (1949) — (4.5)
“In Dreams Begin Responsibilities” (1935) — (4)
“The World is a Wedding” (1949) (weird) — (4) - [novella]
“SCREENO” (undated) — (3.5)
“The Commencement Day Address” (1937) — (3)
“The Track Meet (1959?) — (3)
Some of this material is fabulous; all of it is bold, often tender, & always experimental.
“The Child is the Meaning of This Life” (1949) — (5+) - [novella]
“New Year’s Eve” (1949) — (5) - brilliant
“America! America!” (1949) — (4.5)
“In Dreams Begin Responsibilities” (1935) — (4)
“The World is a Wedding” (1949) (weird) — (4) - [novella]
“SCREENO” (undated) — (3.5)
“The Commencement Day Address” (1937) — (3)
“The Track Meet (1959?) — (3)
February 1, 2012
A great collection of short stories. I first heard of Schwartz because I'm a big fan of the Velvet Underground. Lou Reed was taught by Schwartz in college and he was the biggest inspiration Reed had as a young man. I then found out that he was an influence in later Jewish American writers like Philip Roth and Saul Bellow, he was written about by John Berryman in the Dream Songs and Bellow's Humboldt's Gift was based on him. He's clearly a pretty serious cult writer. The stories are very good. They are obviously Kafka influenced but they are more realistic and less fabulist. I felt there was some similarity to Katherine Mansfield, though I don't know if he was aware of her.
August 2, 2011
I'll temper this rating by saying I only read the first/title story in this collection and the final one, "Screeno", to get a taste. Both stories are about movies and the act of going to the movies and the act of action and a general theory of projections and a confounding of dreams and not-dreams and how the fabric of our self-understanding is a dense plaid woven of all these things.
And in both stories I read, the fabric rips and no matter how good you think you might be at sewing, you can always see exactly where the seam broke.
And in both stories I read, the fabric rips and no matter how good you think you might be at sewing, you can always see exactly where the seam broke.
June 18, 2008
The wickedness of delusion and pastoral dreamscapes intersect with the beating heart of the young person's desire to make yr own way, the spirit of seeing the world through two wide-open eyes and a dash of hope for a world more tolerant. I always come back to the stories contained herein. Why? Just because.
May 23, 2020
Well written but not really entertaining
October 18, 2021
among the very finest stories i have read in my little life - he is able to deconstruct every character's psychology without ever coming off as cruel or detached or lacking in actual scenes for them to play in their external worlds
March 29, 2025
In which a young man dreams his parents' courtship and tries, unsuccessfully, to stop it, kind of a reverse Marty McFly sans DeLorean. He tells them: "Don’t do it. It’s not too late to change your minds, both of you. Nothing good will come of it, only remorse, hatred, scandal, and two children whose characters are monstrous.”
February 27, 2018
Never, never, never be disappointed by what Nabokov recommends.
November 24, 2025
Lou Reed je imel prav, seveda je imel prav.
Best: In Dreams Begin Responsibilities, The World Is a Wedding, New Year’s Eve.
Best: In Dreams Begin Responsibilities, The World Is a Wedding, New Year’s Eve.
February 12, 2025
El primer relato es de los pocos que merecen la pena leer, el resto deja que desear.
September 7, 2020
I was introduced to Delmore Schwartz's writing through a New York Times longform on Lonely Deaths.
In 1938, Schwartz published In Dreams Begin Responsibilities to great praise at just 25 years old. He was proclaimed as 'one of the most gifted and promising young writers of his generation' from luminaries like T.S. Eliot, Ezra Pound and William Carlos Williams. He became a well-known figure in New York intellectual circles, was considered a great conversationalist, and spent much time entertaining friends at the White Horse Tavern in New York City.
Yet in 1966, aged 52, he died alone in his hotel room at the Chelsea Hotel in New York, where he had lived in seclusion for several years. It was two days before anyone came to identify his body at the morgue. Further, it was not anyone who knew him personally but a journalist who noticed his name amongst a list of unclaimed bodies in the local paper.
I picked up his book out of curiosity, wondering what led such a promising young writer to his lonely death. I don't have answers, only that his work of a sad cinematic quality; itself lonely and enigmatic with an emotional intensity that makes me want to pick the child up and hug him. I leave with this:
The University of Iowa has kindly hosted a PDF of the first story online, which you may read here.
In 1938, Schwartz published In Dreams Begin Responsibilities to great praise at just 25 years old. He was proclaimed as 'one of the most gifted and promising young writers of his generation' from luminaries like T.S. Eliot, Ezra Pound and William Carlos Williams. He became a well-known figure in New York intellectual circles, was considered a great conversationalist, and spent much time entertaining friends at the White Horse Tavern in New York City.
