Philip Larkin
Page 21
Yesterday was a beautiful day, wasn’t it? I sat in Leicester’s Victoria Park for a while, read a book on Yeats and watched the people playing hockey. The town gets very busy on a Saturday. […]
Perhaps next weekend I shall be glad of a visit home. This oscillation of mine is keeping Kitty away! Why she wants to come I don’t know: why have a home if you don’t stay in it? It seems to point to a radical breakdown somewhere. Now I really do want things like clothes, etc., and come to fetch them …
Much love to both,
Philip
1 Eva comments in a letter of 30 September: ‘Oh! the dear dear Creature in it’s old age! It is a clever little sketch but not at all cheering. How fat and bent the poor thing looks. The drain adds the final touch of degradation. But I don’t believe it. I feel sure my Creature will never be like that.’
2 The first novel by Francis King (1923–2011), published in 1946.
3 Charles Madge (1912–96), poet and sociologist.
27 October 1946
As from 172, London Road, Leicester
My dear Mop & Pop,
You will probably notice from the postmark that I am paying a visit to Ruth in Norwood. As usual words cannot describe the weather: cold, wet, & a thick blanket of mist. I thought it seemed very cold in the night, & I found on drawing the curtains this morning that my window was open. Brrr …
I am happy to say at last that Jill arrived yesterday & when walking up Charing Cross Rd I saw it in Schwemmer’s window. I will post a copy to you tomorrow and you should get it on Tuesday. It is really quite nicely produced, if your standards are not very high: several misprints & the pages crowded with print. It costs 9/6. This seems sufficient guarantee that nobody will buy it.1
I have said a lot about it in the past and I will not weary you with further excuses except to say that do remember it is a very “first” attempt, “young” in conception & treatment, with numerous faults, and concerning matters in which you will probably find it difficult if not impossible to interest yourself – and you will be right!
Yes. I have bought a mushroom from Woolworth’s – a multi-coloured speckled one of which the top screws off. So far I haven’t used it.
Ruth & I went to see Henry V again yesterday.2 I often wonder what Pop thought of the verse speaking in that film, assuming he saw it. To me it seemed very remarkable. I enquired at one or two shops for books by Ll. Powys, but none were forthcoming. After glancing at some prices of 2nd hand books I thought it was probably just as well. (By the way I have ordered Elwin’s book too.3)
Bruce wrote to me “commanding” board & lodging from the Grand Hotel, so I rang them up & secured a room (no mean feat this). He arrives on Friday, Nov. 1st till Tuesday. I am dreading it financially. When Bruce visits me it seems to cost as much as my visiting any one else. He has just finished another novel called Swan Song. This is I think a good title, as it concerns a murder during Lohengrin. Another for Marshall!
The King & Queen are coming to Leicester on Wednesday, but I shall have no chance of seeing them. All the streets are decorated with flags and there is scaffolding rigged up all over the L.M.S station. I hear that the King broke the golden key in New Bodley door when opening it last week – someone had to shin up & get in a window & let them in from inside. What a paltry business this ceremony racket is!
With much love to both creatures. How is your spider?
Philip
1 On 28 October Sydney asked Philip to acquire ‘half a dozen copies, or less … if possible on author’s terms’, and corrected his son’s recollection: ‘The window you saw Jill in would be Zwemmer’s, I think, not Schwemmer’s, as you say. I must see Collier [local bookshop] has it and, if you agree I would get it reviewed in [a] Coventry paper.’ In a letter in the same envelope Eva wrote: ‘How very happy we were this morning to read that Jill has at last arrived. When I read that you had actually seen it reposing in a bookseller’s window, I tried to imagine what your feelings would be. I should, in such a happy situation, have felt that I was walking on air and thought that the whole company of birds in the world were making sweet music in my ears.’ She followed up on 4 November: ‘Well, I have read “Jill”. I like it very much indeed. I think it is beautifully written and some parts are deliciously fresh and pleasing, “All at once it seemed very cold. The stars marched frostily across the sky.” The bow-tie episode is very good, also the part where Jill takes shape in his mind. I felt very sad over the many times she eluded John, and wished so much for a happy end to all his worries.’
2 The 1944 film adaptation of Shakespeare’s play, starring and directed by Laurence Olivier, with music by William Walton.
3 Sydney must have recommended a book by Verrier Elwin (1902–64), English-born Indian anthropologist and tribal activist.
