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What There Is to Say We Have Said: The Correspondence of Eudora Welty and William Maxwell
For over fifty years, Eudora Welty and William Maxwell, two of our most admired writers, penned letters to each other. They shared their worries about work and family, literary opinions and scuttlebutt, moments of despair and hilarity. Living half a continent apart, their friendship was nourished and maintained by their correspondence.
What There Is to Say We Have Said bears witness to Welty and Maxwell’s editorial relationships—both in his capacity as New Yorker editor and in their collegial back-andforth on their work. It’s also a chronicle of the literary world of the time; read talk of James Thurber, William Shawn, Katherine Anne Porter, J. D. Salinger, Isak Dinesen, William Faulkner, John Updike, Virginia Woolf, Walker Percy, Ford Madox Ford, John Cheever, and many more. It is a treasure trove of reading recommendations.
Here, Suzanne Marrs—Welty’s biographer and friend—offers an unprecedented window into two intertwined lives. Through careful collection of more than 300 letters as well as her own insightful introductions, she has created a record of a remarkable friendship and a lyrical homage to the forgotten art of letter writing.
What There Is to Say We Have Said bears witness to Welty and Maxwell’s editorial relationships—both in his capacity as New Yorker editor and in their collegial back-andforth on their work. It’s also a chronicle of the literary world of the time; read talk of James Thurber, William Shawn, Katherine Anne Porter, J. D. Salinger, Isak Dinesen, William Faulkner, John Updike, Virginia Woolf, Walker Percy, Ford Madox Ford, John Cheever, and many more. It is a treasure trove of reading recommendations.
Here, Suzanne Marrs—Welty’s biographer and friend—offers an unprecedented window into two intertwined lives. Through careful collection of more than 300 letters as well as her own insightful introductions, she has created a record of a remarkable friendship and a lyrical homage to the forgotten art of letter writing.
512 pages, Hardcover
First published May 12, 2011
60 people are currently reading
690 people want to read
About the author
Suzanne Marrs
10 books10 followersSuzanne Marrs is the author of Eudora Welty: A Biography and One Writer's Imagination: The Fiction of Eudora Welty and is a recipient of the Phoenix Award for Distinguished Welty Scholarship. She is a professor of English at Millsaps College. "
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 38 reviews
May 15, 2023
I would not have thought I could admire Eudora Welty or William Maxwell more than I already did, but I was quite wrong. Their correspondence reveals a depth of character, friendship, and loyalty that is touching. They both exhibit wit and intelligence beyond the average, even when discussing their rose gardens, but of course, that is not a surprise, you can find that in the books they have written.
It felt a rare privilege to get an intimate glimpse into the lives of both of these remarkable writers. The letters are full of their families, their experiences, their thoughts on their own and each other's writings, and their insecurities and doubts.
In one of his letters, Maxwell says,
"I'm trying to put together a book of short stories, and finding it difficult. So many of them are either stuck fast in the copy of the New Yorker they appeared in, or in a period that isn't like now. I keep wishing that somebody (myself for instance) had only said, "Couldn't you try harder?" A few are all right. But only a few. And what bothers me is that I didn't see this at the time.”
The remarkable thing, to me, was that he was referring to his collection titled Over by the River and Other Stories, which is by far one of the best short story collections I have ever encountered. There is something almost comforting about this kind of humility. I suspect this was one of the reasons Welty and Maxwell shared such a long and close friendship, because she is as down-to-earth as he is, even when she is being showered with medals and honors.
I read this book very slowly, taking time to savor each word and event. I broke several times to read stories and novels by these writers that I had not yet read and which they were discussing between themselves. I read every footnote supplied by Suzanne Marrs, who copiously edited this compilation. Before the end of the year, I hope to read her biography of Welty, William Maxwell: A Literary Life by Barbara Burkhardt, and both Welty’s and Maxwell’s novels that I have not yet completed. It feels as if I could never spend too much time with them.
It felt a rare privilege to get an intimate glimpse into the lives of both of these remarkable writers. The letters are full of their families, their experiences, their thoughts on their own and each other's writings, and their insecurities and doubts.
In one of his letters, Maxwell says,
"I'm trying to put together a book of short stories, and finding it difficult. So many of them are either stuck fast in the copy of the New Yorker they appeared in, or in a period that isn't like now. I keep wishing that somebody (myself for instance) had only said, "Couldn't you try harder?" A few are all right. But only a few. And what bothers me is that I didn't see this at the time.”
The remarkable thing, to me, was that he was referring to his collection titled Over by the River and Other Stories, which is by far one of the best short story collections I have ever encountered. There is something almost comforting about this kind of humility. I suspect this was one of the reasons Welty and Maxwell shared such a long and close friendship, because she is as down-to-earth as he is, even when she is being showered with medals and honors.
I read this book very slowly, taking time to savor each word and event. I broke several times to read stories and novels by these writers that I had not yet read and which they were discussing between themselves. I read every footnote supplied by Suzanne Marrs, who copiously edited this compilation. Before the end of the year, I hope to read her biography of Welty, William Maxwell: A Literary Life by Barbara Burkhardt, and both Welty’s and Maxwell’s novels that I have not yet completed. It feels as if I could never spend too much time with them.
April 28, 2023
No explanation needed. Two of my favorite writers who were lifelong friends.
August 26, 2016
4.75 stars
Compiling and editing these letters had to be a massive undertaking and I congratulate the editor on her work. (The only tiny quibble I had was of a book mentioned by William Maxwell that is not annotated with the author's name as are all the other books mentioned in the letters, and I'm still not sure who wrote it.) Several years ago I attended a panel on Eudora Welty with Marrs as one of the panelists, and I know she's a Welty scholar (who became her friend) and this book also shows as a labor of love.
As far as the content goes, this couldn't be more wonderful for anyone who loves Welty or Maxwell, and is doubly valuable for those who love both. In the beginning, I stopped to read other things. But at some point I didn't want to stop. The letters grow in depth as the friendship grows, until you are pulled in so much you don't want the friendship to ever end, even as you know both are entering a great age.
I paused also to read works mentioned in these letters (I could've done that more often: it's so rich in the sharing of the works they recommend to each other) from Welty's The Ponder Heart to my rereading a speech given by Walker Percy (collected in Signposts in a Strange Land) in honor of an endowment named after Welty.
Marrs points out that there are no extant letters between these two referencing the relationship between Welty and Kenneth Millar, and she speculates as to the reasons why. My guess is that if there were any, Maxwell would've destroyed them, a clue (for me) being something he writes to Welty late in their lives:
The most poignant letter of all -- the one that will stay with me -- is from Maxwell in response to Welty's admitting she'd been in NYC and was too depressed to contact Maxwell and his wife (uncharacteristic of Welty, as they were always trying to arrange visits). The words Maxwell offers and the family story he tells in response are, not surprisingly for those who know his fiction, both simple and deep, and show that his calling Eudora "family" was never just mere talk.
Compiling and editing these letters had to be a massive undertaking and I congratulate the editor on her work. (The only tiny quibble I had was of a book mentioned by William Maxwell that is not annotated with the author's name as are all the other books mentioned in the letters, and I'm still not sure who wrote it.) Several years ago I attended a panel on Eudora Welty with Marrs as one of the panelists, and I know she's a Welty scholar (who became her friend) and this book also shows as a labor of love.
As far as the content goes, this couldn't be more wonderful for anyone who loves Welty or Maxwell, and is doubly valuable for those who love both. In the beginning, I stopped to read other things. But at some point I didn't want to stop. The letters grow in depth as the friendship grows, until you are pulled in so much you don't want the friendship to ever end, even as you know both are entering a great age.
I paused also to read works mentioned in these letters (I could've done that more often: it's so rich in the sharing of the works they recommend to each other) from Welty's The Ponder Heart to my rereading a speech given by Walker Percy (collected in Signposts in a Strange Land) in honor of an endowment named after Welty.
Marrs points out that there are no extant letters between these two referencing the relationship between Welty and Kenneth Millar, and she speculates as to the reasons why. My guess is that if there were any, Maxwell would've destroyed them, a clue (for me) being something he writes to Welty late in their lives:
I opened a volume of the Yeats/ Maude Gonne correspondence and read (from her) a short letter beginning Darling (or some such) and thought I have no business reading this letter and stopped.