Yet in 1966, aged 52, he died alone in his hotel room at the Chelsea Hotel in New York, where he had lived in seclusion for several years. It was two days before anyone came to identify his body at the morgue. Further, it was not anyone who knew him personally but a journalist who noticed his name amongst a list of unclaimed bodies in the local paper.
I picked up his book out of curiosity, wondering what led such a promising young writer to his lonely death. I don't have answers, only that his work of a sad cinematic quality; itself lonely and enigmatic with an emotional intensity that makes me want to pick the child up and hug him. I leave with this:
'I stare at the terrible sun which breaks up sight, and the fatal, merciless, passionate ocean, I forget my parents. I stare fascinated and finally, shocked by the indifference of my father and mother, I burst out weeping once more. The old lady next to me pats me on the shoulder and says, “There, there, all of this is only a movie, young man, only a movie,” but I look up once more at the terrifying sun and the terrifying ocean, and being unable to control my tears."
The University of Iowa has kindly hosted a PDF of the first story online, which you may read here.
March 3, 2011
What a (belated) discovery! Schwartz's characters and prose style are thoroughly compelling. More often spoken of as a poet, I think, his stories nonetheless have quite a reputation. They are quite narrowly focused; the children of the (largely Eastern European Jewish) immigrants who came over from 1890-1915 have by the 1930s set out to disappoint their parents' aspirations for them to become doctors and dentists and have instead embraced the life of penniless writers and intellectuals. Eventually (by the 1940s) they reach the (probably still incomprehensible to their parents) heights of The Partisan Review and attend hard-drinking, emotionally-fraught parties quite reminiscent of those chronicled by the equally amazing Dawn Powell in her tales of the same era.
March 12, 2009
The title story is a forgotten gem - simple in the telling, but prompting all kinds of philosophical reality/imagination specualtion. We're used to the metaphor now that life can be like a movie: Schwartz came up with it before anyone else I know. Some of the other stories took longer to make an impression on me. However, 'America! America!' subtly probes different perspectives and the nature of Jewish immigrant experience in early twentieth century America and the satire of 'The World Is A Wedding' suggests to me that Schwartz is a much funnier writer than he is often given credit for. 'Screeno' is another highlight.
April 30, 2009
"The world is a marriage of convenience," said Laura drunkenly, "the world is a shot-gun marriage. The world is a sordid match for money. The world is a misalliance. Every birthday is a funeral and every funeral is a great relief."
File under: the way you want to imagine America.
File under: the way you want to imagine America.
May 26, 2013
If you like J.D.'s Nine Stories, I suspect you'll enjoy these. How did these stories get lost in the shuffle?
Want to read
March 5, 2016
October 1, 2020
I tried, since I was sucked in by all the adoring blurbs, and couldn’t get through even the first few stories. Too many books and too little time for writing like this.
March 25, 2009
So far burn full painful. Done reading. tears...
August 8, 2024
Reading the first 3 stories (that is all the farther I will read) is reminiscent of reading "Look Homeward Angel" or "Babbitt" but with a heavy dose of Jewish. Which makes sense. These books touch on coming of age and the age they occur in which is pretty much the same for a certain class of people in "merica since the 1920's. I was particularly interested because of Lou Reed's unbridled praise for Delmore. You won't find the reason in Delmore's short stories (I don't know about the poems,) it mush have been his teaching which Lou received. But I am super impressed with Mr. Reed's words about Mr. Schwartz copied and pasted here from Poetry Magazine.
O Delmore how I miss you. You inspired me to write. You were the greatest man I ever met. You could capture the deepest emotions in the simplest language. Your titles were more than enough to raise the muse of fire on my neck. You were a genius. Doomed.
The mad stories. O Delmore I was so young. I believed so much. We gathered around you as you read Finnegans Wake. So hilarious but impenetrable without you. You said there were few things better in life than to devote oneself to Joyce. You’d annotated every word in the novels you kept from the library. Every word.
And you said you were writing “The Pig’s Valise.” O Delmore no such thing. They looked, after your final delusion led you to a heart attack in the Hotel Dixie. Unclaimed for three days. You—one of the greatest writers of our era. No valise.
You wore the letter from T.S. Eliot next to your heart. His praise of In Dreams. Would that you could have stopped that wedding. No good will come of this!!! You were right. You begged us—Please don’t let them bury me next to my mother. Have a party to celebrate moving from this world hopefully to a better one. And you Lou—I swear—and you know if anyone could I could—you Lou must never write for money or I will haunt you.
I’d given him a short story. He gave me a B. I was so hurt and ashamed. Why haunt talentless me? I was the walker for “The Heavy Bear Who Goes With Me.” To literary cocktails. He hated them. And I was put in charge. Some drinks later—his shirt undone—one tail front right hanging—tie skewed, fly unzipped. O Delmore. You were so beautiful. Named for a silent movie star dancer Frank Delmore. O Delmore—the scar from dueling with Nietzsche.