11 November 1946
172, London Road, Leicester
My dear Mop & Pop,
I do apologise for not writing more than a note yesterday. I carried paper & envelope around with me but what with going from place to place to see different people I never had a chance to settle down. I was only there 26 hrs, of which about 3½ were spent in sleep.
I am enclosing this with A Girl in Winter, proof copy. It shd form a contrast to Jill, being a very different sort of book. In Jill everything is clearly stated and comprehended: this deals with less explicit feelings & so I have tried to represent them by indirect reference & allegoric incident. I wonder if you will find it dull. All my friends do except Ruth.
I have 6 Jills which I will bring when I come on Saturday. They are bound in two shades of green, some light, some dark, and rather more ruthlessly guillotined, less nice on the whole than the blue variety.
You will be interested to hear that the College are attempting to speed inflation by giving everyone a £100 cost of living bonus. This has yet to pass the Grants Committee, and I imagine that it will be cut to £50 or £25 in the process.
Don’t buy Back.1 It is a rotten book. If I’d read the T.L.S on Sat. I shouldn’t have.
I shall really have to settle the question of NALGO when I come: they wrote me a letter asking for money, though what for I don’t gather. Also, can you hunt out my Savings Cert. number? I have to have it if I buy any more, I find.
Much love – see you Saturday,
Philip
1 By Henry Green. Shortly after this Philip gave his father his copy, for which Sydney thanked him on 28 November.
1947
12 January 1947
172, London Road, Leicester
My dear Mop and Pop,
– But principally, this time, to Mop, in answer to her very kind letter & to make up for the letter I didn’t send on the 10th. The creature knew it ought to have written! but it was mithered and worried and so sent a poem instead (yes, the verse was by me).1
I am so sorry you have not been well – is all better now? I don’t like to think of you being ill. […]
Last night when I was going to sleep I remembered something I do periodically remember from my earliest childhood – a picture book about some Robber Rats who surprise an old-woman rat on the way to market and make her spill her basketful of round red Dutch cheeses. Do you recall this book at all? I always felt there was something sinister about those rats.
On Friday I saw Great Expectations,2 but as I had no great exptns. was not disappointed when it proved to be a mediocre film. It does start well, but gets rather ordinary later on.
Do you remember my application at Southampton? Well, Peter Roe, one of the young men here, asked his sister (who was the person vacating the job) why they had not appointed me. The reason apparently was that they thought I should not keep the juniors in order! Perspicacious but annoying. She reported, however, that Miss Henderson, the Librarian, passed round my application, saying she had never seen one so well-written before. And since we are on the subject of trumpet-blowing, Bruce reports as he sends me a copy of the American Toyshop that the East Hampton Star says “But in the entire 250 pages …
it is those few he devotes to the writing of poetry that are really an achievement … Fine, inspiring, understanding stuff. I suspect Mr. Crispin is a poet at heart.” Now as you know I was largely responsible for that bit, so that makes me laugh.
You will be pleased to know that as from Aug. 1946 my salary has been £450 p.a. – back pay will be forthcoming and the new scale starts this month. Aren’t I a rich creature!
Finally, are you responsible for the sudden reception by The Times Literary Supplement of The North Ship? As it is approx. 16 months since it was published it seems rather late in the day.3 At any rate I had nothing to do with it! It gave me an awful turn, next to Landor and all. Well, since they have it, Bruce’s girl on The Times shd wangle a review for it, but I expect she has quite forgotten.
Is it any use my sending to Pop the Leicester Public Library copy of J. C. Powys’ Autobiography? It is over 600 pages long but very easy to read. He is a sort of Honey-Campion type, only even more extraordinary. Let me know.
My dearest love to both,
Philip
1 The verse that Philip sent to Eva for her birthday cannot be identified.
2 The 1946 film, based on Dickens’s novel, directed by David Lean and starring John Mills, Bernard Miles, Finlay Currie, Jean Simmons, Martita Hunt, Alec Guinness and Valerie Hobson.
3 Eva’s reply of 13 January is prefaced with two lines by Mary Webb: ‘Into the scented woods we’ll go / And see the blackthorn swim in snow.’ She writes: ‘Last night, after a large dose of Mary Webb’s poetry, I took up your North Ship being curious to see what I should think of it after reading hers. I was, as a matter of fact, quite startled to find how good and fine some of your poems are. Yes, I really do think you are a poet – first and foremost.’