The most poignant letter of all -- the one that will stay with me -- is from Maxwell in response to Welty's admitting she'd been in NYC and was too depressed to contact Maxwell and his wife (uncharacteristic of Welty, as they were always trying to arrange visits). The words Maxwell offers and the family story he tells in response are, not surprisingly for those who know his fiction, both simple and deep, and show that his calling Eudora "family" was never just mere talk.
March 23, 2021
Real Rating: 4.75* of five, not *quite* perfect but swimmin' in the same pond as it
How the hell have I never posted my review of this deliciousness here?!? *aaarrrgh*
Anyway, my 2017 blog review has been sitting there wondering why you don't come by when a lonely old man's day would be **MADE** if you did....
How the hell have I never posted my review of this deliciousness here?!? *aaarrrgh*
Anyway, my 2017 blog review has been sitting there wondering why you don't come by when a lonely old man's day would be **MADE** if you did....
June 29, 2011
Sometimes, our admiration for an author’s work may be tempered by learning about his or her less noble personal traits. For instance, T.S. Eliot’s “Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” remains my favorite poem, but indications of his anti-Semitism have made me grateful that I’ll never encounter the great poet off the page. Much more happily, a new collection of correspondence between Eudora Welty (1909-2001) and William Maxwell (1908-2000), ably edited by Welty scholar Suzanne Marrs, can only increase our appreciation for these two authors. It may even make us a little envious of the friendship that they shared for more than 50 years.
The book features more than 300 letters, most between Welty and Maxwell. Some of Welty’s letters address both Maxwell and his wife, Emmy. Marrs has also included several letters that Emmy Maxwell wrote to Welty herself. But, as Marrs rightly notes in the essential introduction to the book, “the focus here lies on the exchange between the two writers.” Marrs has organized the letters chronologically, “so that they may provide the autobiography of a friendship,” and in brief introductions to each chronological period, she offers useful background and context.
One reason Marrs’ introduction matters so much is this: The book unquestionably presents frequent and detailed editorial back-and-forth regarding fiction that Welty published in *The New Yorker*, where Maxwell (who may be remembered at least as much for his editorial career at that magazine as for his own writing) was perhaps her staunchest champion.
Yet the more personal elements of their correspondence – about their families, friends, travels, reading lists, and shared passion for roses – are utterly absorbing. Thus immersed in the minds and hearts of “Eudora” and “Bill,” one may nearly forget just how significant these two authors are in the annals of 20th-century American literature. But Marrs helpfully reminds us: “Eudora’s five collections of stories, three novellas, and two novels were matched by Bill’s six novels and five story collections. Both wrote books for children. Both published collections of their essays. Both wrote books dealing with family history.” Both received major awards, and, ultimately, the Library of America included two volumes of her work and two volumes of his in its prestigious series.
Yes, writers are likely to focus, laser-like, on letters such as those, filled with editorial queries, that accompanied galleys of Welty’s *New Yorker* stories as they made their way from New York to Jackson, Miss. Perhaps we’ll be captivated by correspondence from the late 1960s, in which Welty considered titles other than “The Optimist’s Daughter” for the story that ran in The New Yorker in March 1969 (and, in novel form, won the Pulitzer Prize four years later). On this matter, for instance, Maxwell responded: “I am still partial to ‘The Optimist’s Daughter’, because, by its ironic tone, it suggests a certain distance between the writer and the woman in the story, and because it also, again by its irony, suggests, matches, somehow, the full horror of the subject matter….Also, I like titles that don’t state the idea of the thing but are more oblique.”
Writers will also notice the lengths of time that elapse between Welty’s or Maxwell’s first mention of a particular work-in-progress—a story, a review, a novel—and that project’s completion. And a message like the one Maxwell dashed off to Welty while waiting for John Updike to fetch him from an airport imparts a certain literary delight.
But ultimately, the affection and admiration between these two individuals are what makes *What There Is to Say We Have Said* so inspiring. Following a phone call which left Maxwell especially concerned for his friend, he wrote: “If what I heard in your voice persists, will you drop everything and come to New York and settle down in the back room and let us hang garlands of love around your neck, day after day, until you are feeling yourself again?” As for Welty, her letters suggest that whenever even the possibility of a trip to or near New York arose, she informed Maxwell immediately to schedule at least one meal with him and his wife. Even better, she might see the two Maxwell daughters, too.
As my reading progressed, I dreaded its inevitable end. The writers age as their correspondence reaches its conclusion. They weaken. I realize that I have quoted Maxwell disproportionately, but I’m about to do so yet again. In 1993, as their correspondence slowed, he wrote: “Dearest Eudora, what there is to say we have said, in one way or another.” What a privilege for us, that so much of what there was to say we can overhear in this book.
(A version of this review appeared in *The Writer* magazine. Review copy provided by the publisher.)
The book features more than 300 letters, most between Welty and Maxwell. Some of Welty’s letters address both Maxwell and his wife, Emmy. Marrs has also included several letters that Emmy Maxwell wrote to Welty herself. But, as Marrs rightly notes in the essential introduction to the book, “the focus here lies on the exchange between the two writers.” Marrs has organized the letters chronologically, “so that they may provide the autobiography of a friendship,” and in brief introductions to each chronological period, she offers useful background and context.
One reason Marrs’ introduction matters so much is this: The book unquestionably presents frequent and detailed editorial back-and-forth regarding fiction that Welty published in *The New Yorker*, where Maxwell (who may be remembered at least as much for his editorial career at that magazine as for his own writing) was perhaps her staunchest champion.
Yet the more personal elements of their correspondence – about their families, friends, travels, reading lists, and shared passion for roses – are utterly absorbing. Thus immersed in the minds and hearts of “Eudora” and “Bill,” one may nearly forget just how significant these two authors are in the annals of 20th-century American literature. But Marrs helpfully reminds us: “Eudora’s five collections of stories, three novellas, and two novels were matched by Bill’s six novels and five story collections. Both wrote books for children. Both published collections of their essays. Both wrote books dealing with family history.” Both received major awards, and, ultimately, the Library of America included two volumes of her work and two volumes of his in its prestigious series.
Yes, writers are likely to focus, laser-like, on letters such as those, filled with editorial queries, that accompanied galleys of Welty’s *New Yorker* stories as they made their way from New York to Jackson, Miss. Perhaps we’ll be captivated by correspondence from the late 1960s, in which Welty considered titles other than “The Optimist’s Daughter” for the story that ran in The New Yorker in March 1969 (and, in novel form, won the Pulitzer Prize four years later). On this matter, for instance, Maxwell responded: “I am still partial to ‘The Optimist’s Daughter’, because, by its ironic tone, it suggests a certain distance between the writer and the woman in the story, and because it also, again by its irony, suggests, matches, somehow, the full horror of the subject matter….Also, I like titles that don’t state the idea of the thing but are more oblique.”
Writers will also notice the lengths of time that elapse between Welty’s or Maxwell’s first mention of a particular work-in-progress—a story, a review, a novel—and that project’s completion. And a message like the one Maxwell dashed off to Welty while waiting for John Updike to fetch him from an airport imparts a certain literary delight.
But ultimately, the affection and admiration between these two individuals are what makes *What There Is to Say We Have Said* so inspiring. Following a phone call which left Maxwell especially concerned for his friend, he wrote: “If what I heard in your voice persists, will you drop everything and come to New York and settle down in the back room and let us hang garlands of love around your neck, day after day, until you are feeling yourself again?” As for Welty, her letters suggest that whenever even the possibility of a trip to or near New York arose, she informed Maxwell immediately to schedule at least one meal with him and his wife. Even better, she might see the two Maxwell daughters, too.
As my reading progressed, I dreaded its inevitable end. The writers age as their correspondence reaches its conclusion. They weaken. I realize that I have quoted Maxwell disproportionately, but I’m about to do so yet again. In 1993, as their correspondence slowed, he wrote: “Dearest Eudora, what there is to say we have said, in one way or another.” What a privilege for us, that so much of what there was to say we can overhear in this book.