Reading Yeats and the bell had rung but the poem was not over you hadn’t finished reading—liquid rivulets sprang from your nose but still you would not stop reading. I was transfixed. I cried—the love of the word—the heavy bear.
You told us to break into ______’s estate where your wife was being held prisoner. Your wrists broken by those who were your enemies. The pills jumbling your fine mind.
I met you in the bar where you had just ordered five drinks. You said they were so slow that by the time you had the fifth you should have ordered again. Our scotch classes. Vermouth. The jukebox you hated—the lyrics so pathetic.
You called the White House one night to protest their actions against you. A scholarship to your wife to get her away from you and into the arms of whomever in Europe.
I heard the newsboy crying Europe Europe.
Give me enough hope and I’ll hang myself.
Hamlet came from an old upper class family.
Some thought him drunk but—really—he was a manic-depressive—which is like having brown hair.
You have to take your own shower—an existential act. You could slip in the shower and die alone.
Hamlet starting saying strange things. A woman is like a cantaloupe Horatio—once she’s open she goes rotten.
O Delmore where was the Vaudeville for a Princess. A gift to the princess from the stage star in the dressing room.
The duchess stuck her finger up the duke’s ass and the kingdom vanished.
No good will come of this. Stop this courtship!
Sir you must be quiet or I must eject you.
Delmore understood it all and could write it down impeccably.
Shenandoah Fish*. You were too good to survive. The insights got you. The fame expectations. So you taught.
And I saw you in the last round.
I loved your wit and massive knowledge.
You were and have always been the one.
You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him think.
I wanted to write. One line as good as yours. My mountain. My inspiration.
You wrote the greatest short story ever written.
In Dreams.
O Delmore how I miss you. You inspired me to write. You were the greatest man I ever met. You could capture the deepest emotions in the simplest language. Your titles were more than enough to raise the muse of fire on my neck. You were a genius. Doomed.
The mad stories. O Delmore I was so young. I believed so much. We gathered around you as you read Finnegans Wake. So hilarious but impenetrable without you. You said there were few things better in life than to devote oneself to Joyce. You’d annotated every word in the novels you kept from the library. Every word.
And you said you were writing “The Pig’s Valise.” O Delmore no such thing. They looked, after your final delusion led you to a heart attack in the Hotel Dixie. Unclaimed for three days. You—one of the greatest writers of our era. No valise.
You wore the letter from T.S. Eliot next to your heart. His praise of In Dreams. Would that you could have stopped that wedding. No good will come of this!!! You were right. You begged us—Please don’t let them bury me next to my mother. Have a party to celebrate moving from this world hopefully to a better one. And you Lou—I swear—and you know if anyone could I could—you Lou must never write for money or I will haunt you.
I’d given him a short story. He gave me a B. I was so hurt and ashamed. Why haunt talentless me? I was the walker for “The Heavy Bear Who Goes With Me.” To literary cocktails. He hated them. And I was put in charge. Some drinks later—his shirt undone—one tail front right hanging—tie skewed, fly unzipped. O Delmore. You were so beautiful. Named for a silent movie star dancer Frank Delmore. O Delmore—the scar from dueling with Nietzsche.
Reading Yeats and the bell had rung but the poem was not over you hadn’t finished reading—liquid rivulets sprang from your nose but still you would not stop reading. I was transfixed. I cried—the love of the word—the heavy bear.
You told us to break into ______’s estate where your wife was being held prisoner. Your wrists broken by those who were your enemies. The pills jumbling your fine mind.
I met you in the bar where you had just ordered five drinks. You said they were so slow that by the time you had the fifth you should have ordered again. Our scotch classes. Vermouth. The jukebox you hated—the lyrics so pathetic.
You called the White House one night to protest their actions against you. A scholarship to your wife to get her away from you and into the arms of whomever in Europe.
I heard the newsboy crying Europe Europe.
Give me enough hope and I’ll hang myself.
Hamlet came from an old upper class family.
Some thought him drunk but—really—he was a manic-depressive—which is like having brown hair.
You have to take your own shower—an existential act. You could slip in the shower and die alone.
Hamlet starting saying strange things. A woman is like a cantaloupe Horatio—once she’s open she goes rotten.
O Delmore where was the Vaudeville for a Princess. A gift to the princess from the stage star in the dressing room.
The duchess stuck her finger up the duke’s ass and the kingdom vanished.
No good will come of this. Stop this courtship!
Sir you must be quiet or I must eject you.
Delmore understood it all and could write it down impeccably.
Shenandoah Fish*. You were too good to survive. The insights got you. The fame expectations. So you taught.
And I saw you in the last round.
I loved your wit and massive knowledge.
You were and have always been the one.
You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him think.
I wanted to write. One line as good as yours. My mountain. My inspiration.
You wrote the greatest short story ever written.
In Dreams.
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