(A version of this review appeared in *The Writer* magazine. Review copy provided by the publisher.)
January 2, 2020
This book was recommended to me by a Goodreads friend because she knew I really liked William Maxwell's writing. Sometimes I whip through books...this was hard to do with this book, and I didn't try. In part because it was chock full of interesting well-crafted sentences, and in part because one got to know Bill and Eudora as one went through the ~450 page book, so I really didn't want it to end. And one got to know Eudora's mother and Bill's wife Emmy and his daughters Kate and Brookie. One tidbit among many was that his daughter Brookie did the dust jacket for his book So Long, See You Tomorrow. I think I went through about 40 pages a day. Suzanne Marrs did an excellent job of footnoting the letters... This might have been the first book I have read of correspondence between two people...this was so nice and interesting I think I want to do it again. If anybody has any recommendations about correspondence/letters books, please recommend! There was one recurring subject matter of the book that I did gloss over after coming upon it repeatedly, I confess, and that is their correspondence between different rose bushes they were collecting and planting around their homes! If one is an aficionado of roses, then you're in for a real treat!
May 9, 2011
This is one of those wonderful books that will increase your “simply have to read” list exponentially. Eudora Welty and William Maxwell wrote to each other about the stories, articles and books they had written and read, causing my copy of this collection of their correspondence to be marked up with arrows, pointing to the books and old magazine pieces I want to find and read for myself. Both were writers, but Bill Maxwell was also Eudora Welty’s editor at the New Yorker, and the letters they wrote during the editing of her stories are a fascinating glimpse into that polishing aspect of the creative process. Maxwell was gentle and supportive, making suggestions but always allowing Welty to have the final say.
They were such close friends that they appeared in each other’s dreams. They used a lot of typewriter ribbon comparing notes on garden flowers, especially roses, and they wrote graceful prose descriptions of their lives and their impressions of some of the memorable events of the time, including presidential elections from Eisenhower to Clinton, the civil rights era of the 60’s, the Comet Kohoutek, the Mt. Saint Helens eruption, and the happenings in the literary world. The end notes are a treasure, with lots of interesting additional information. As I read I used two bookmarks so I could easily reference them. With letters written between 1942 and 1996, this book should be a delight to anyone interested in the literature of that not so long ago era.
They were such close friends that they appeared in each other’s dreams. They used a lot of typewriter ribbon comparing notes on garden flowers, especially roses, and they wrote graceful prose descriptions of their lives and their impressions of some of the memorable events of the time, including presidential elections from Eisenhower to Clinton, the civil rights era of the 60’s, the Comet Kohoutek, the Mt. Saint Helens eruption, and the happenings in the literary world. The end notes are a treasure, with lots of interesting additional information. As I read I used two bookmarks so I could easily reference them. With letters written between 1942 and 1996, this book should be a delight to anyone interested in the literature of that not so long ago era.
November 1, 2024
A Literary Friendship
Eudora Welty (1909 -- 2001) and William Maxwell (1908 -- 2000) were gifted American authors whose lives virtually overlapped each other. The two writers enjoyed a long friendship lasting over fifty years. Maxwell lived in New York City while Welty lived in Jackson, Mississippi. Thus, even though they saw each other frequently, much of their friendship was carried on by means of correspondence. Suzanne Marrs, a long-term friend and biographer of Welty, has prepared and edited this volume of letters between Welty and Maxwell. Marrs has also written a useful introduction together with brief commentary on the letters extensive notes which identify the many references to literary people and to places and events in the correspondence.
I have read and admired books by both Welty and Maxwell and was pleased to have the opportunity to learn about both these writers and their relationship through this book. Maxwell spent more than 40 years as an editor for the New Yorker where he worked with many leading American authors, including Welty. Welty's writings were substantially better-known during her lifetime than those of her friend, but both author's received the prestigious Howells Medal of the National Academy of Arts and letters: Welty for "The Ponder Heart" and Maxwell for his final novel, "So Long, See You Tomorrow". Welty received a Pulitzer Prize and Maxwell the National Book Award among the many honors accorded to each writer.
The Welty-Maxwell correspondence begins in the mid-1940s when Maxwell was promoting her work for publication in the New Yorker. Several Welty stories were rejected at first, but ultimately the New Yorker published seven of her works all of which Maxwell edited. In the early 1950's, the friendship between the two deepened from what had started as a business relationship. The correspondence between the two becomes extensive and covers a wide variety of subjects discussed between erudite, articulate friends The reader learns a great deal about the authors. Marrs divides the correspondence into seven sections, each of which is prefaced by an appropriate line from the letters exchanged during the time. The time periods cover 1942-43, 1943-1954, 1954-1959, 1960-1966,, 1966-1970, 1971-1980, and 1981-1996. In their last years, both writers were plagued by age and illness. Welty was unable to continue the correspondence beyond 1991, but Maxwell continued to write until 1996.
Many of the letters discuss the writings of both Maxwell and Welty. Each says many valuable and almost unfailingly complimentary things about the work of the other. Maxwell was Welty's editor. I thought it instructive to see the tact with which he performed this thankless and unsung task with Welty. It was also valuable to see Welty accepting and responding to suggestions, not an easy matter for any writer. Besides commenting on each others work, Welty and Maxwell exchange views about and discuss many other authors, both their friends and contemporaries as well as earlier authors. Among these writers is the Danish storyteller, Isak Dinesen. Many other writers receive far move attention in the correspondence than Dinesen, but Maxwell offers a stunning short account of a brief conversation with Dinesen.
The two writers discuss common friends, travel, and family. Maxwell's wife Emily was an active part of the correspondence as Maxwell writes about her and the couple's two children. Welty never married but was much more gregarious than she is usually perceived. She writes to Maxwell about her aging mother and her brothers, all of whom die during the course of the correspondence. Besides literature and family, the most common subject of the letters is gardening as both Welty and Maxwell were lovers of and deeply knowledgeable about roses. The Maxwells and Welty exchanged presents on Christmas and other occasions, and much of the writing deals with the everyday and with reflections on the times they spent together.
The letters have an obviously literary, tactile bent. Welty and Maxwell were close observers of what they saw. (Welty was also a gifted photographer.) The detailed writer's eye and the love of language are apparent throughout the correspondence.
There are many wonderful passages, both short and long, in these letters, and they offer a good portrait of two authors writing for themselves and one another rather than for a public. The letters show a certain reticence in both parties which Marrs mentions but does not emphasize enough. The love between Welty and Maxwell is unmistakable, but I had the impression that the writers did not share their most personal feelings in their letters. The relationship was a man-woman friendship and does not show the suggestion of erotic interest by either party. The letters mention but do not dwell on difficult issues such as the death of family members, loneliness, or depression. Both writers experienced these and other troubles. There is an almost complete lack of sexuality in the letters, not only between the two friends, but as a subject to be discussed. Judging from the letters, Welty and Maxwell never had a falling-out over anything or even a moderate disagreement. When they discuss, as they do rarely, politics, their opinions are virtually identical. More importantly, both Maxwell and Welty seem to have almost the same literary taste. When they discuss authors or books, their views are interesting but frequently not lively. They seldom if ever disagree or question one another's judgment. Thus, although this book is undoubtedly rewarding, its length, its sometimes mundane character, and the lack of any tension in the relationship between Maxwell and Welty results in slow, bland reading in places.
Early in this book, I found a passage which struck close to home as a writer of reviews here on Amazon. Emily Maxwell writes to Welty about Welty's review of J.D. Salinger's "Nine Stories". She says: "I thought your review of [Salinger's] stories was penetrating and beautiful-- Like the best reviews it was within rather than outside the stories themselves." Emily Maxwell's praise of Welty offers a great deal of wisdom about the art of the short review that is worth taking to heart.
The Library of America includes two large volumes of the writings Welty and another two volumes devoted to Maxwell's books. This volume of letters encouraged me to revisit the works of both authors. It is for their published works that both authors deserve to be remembered.
Robin Friedman
Eudora Welty (1909 -- 2001) and William Maxwell (1908 -- 2000) were gifted American authors whose lives virtually overlapped each other. The two writers enjoyed a long friendship lasting over fifty years. Maxwell lived in New York City while Welty lived in Jackson, Mississippi. Thus, even though they saw each other frequently, much of their friendship was carried on by means of correspondence. Suzanne Marrs, a long-term friend and biographer of Welty, has prepared and edited this volume of letters between Welty and Maxwell. Marrs has also written a useful introduction together with brief commentary on the letters extensive notes which identify the many references to literary people and to places and events in the correspondence.
I have read and admired books by both Welty and Maxwell and was pleased to have the opportunity to learn about both these writers and their relationship through this book. Maxwell spent more than 40 years as an editor for the New Yorker where he worked with many leading American authors, including Welty. Welty's writings were substantially better-known during her lifetime than those of her friend, but both author's received the prestigious Howells Medal of the National Academy of Arts and letters: Welty for "The Ponder Heart" and Maxwell for his final novel, "So Long, See You Tomorrow". Welty received a Pulitzer Prize and Maxwell the National Book Award among the many honors accorded to each writer.
The Welty-Maxwell correspondence begins in the mid-1940s when Maxwell was promoting her work for publication in the New Yorker. Several Welty stories were rejected at first, but ultimately the New Yorker published seven of her works all of which Maxwell edited. In the early 1950's, the friendship between the two deepened from what had started as a business relationship. The correspondence between the two becomes extensive and covers a wide variety of subjects discussed between erudite, articulate friends The reader learns a great deal about the authors. Marrs divides the correspondence into seven sections, each of which is prefaced by an appropriate line from the letters exchanged during the time. The time periods cover 1942-43, 1943-1954, 1954-1959, 1960-1966,, 1966-1970, 1971-1980, and 1981-1996. In their last years, both writers were plagued by age and illness. Welty was unable to continue the correspondence beyond 1991, but Maxwell continued to write until 1996.
Many of the letters discuss the writings of both Maxwell and Welty. Each says many valuable and almost unfailingly complimentary things about the work of the other. Maxwell was Welty's editor. I thought it instructive to see the tact with which he performed this thankless and unsung task with Welty. It was also valuable to see Welty accepting and responding to suggestions, not an easy matter for any writer. Besides commenting on each others work, Welty and Maxwell exchange views about and discuss many other authors, both their friends and contemporaries as well as earlier authors. Among these writers is the Danish storyteller, Isak Dinesen. Many other writers receive far move attention in the correspondence than Dinesen, but Maxwell offers a stunning short account of a brief conversation with Dinesen.
The two writers discuss common friends, travel, and family. Maxwell's wife Emily was an active part of the correspondence as Maxwell writes about her and the couple's two children. Welty never married but was much more gregarious than she is usually perceived. She writes to Maxwell about her aging mother and her brothers, all of whom die during the course of the correspondence. Besides literature and family, the most common subject of the letters is gardening as both Welty and Maxwell were lovers of and deeply knowledgeable about roses. The Maxwells and Welty exchanged presents on Christmas and other occasions, and much of the writing deals with the everyday and with reflections on the times they spent together.
The letters have an obviously literary, tactile bent. Welty and Maxwell were close observers of what they saw. (Welty was also a gifted photographer.) The detailed writer's eye and the love of language are apparent throughout the correspondence.
There are many wonderful passages, both short and long, in these letters, and they offer a good portrait of two authors writing for themselves and one another rather than for a public. The letters show a certain reticence in both parties which Marrs mentions but does not emphasize enough. The love between Welty and Maxwell is unmistakable, but I had the impression that the writers did not share their most personal feelings in their letters. The relationship was a man-woman friendship and does not show the suggestion of erotic interest by either party. The letters mention but do not dwell on difficult issues such as the death of family members, loneliness, or depression. Both writers experienced these and other troubles. There is an almost complete lack of sexuality in the letters, not only between the two friends, but as a subject to be discussed. Judging from the letters, Welty and Maxwell never had a falling-out over anything or even a moderate disagreement. When they discuss, as they do rarely, politics, their opinions are virtually identical. More importantly, both Maxwell and Welty seem to have almost the same literary taste. When they discuss authors or books, their views are interesting but frequently not lively. They seldom if ever disagree or question one another's judgment. Thus, although this book is undoubtedly rewarding, its length, its sometimes mundane character, and the lack of any tension in the relationship between Maxwell and Welty results in slow, bland reading in places.
Early in this book, I found a passage which struck close to home as a writer of reviews here on Amazon. Emily Maxwell writes to Welty about Welty's review of J.D. Salinger's "Nine Stories". She says: "I thought your review of [Salinger's] stories was penetrating and beautiful-- Like the best reviews it was within rather than outside the stories themselves." Emily Maxwell's praise of Welty offers a great deal of wisdom about the art of the short review that is worth taking to heart.
The Library of America includes two large volumes of the writings Welty and another two volumes devoted to Maxwell's books. This volume of letters encouraged me to revisit the works of both authors. It is for their published works that both authors deserve to be remembered.
Robin Friedman
July 9, 2024
I almost never write reviews, but I absolutely couldn’t resist. This book of correspondence was delightful, delicious, and deep. I recommend it to the world.
September 22, 2016
What There Is To Say We Have Said is one of my most anticipated books - well, ever. Maxwell is one of my favourite writers (and it pains me that he is so little known), and I very much admire Welty. Regardless, I knew little about them as individuals, so when I spotted this volume, I immediately put it at the top of my birthday list.
Marrs' introduction is wonderful. She writes with such passion, and compassion, for her subjects. From the very beginning, I knew that I would have loved to meet both of those whom Marrs clearly deeply admires. Welty was an incredibly sassy, shrewd woman; of Jane Austen's house, she wrote that it 'looks big, but is really small. The opposite of her novels.' Bill, who struck up a wondrous friendship with her, was an incredibly humble, humane man, filled with a myriad of thoughts, and devoted to all of those around him.
It goes without saying that both are incredible writers. Learning about the process of their craft was fascinating enough, but getting to know the pair as individuals was far more rewarding. That rare thing is so evident here; that enduring friendship, built upon mutual respect, which was all the more cherished as the two lived far from one another (Maxwell in New York, and Welty in Mississippi). They could see one another only at long intervals, but in some ways, both found this beneficial; the therapeutic motion of penning (semi-) regular letters to one another lasted for decades, and much was learnt about the other in consequence.
What There Is To Say We Have Said is a stunning read, and I was a little sad when I came to its end. Throughout, one is nudged to remember just how important communication is (and just how much the majority of us in the modern world almost instantaneous communication for granted), and how beautiful the art of letter writing. There is not a single dull sentence in this 450-page long volume, and if it had been twice as long, I would have been thrilled.
I could type out quotes at length here, but I shall leave you, dear reader, with the ones which really touched me:
- Maxwell to Welty: 'There are enough similarities in our two childhoods to make me feel [...] that they grew up on a tandem bicycle.'
- Maxwell to Welty, on the publication of one of her works: 'But I wanted to write to you now, because when a book first comes out, it is really like a party, and when I am invited to a party, I like to come early.'
Marrs' introduction is wonderful. She writes with such passion, and compassion, for her subjects. From the very beginning, I knew that I would have loved to meet both of those whom Marrs clearly deeply admires. Welty was an incredibly sassy, shrewd woman; of Jane Austen's house, she wrote that it 'looks big, but is really small. The opposite of her novels.' Bill, who struck up a wondrous friendship with her, was an incredibly humble, humane man, filled with a myriad of thoughts, and devoted to all of those around him.
It goes without saying that both are incredible writers. Learning about the process of their craft was fascinating enough, but getting to know the pair as individuals was far more rewarding. That rare thing is so evident here; that enduring friendship, built upon mutual respect, which was all the more cherished as the two lived far from one another (Maxwell in New York, and Welty in Mississippi). They could see one another only at long intervals, but in some ways, both found this beneficial; the therapeutic motion of penning (semi-) regular letters to one another lasted for decades, and much was learnt about the other in consequence.
What There Is To Say We Have Said is a stunning read, and I was a little sad when I came to its end. Throughout, one is nudged to remember just how important communication is (and just how much the majority of us in the modern world almost instantaneous communication for granted), and how beautiful the art of letter writing. There is not a single dull sentence in this 450-page long volume, and if it had been twice as long, I would have been thrilled.
I could type out quotes at length here, but I shall leave you, dear reader, with the ones which really touched me:
- Maxwell to Welty: 'There are enough similarities in our two childhoods to make me feel [...] that they grew up on a tandem bicycle.'
- Maxwell to Welty, on the publication of one of her works: 'But I wanted to write to you now, because when a book first comes out, it is really like a party, and when I am invited to a party, I like to come early.'
February 5, 2021
An absolute delight. This group of letters includes, among its gems, a very young Welty's letter of application to work at the New Yorker. I certainly identify with this line: "[this is] how my mind works--quick and away from the point. I read simply voraciously, and can drum up an opinion afterwards."
Maxwell and Welty formed a tight bond as he edited her work for the magazine and she visited him and his wife, Emmy (who also sounds quite wonderful in Maxwell's comments and in her own notes to Welty, which include a good amount of discussion about gardens and roses). Maxwell and Welty are thoughtful and articulate and straightforward in their approach to language and literature. I love their unhurried back-and-forth discussions of, for example, whether or not to add commas or parentheses to Welty's stories (Welty: "I remember Mark Twain said somewhere that anybody that would wantonly use a parenthesis would steal") or whether Welty's using the southern idiom "carry him home" rather than "drive him home" would be legible to NYer readers.
Over the years, their friendship grows stronger, and they expose more of their lives to one another. Theirs was a gentle friendship and I loved the nuances as they trusted one another more and more. Both of these writers were such kind, generous-hearted people.
There is much pleasure to be found from larger issues, but I also found joy in many of the tiny details of these letters, such as a 1953 letter from Emmy that mentions that she and Bill were about to board their ship to Europe packing "sandwiches, chocolate cake, and champagne." Perfect.
Maxwell and Welty formed a tight bond as he edited her work for the magazine and she visited him and his wife, Emmy (who also sounds quite wonderful in Maxwell's comments and in her own notes to Welty, which include a good amount of discussion about gardens and roses). Maxwell and Welty are thoughtful and articulate and straightforward in their approach to language and literature. I love their unhurried back-and-forth discussions of, for example, whether or not to add commas or parentheses to Welty's stories (Welty: "I remember Mark Twain said somewhere that anybody that would wantonly use a parenthesis would steal") or whether Welty's using the southern idiom "carry him home" rather than "drive him home" would be legible to NYer readers.
Over the years, their friendship grows stronger, and they expose more of their lives to one another. Theirs was a gentle friendship and I loved the nuances as they trusted one another more and more. Both of these writers were such kind, generous-hearted people.
There is much pleasure to be found from larger issues, but I also found joy in many of the tiny details of these letters, such as a 1953 letter from Emmy that mentions that she and Bill were about to board their ship to Europe packing "sandwiches, chocolate cake, and champagne." Perfect.
November 14, 2011
This book was absolutely beautiful. I'm already a big fan of William Maxwell, and will now search out something by Eudora Welty to enjoy.
Welty and Maxwell were writers and friends for over fifty years. They shared their fears, concerns about family, sniffles, weather, book suggestions, and a mutual longing to sit together and laugh. It was a joy to see how a friendship SHOULD work - without jealousy, without anger, without pride, with love - and it made me long to live in a time when we all had time (and enough land!) to garden.
Welty and Maxwell were writers and friends for over fifty years. They shared their fears, concerns about family, sniffles, weather, book suggestions, and a mutual longing to sit together and laugh. It was a joy to see how a friendship SHOULD work - without jealousy, without anger, without pride, with love - and it made me long to live in a time when we all had time (and enough land!) to garden.
July 2, 2013
This is a bedside kind of book, and I dip in and out. Two lovely voices from what feels like a distant, distant past. I like how they talk about literature, the weather, and their roses—the roses especially, as if they were friends to gossip about. If I wasn't already interested in growing them, I would be now.
May 29, 2018
Reading the correspondence of two writers is an acquired taste, and for those who have it, What There Is To Say We Have Said provides a sumptuous feast. Beginning with "Dear Miss Welty," William Maxwell grounds the exchange in the respect that one fine writer experiences when recognizing extraordinary talent in another. From there, their letters expand upon their mutual admiration to a recognition of other shared experiences and loves of the written word, various places, and roses--always roses. The shared experiences grow forward and together, from their professional relationship as writer and editor to familial love that may very well be stronger than most blood ties, as Eudora meets, embraces and is embraced by Maxwell's wife, Emily, and their two daughters, Kate and Brookie, and the Maxwell family likewise enfold into their lives Welty's mother, Chestina, and two nieces. Together they celebrate successes, give each other well-earned praise, and shore each other up in the face of losing loved ones and staring into the twilight of their waning years. Like the roses they both adore, their relationship buds and blossoms into something of extraordinary natural beauty, unblemished by personal disputes or the sort of biting gossip or catty remarks toward other writers that sometimes mar similar exchanges. It is the very personal chronicle of two artists who explore and reveal humanity with great empathy, compassion and understanding.
If there is any sad aspect to this collection, it is the understanding that fifty years from now there is unlikely to be a similar exchange between two writers of the present era, since letter writing of this sort, and perhaps relationships of this nature, are not the fashion of the day. That provides all the more reason to treasure this correspondence for its rarity.
If there is any sad aspect to this collection, it is the understanding that fifty years from now there is unlikely to be a similar exchange between two writers of the present era, since letter writing of this sort, and perhaps relationships of this nature, are not the fashion of the day. That provides all the more reason to treasure this correspondence for its rarity.
February 22, 2020
I never read entire books of people's letters. However, I couldn't put this one down. I only discovered William Maxwell, as a writer not just an editor, when he died and I read the incredible praise from other writers for his prose. Recently, I can't get enough of his writing. But, this is of another sort entirely. These are the letters of two people who share a love of the written word, who admire each other entirely and cherish their friendship. I honestly could not put it down. I also was constantly learning about other writers that I wanted to read based on their good opinions. I hated coming to the end of it.
February 7, 2021
I loved this compilation of delightful and charming letters so much; the correspondences between Eudora Welty and William Maxwell (and Maxwell’s wife Emmy, herself a professional writer, among other things, and her letter of, say, 8 June 1971 suggests that she would have been no less worthy of renown in her own right) feel like the platonic ideals of letters. Welty’s em dashes and Mr. Maxwell’s fragments give every indication that they are bursting with things to say (and perhaps a bit relieved to be freed of the formal constraints of an editor–author relationship). The informality restores the intimacy and immediacy implied by the choice to write a letter that can be offset by the delay of delivery time as well, perhaps, as by a desire to polish one’s work; these letters relay the very impulse to write one, and the persistent thought of one that triggers that impulse. They convey explicitly what is often the implicit subtext of a letter, which is a desire for physical closeness, expressed by sending it over time and distance; there is one touching passage where Maxwell discloses plans of his and Emmy’s to visit a mutual friend, and tells Welty to leave the night free so they can all be together in spirit.
The letters accomplish a feat of world-building and character development that novelists could only dream of, and so effectively that I never bothered to picture their lives outside of the context of what is mentioned here; it feels as if their whole relationship is included in its entirety, and they constantly build on their shared history, adding joint memories and experiences and referring back to previous ones. Quick lists meant to evoke recent visits elicit imaginations of those scenes so nearly as to have been a full recounting. Each often mentions seeing and imagining events the other has written about, or even vacations or other events they know are still upcoming, and we get the chance to do the same on both sides. One imagines the letters themselves serving as tangible artifacts of their connections, in the same way that they speak of copies of speeches given to each other as perpetuating memories of events that they are able to join each other at, or of private publications as commemorating the experience of working on projects together.
Welty and the Maxwells share details of their common interests, which are many; “Bill closes one letter with “Well it’s wonderful to be alive. Wonderful to be a writer. Wonderful to grow roses. Wonderful to care. Isn’t it?” and Welty indirectly replies in a letter a while afterwards, asking him to “let me know about yourself, Emmy, Kate [one of the Maxwells’ daughters], roses, novel, floods.” Welty and Mr. Maxwell deploy long lists of the joys of their own lives, and even more frequently, the joys they take in the joys of the other; when they exchange the same gift one holiday, it makes total sense, because of their shared interests, tastes, and thoughtfulness. They share delights of speech that they have overheard that can’t necessarily be incorporated into their writing elsewhere. They need nothing eventful to occur for their letters to be events in themselves; many of the most delightful descriptions are of ordinary days free of incident. There is an informal and casual completeness to their accounting of time—they note in the text of their letters interruptions for meetings, phone calls, wildlife observation, and runs to the post office or the train station; occasionally, the letters are resumed with a simple, unexplained “Later—”. There is a wonderfully organic feel to the construction of their correspondence, with fragments tacked on to sentences in cascades that feel utterly conversational; one can see too, in such sequences, thought patterns as they develop.
As far as their exchanges can get from professional duties, their discussion of her work is no less delightful. Resisting a suggested change, Welty writes that “[I} still feel I like [a given word choice] in the trunk & costumes image in the parlor, though not violently”; elsewhere, she asks for his advice regarding whether a manuscript sentence should be in parentheses, adding (in another parenthetical sentence) “I remember Mark Twain said somewhere that anybody that would wantonly use a parenthesis would steal,” her caring more out of a sense of conservation than of scrupulousness. Later, working on the same set of galleys, Maxwell jokes that “by inserting that ‘had’ in the sentence [...] you have destroyed the sequence of tenses—in some states a hanging offense.”
There is a clearly established mutual respect and deference; Maxwell often describes his overruling of inane lines of editing and questioning from other editors at The New Yorker, and notes of a set of galleys, “You don’t have to justify any disagreement with any suggestion or correction on the galleys. Just cross it out or say ‘no’ or something simple like that that will save you work.” Welty in turn does what she can to make his load lighter—“I yield to the New Yorker in punctuation for knowing better than I do” (she admits an imperfect grasp of technical correctness when it comes to grammar and punctuation, whereas Maxwell’s confessed weakness is spelling)—although not at the cost of the right choice for a story; there is a thrilling thoughtfulness and precision to the way she describes a character as “a lady of dashes, I think, with lots of afterthoughts and sudden additions to what she's saying, and not a lady of the considered semicolon, and when it was a question of the little mark or the character, I chose [the character].” There is such a shared joy to their crafting of Welty’s work together that it is no surprise that one cherished set of photographs is simply of the two of them standing over a manuscript of hers as they polish it for hours, a rare opportunity for them to collaborate in person on the editing process.
Welty’s value of Maxwell’s input is clear in a line like “I wrote a children's book ‘in my spare time,’ don’t know if it’s good or bad, but when it’s typed I know who to send it to to find out,” and though her input was in a non-formal capacity, he clearly valued her input on his output as well. Their evaluations often produce wonderful snippets of criticism—no surprise, given that both Maxwell and Welty did a healthy amount of book reviewing—with Maxwell saying of a Welty essay that “[i]t gives itself gradually, as a story does, or a piece of serious music,” and elsewhere saying of another essay of hers that “this is the way all writing ought to be, a marvel, a joy, a joke, an experience in itself, something seen in an Easter egg, a treasure.” Both Welty and Maxwell worked for so long on stories and novels that one gets to track their progress over an extended period, as they encourage one another and eagerly await any new material, but without being too aggressive or solicitous.
They edit themselves in their letters, too: Welty once notes “(This sentence was a rambler.),” aware of it but not minding; Maxwell appends a sentence of his with “—this sentence turns out not to have any ending.”; Welty asks in the middle of one of hers, “—how did I begin this sentence—“; and elsewhere she says “(Don’t know how to correct or improve that sentence.)” in another aside. They jokily deprecate themselves for their vocabulary choices—“(What does this mean, & how do you spell it?)” says Welty after her use of “calibre,” and Maxwell follows the use of “valetudinarian” with “(heavens, the thing slipped out).” Welty at one point backtracks mid-sentence to change a choice: “Mr. Hennessey wrote me about Cl. Ruth, which I yielded to his blandishments and ordered—blandishments? Threats.”
Their letters frequently end with them hoping to write better and longer at another time, which, beyond making one wonder how these letters could have been any better written, also makes on the realize that the wish for a letter to have been better is almost implicitly true of all letters—one that is actually written is a compromised effort by virtue of its existence, its diminished quality the price one pays for getting it down at all. That the innate trueness of this hasn’t occurred to me with any other collected correspondence that I’ve read makes me realize that those come closer to curated writing rather than a pure expression of spirit, and perhaps that is why these feel so personal—almost magical. The collection is beautifully edited in general, though my one regret is that the editor wanted to balance the number of letters included from each party, so some are excluded, resulting in occasional gaps where one isn’t always aware of the exact details being replied to, but this isn’t a cause for regret, so much as just the idea that there’s any further material this delectable that we have to miss out on.
The letters accomplish a feat of world-building and character development that novelists could only dream of, and so effectively that I never bothered to picture their lives outside of the context of what is mentioned here; it feels as if their whole relationship is included in its entirety, and they constantly build on their shared history, adding joint memories and experiences and referring back to previous ones. Quick lists meant to evoke recent visits elicit imaginations of those scenes so nearly as to have been a full recounting. Each often mentions seeing and imagining events the other has written about, or even vacations or other events they know are still upcoming, and we get the chance to do the same on both sides. One imagines the letters themselves serving as tangible artifacts of their connections, in the same way that they speak of copies of speeches given to each other as perpetuating memories of events that they are able to join each other at, or of private publications as commemorating the experience of working on projects together.
Welty and the Maxwells share details of their common interests, which are many; “Bill closes one letter with “Well it’s wonderful to be alive. Wonderful to be a writer. Wonderful to grow roses. Wonderful to care. Isn’t it?” and Welty indirectly replies in a letter a while afterwards, asking him to “let me know about yourself, Emmy, Kate [one of the Maxwells’ daughters], roses, novel, floods.” Welty and Mr. Maxwell deploy long lists of the joys of their own lives, and even more frequently, the joys they take in the joys of the other; when they exchange the same gift one holiday, it makes total sense, because of their shared interests, tastes, and thoughtfulness. They share delights of speech that they have overheard that can’t necessarily be incorporated into their writing elsewhere. They need nothing eventful to occur for their letters to be events in themselves; many of the most delightful descriptions are of ordinary days free of incident. There is an informal and casual completeness to their accounting of time—they note in the text of their letters interruptions for meetings, phone calls, wildlife observation, and runs to the post office or the train station; occasionally, the letters are resumed with a simple, unexplained “Later—”. There is a wonderfully organic feel to the construction of their correspondence, with fragments tacked on to sentences in cascades that feel utterly conversational; one can see too, in such sequences, thought patterns as they develop.
As far as their exchanges can get from professional duties, their discussion of her work is no less delightful. Resisting a suggested change, Welty writes that “[I} still feel I like [a given word choice] in the trunk & costumes image in the parlor, though not violently”; elsewhere, she asks for his advice regarding whether a manuscript sentence should be in parentheses, adding (in another parenthetical sentence) “I remember Mark Twain said somewhere that anybody that would wantonly use a parenthesis would steal,” her caring more out of a sense of conservation than of scrupulousness. Later, working on the same set of galleys, Maxwell jokes that “by inserting that ‘had’ in the sentence [...] you have destroyed the sequence of tenses—in some states a hanging offense.”
There is a clearly established mutual respect and deference; Maxwell often describes his overruling of inane lines of editing and questioning from other editors at The New Yorker, and notes of a set of galleys, “You don’t have to justify any disagreement with any suggestion or correction on the galleys. Just cross it out or say ‘no’ or something simple like that that will save you work.” Welty in turn does what she can to make his load lighter—“I yield to the New Yorker in punctuation for knowing better than I do” (she admits an imperfect grasp of technical correctness when it comes to grammar and punctuation, whereas Maxwell’s confessed weakness is spelling)—although not at the cost of the right choice for a story; there is a thrilling thoughtfulness and precision to the way she describes a character as “a lady of dashes, I think, with lots of afterthoughts and sudden additions to what she's saying, and not a lady of the considered semicolon, and when it was a question of the little mark or the character, I chose [the character].” There is such a shared joy to their crafting of Welty’s work together that it is no surprise that one cherished set of photographs is simply of the two of them standing over a manuscript of hers as they polish it for hours, a rare opportunity for them to collaborate in person on the editing process.
Welty’s value of Maxwell’s input is clear in a line like “I wrote a children's book ‘in my spare time,’ don’t know if it’s good or bad, but when it’s typed I know who to send it to to find out,” and though her input was in a non-formal capacity, he clearly valued her input on his output as well. Their evaluations often produce wonderful snippets of criticism—no surprise, given that both Maxwell and Welty did a healthy amount of book reviewing—with Maxwell saying of a Welty essay that “[i]t gives itself gradually, as a story does, or a piece of serious music,” and elsewhere saying of another essay of hers that “this is the way all writing ought to be, a marvel, a joy, a joke, an experience in itself, something seen in an Easter egg, a treasure.” Both Welty and Maxwell worked for so long on stories and novels that one gets to track their progress over an extended period, as they encourage one another and eagerly await any new material, but without being too aggressive or solicitous.
They edit themselves in their letters, too: Welty once notes “(This sentence was a rambler.),” aware of it but not minding; Maxwell appends a sentence of his with “—this sentence turns out not to have any ending.”; Welty asks in the middle of one of hers, “—how did I begin this sentence—“; and elsewhere she says “(Don’t know how to correct or improve that sentence.)” in another aside. They jokily deprecate themselves for their vocabulary choices—“(What does this mean, & how do you spell it?)” says Welty after her use of “calibre,” and Maxwell follows the use of “valetudinarian” with “(heavens, the thing slipped out).” Welty at one point backtracks mid-sentence to change a choice: “Mr. Hennessey wrote me about Cl. Ruth, which I yielded to his blandishments and ordered—blandishments? Threats.”
Their letters frequently end with them hoping to write better and longer at another time, which, beyond making one wonder how these letters could have been any better written, also makes on the realize that the wish for a letter to have been better is almost implicitly true of all letters—one that is actually written is a compromised effort by virtue of its existence, its diminished quality the price one pays for getting it down at all. That the innate trueness of this hasn’t occurred to me with any other collected correspondence that I’ve read makes me realize that those come closer to curated writing rather than a pure expression of spirit, and perhaps that is why these feel so personal—almost magical. The collection is beautifully edited in general, though my one regret is that the editor wanted to balance the number of letters included from each party, so some are excluded, resulting in occasional gaps where one isn’t always aware of the exact details being replied to, but this isn’t a cause for regret, so much as just the idea that there’s any further material this delectable that we have to miss out on.
July 10, 2011
One magical evening in 1942, William Maxwell attended a party at which Eudora Welty told a story that completely enchanted him. It took until 1951, but Maxwell persevered until he convinced The New Yorker to accept a story of hers to publish. Well before that publication, they were writing to each other, exchanging news of roses, food, family, books and music, with Maxwell's wife Emily and Welty writing to each other as well.
For more than 50 years, they continued to write to each other. One of the world's great literary friendships is preserved in What There is to Say We Have Said, meticulously edited by Welty biographer and friend Suzanne Marrs.
The introduction by Marrs sets the loveliest tone about friendship by quoting Welty's own introduction to the famed Norton Book of Friendship. It brings to mind long-lasting friendships formed online, where we put ideas, hopes, dreams and disappointments into words to each other every day.
Their exchanges about writing itself as not as plentiful as a greedy reader would like. But the line-by-line edits they discuss over the work that was published in the magazine are master classes of how a careful and loving editor makes the finished work better but does not get in the way of the writer.
Welty and the Maxwells also do other people's fiction the honor of taking it on its own terms as they discuss other writers who they adore and whose work they admire, especially Katherine Anne Porter and Elizabeth Bowen.
The Maxwells also are protective of Welty, especially in later years as the honors bestowed on her, and the demands on her time, increase, even though it's highly doubtful her bank account did. On at least two occasions, Maxwell asks Welty to come live with them and be cared for. Maxwell also shines as a courtly gentleman of decency. Never a word is written that exists between them about Welty's love for Ross McDonald, who was married. Instead, there is rejoicing at the accomplishments of the two Maxwell daughters and Welty's nieces.
They bear their gradual declines with grace. Welty was in such poor health that no letters from her exist after 1990, 11 years before she died, while Maxwell's last letter was written in 1996, four years before he died. But as the letter from which this collection's title is taken states, these friends shared their ideas and lives for more than 50 years so whatever they could have said they probably did.
And for those who treasure the earnest searching that results in honest writing about the ins and outs of the human heart, there is much to ponder over in these letters. They lead to a desire to read again or discover for the first time the sheer pleasure of the fiction of both Maxwell and Welty. The letters are a testament to friendship, and they are a balm in these days of betrayal, backstabbing and bitterness.
For more than 50 years, they continued to write to each other. One of the world's great literary friendships is preserved in What There is to Say We Have Said, meticulously edited by Welty biographer and friend Suzanne Marrs.
The introduction by Marrs sets the loveliest tone about friendship by quoting Welty's own introduction to the famed Norton Book of Friendship. It brings to mind long-lasting friendships formed online, where we put ideas, hopes, dreams and disappointments into words to each other every day.
Their exchanges about writing itself as not as plentiful as a greedy reader would like. But the line-by-line edits they discuss over the work that was published in the magazine are master classes of how a careful and loving editor makes the finished work better but does not get in the way of the writer.
Welty and the Maxwells also do other people's fiction the honor of taking it on its own terms as they discuss other writers who they adore and whose work they admire, especially Katherine Anne Porter and Elizabeth Bowen.
The Maxwells also are protective of Welty, especially in later years as the honors bestowed on her, and the demands on her time, increase, even though it's highly doubtful her bank account did. On at least two occasions, Maxwell asks Welty to come live with them and be cared for. Maxwell also shines as a courtly gentleman of decency. Never a word is written that exists between them about Welty's love for Ross McDonald, who was married. Instead, there is rejoicing at the accomplishments of the two Maxwell daughters and Welty's nieces.
They bear their gradual declines with grace. Welty was in such poor health that no letters from her exist after 1990, 11 years before she died, while Maxwell's last letter was written in 1996, four years before he died. But as the letter from which this collection's title is taken states, these friends shared their ideas and lives for more than 50 years so whatever they could have said they probably did.
And for those who treasure the earnest searching that results in honest writing about the ins and outs of the human heart, there is much to ponder over in these letters. They lead to a desire to read again or discover for the first time the sheer pleasure of the fiction of both Maxwell and Welty. The letters are a testament to friendship, and they are a balm in these days of betrayal, backstabbing and bitterness.
August 6, 2011
There is no more joyous find than the exchange of true friends and great minds, such is the gift of Bill Maxwell and Eudora Welty’s letters.
The art of letter writing, it seems, is a thing of the past and died when computers began appearing in everyone’s home. Email and instant messaging is so much easier and quicker and there is no need to wait for the mailman to bring news of friends and family.
In 1942 William Maxwell and Eudora Welty began corresponding, Bill because he had read and was interested in procuring Eudora’s stories for The New Yorker, thus beginning a beautiful friendship that lasted for fifty years. What There is to Say We Have Said contains some of their letters, from 1942 to 1996, and they are a revelation and a joy.
Too often, I view letters as listening in on a private conversation. Had Suzanne Marrs followed my thinking, she would have denied me the pleasure of the lasting friendship between two writers at the height of their power and the very real people they became to me through their letters. Marrs has chosen well and I am richer for having been privileged into Bill and Eudora’s world. The only thing I could have wished was to be with them at the round table at the Algonquin or a guest during their many visits together.
The letters also include Bill’s wife Emily’s correspondence to and from Eudora, Emmy as they call her, and provide another viewpoint into the lives of two master writers.
No two people were more suited to each other than Bill and Eudora. Both writers reveled in the word, playing infinitely with combinations and connections, and they also shared a love of roses, not just roses, but flowers and life, adding observations that ring with authenticity and are brimming with their love for the word and for each other’s friendship. What There is to Say We Have Said is a treasure trove of observations and snippets of the wonder Bill and Eudora created and found in other writers, a history of the love of words and the world. I have enjoyed being an eavesdropper and plan to visit often.
The art of letter writing, it seems, is a thing of the past and died when computers began appearing in everyone’s home. Email and instant messaging is so much easier and quicker and there is no need to wait for the mailman to bring news of friends and family.
In 1942 William Maxwell and Eudora Welty began corresponding, Bill because he had read and was interested in procuring Eudora’s stories for The New Yorker, thus beginning a beautiful friendship that lasted for fifty years. What There is to Say We Have Said contains some of their letters, from 1942 to 1996, and they are a revelation and a joy.
Too often, I view letters as listening in on a private conversation. Had Suzanne Marrs followed my thinking, she would have denied me the pleasure of the lasting friendship between two writers at the height of their power and the very real people they became to me through their letters. Marrs has chosen well and I am richer for having been privileged into Bill and Eudora’s world. The only thing I could have wished was to be with them at the round table at the Algonquin or a guest during their many visits together.
The letters also include Bill’s wife Emily’s correspondence to and from Eudora, Emmy as they call her, and provide another viewpoint into the lives of two master writers.
No two people were more suited to each other than Bill and Eudora. Both writers reveled in the word, playing infinitely with combinations and connections, and they also shared a love of roses, not just roses, but flowers and life, adding observations that ring with authenticity and are brimming with their love for the word and for each other’s friendship. What There is to Say We Have Said is a treasure trove of observations and snippets of the wonder Bill and Eudora created and found in other writers, a history of the love of words and the world. I have enjoyed being an eavesdropper and plan to visit often.
July 28, 2011
I don't have time to spill out all of the ways this collection is wonderful. These were two lovely, admirable people who were devoted friends--and warm, wonderful writers. The letters span 54 years (!) and paint a detailed portrait of the authors' lives and careers. Maxwell edited Welty's fiction at The New Yorker and was her tireless champion, and Welty came to be a dear friend of both him and his wife--truly just shy of a member of their family.
I got more and more practiced at skimming talk of gardening, a shared passion--but was careful to skim lightly, because lovely stuff could pop out of those exchanges as well. If you haven't read Maxwell's work, I highly recommend it. Now, my confession: I've only read a few of Welty's short stories, and her non-fiction about writing (The Eye of the Story) and her development as a writer (One Writer's Beginnings, I believe it's called). To date, I've otherwise bounced off her work--have found it too densely idiomatic (read: I get lost in the Southern stuff) and crowded with characters. But I'm going to read The Optimist's Daughter and, if I've found the knack of reading her, Losing Battles.
I got more and more practiced at skimming talk of gardening, a shared passion--but was careful to skim lightly, because lovely stuff could pop out of those exchanges as well. If you haven't read Maxwell's work, I highly recommend it. Now, my confession: I've only read a few of Welty's short stories, and her non-fiction about writing (The Eye of the Story) and her development as a writer (One Writer's Beginnings, I believe it's called). To date, I've otherwise bounced off her work--have found it too densely idiomatic (read: I get lost in the Southern stuff) and crowded with characters. But I'm going to read The Optimist's Daughter and, if I've found the knack of reading her, Losing Battles.
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January 2, 2021Beautiful collection of letters between Eudora Welty and New Yorker editor/writer William Maxwell--they wrote to each other for most of their adult lives. With helpful biographical and literary info from editor and Welty scholar Suzanne Marrs.
July 20, 2014
First read 5/21/11-6/18/11--Just as interesting and enjoyable the second time through.
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If I could give this book six stars, I would. The correspondence between William Maxwell and Eudora Welty started in 1942 and continued for 54 years. This selection of letters lets the reader peek over the shoulders of two marvelous letter writers as they converse about books, family, writing, gardening, politics, friends and the literary 'biz'.
"Dashes I like better than parentheses--remembering Mark Twain's remark from somewhere, "He who would wantonly use a parenthesis would steal"--so, if you agree, dash it.". Eudora Welty
"Glenway (Westcott) is enough older than we are that he remembers Halley's comet. It looked like a whiskbroom, he says."
"The difficulty that accompanies you is less like the dark than a trusted lantern to see your way by." That says it. When I catch myself sitting back and having an easy time of it I know the only thing to do is throw it in the wastebasket and start over.". William Maxwell (The quote on difficulty and writing is by Eudora Welty)
March 17, 2012
Wonderful, best book I’ve read in years! Although I had read a few of Welty's novels and short stories in the past, the exchanges between her and Mr. Maxwell are admirable as a separate genre from their other writings; I enjoyed reading them strictly as letters, witty interchanges, informative and so skillfully written.
I loved their unexpected discussions about acquiring roses and keeping them alive, and tracking down rare species through an elusive Irish grower.
Many nice photos were helpful inclusions. Realizing they were writing to each other less and less, later in life, was sad but understandable. However, I kept wondering if the editor had withheld any, in that time frame. Suzanne Marrs' intro and commentaries were quite well done.
Emails aside, after absorbing these, how can we persuade ourselves to write "real" letters again, to anyone? The standard has been set, quite a challenge.
I loved their unexpected discussions about acquiring roses and keeping them alive, and tracking down rare species through an elusive Irish grower.
Many nice photos were helpful inclusions. Realizing they were writing to each other less and less, later in life, was sad but understandable. However, I kept wondering if the editor had withheld any, in that time frame. Suzanne Marrs' intro and commentaries were quite well done.
Emails aside, after absorbing these, how can we persuade ourselves to write "real" letters again, to anyone? The standard has been set, quite a challenge.
June 14, 2012
I'm really not sure how to rate this one... First off, I had tried to read the collection of her short stories a few months ago and could go no further, they were very blah and I did not want to wade through 700 pages. So I wasn't really looking forward to reading this book as part of Books on the Nightstand's Oxford retreat. And to be honest, I just can't get why this author would spend so much of her life writing Eudora Welty's biography, collecting and editing these letters, and otherwise studying Eudora's life. I mean I still can't, but the letters back and forth between her editor and friend were much more entertaining than Eudora's short stories. But only so much... definitely 500 pages worth.
August 8, 2011
I love love love everything by Eudora Welty, so I was excited to read this collections of letters between Welty & William Maxwell, who was a writer & editor for The New Yorker. The letters cover a close friendship between Welty, Maxwell, his wife & other family members for over 40 years. The letters are an absolute delight to read. It makes me sad to realize that because of emailing, we probably won"t have such wonderful collections saved for anyone to read in the future. I read this book one evening & all of the next day to the finish. I enjoyed it so much.
November 19, 2013
Well, my dears, this is my favorite book I've read all year. Welty and Maxwell were phenomenal writers and shared such love of books and flowers and travel and good writing and many other things that make life pleasant and worthwhile. It was a pleasure to have a look into their lives and to see the last century partly through their eyes. It was a look at a time that I fear has passed for literary types. It was a wonderful meditation on friendship and on what we, as people, can share. Reading it made me want to spend my time more wisely and to be a better person. What a joy.
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July 25, 2015I am loving this book so far. Two smart, generous people's letters. Full of humor.
Highly recommended for writers and editors, especially.
Highly recommended for writers and editors, especially.
October 1, 2011
I don't do well with books of letters, but I made it about halfway in. Inspiring and charming, but really, there's only so much discussion of rose cuttings I can handle.
August 29, 2011
I truly love this amazing book. I loved reading these letters and learning so much about these two incredible writers.
November 17, 2011
A lovely book to read leisurely, if you are a fan of either. For me, it's Maxwell, one of my all-time favorite writers.
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March 26, 2014Read cover to cover. Moving, quotidian picture of Welty's friendship with her New Yorker editor and fellow writer Maxwell and his wife Emmy.
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