16 February 1947
172, London Road, Leicester
My dear Mop & Pop,
My letters will have rather a piebald appearance until I use up all my varying kinds of paper. I hope you don’t mind.
[…] I expect you noticed the advance notices of Winter in the T.L.S. and again this morning in the S.T. I have at last regained the proofs from the English dept. here and dislike the look of it. Miss Jones said it reminded her of Eliz. Bowen’s Death of the heart1 which I am in consequence reading. Dr Collins2 said it was “gloomy” – plague take the fool!
I’m enclosing the birth cert. which was accepted without comment.
There is really not much to say, having said all this: I find it easy enough to keep existing but I fail to do anything original off my own bat: my correspondence course has suffered. I am sure we are only half alive in this weather: it’ll be interesting to see if anybody comments on the apt conditions when Winter appears. As a matter of fact I think it shows up my descriptions as rather badly done. The reality, for a change, is more effective than the imagination.
Best love to both –
Philip
We have more oranges!
1 Elizabeth Bowen (1899–1973), The Death of the Heart was published in 1938.
2 Arthur Collins was appointed the first lecturer in English at Leicester University College (founded 1921) in 1929. Monica Jones, who was to become Larkin’s lifelong lover, arrived as the second lecturer in 1943.
23 February 1947
172, London Road, Leicester
My dear Mop and Pop,
Well, here is another Sunday and the snow still here, looking brilliant in the half-sun. Do you know, it was quite warm yesterday? The streets were full of slush. But I think last night brought the old familiar frost again.
I am pleased to enclose this letter in a copy of the book. It arrived on Friday after going to Wellington first (my fault, that): I have since found it in the shops. So far as I can see there are no misprints in it – but there is one thing that mightily annoys me: an intentional mistake in grammar, that I saw safely through the proofs, has been corrected. It occurred in one of Anstey’s speeches and was no little addition to the general humour thereof.1 I am trying to get another 2 dozen copies of which you wd doubtless like a dozen. You will tell me, won’t you, if you see any reviews.
I was amused by the account of Pop’s speech: Colin Gunner came over on Friday and said you had been “blowing off your mouth” in a manner which showed your mental faculties to be no way impaired by retirement.2 So I looked forward to seeing the high spots.3
Thanks too to Mop for her letter. I bought two pairs of socks yesterday – a typical “silly” purchase, for although they are delightful colours, 12" foot, long legs, they are pure wool and therefore, Miss Sutcliffe tells me, will wear through in no time. She advises me to strengthen the heels & toes by preliminary darning: do you advise this?4
I do not know that I have much news: I went to the pictures in order to see The private life of Henry VIII, and Charles Laughton was as good as a tonic.5 The scene where he eats and dismembers the capon made me roll about in my seat with laughter.
(Now the beastly power has suddenly gone off, at 11.15 a.m. What a country we do live in.)
I may go to London next weekend: the Slade are holding an exhibition somewhere in Bond St. and Jim wants to show me round.
The College is just barely warm enough. We shiver around in many cardigans, jumpers, &c, and in the library at any rate the students cling to the radiators like limpets. But on the whole I stay just warm enough.
Well, all is over now bar the shouting, & I shall have to bend my attention towards the future when I have time. One thing: it will be very easy to write a better book than A girl in winter. Don’t they say some nice things about me, though?
Your affectionate offspring –
Philip
1 This hypercorrection still irritated Larkin when the paperback reprint of the novel appeared in 1974. In a letter to Charles Monteith of Faber & Faber (16 April 1974) he asked for the word ‘with’ to be reinstated in a sentence ending ‘you would have to deal with’, spoken by Anstey. The word was, he writes, ‘cut out by your super-efficient editors in 1946’. He had intended it as ‘a deliberate grammatical mistake […] to show the muddle-headedness of the speaker’; ‘it has irked me for over a quarter of a century’. Selected Letters, 503–4.
2 Sydney Larkin realised his ambition to retire early, in April 1944, at the age of sixty.
3 Sydney had been invited to propose the toast to ‘The City of Coventry’ at a dinner to celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Coventry Rotary Club. On 17 February Eva wrote: ‘He has now the chance to tell the City the truth!’ On 24 February she reported: ‘Of course, Daddy created much laughter and interest by his speech which went down very well.’
4 In her letter of 24 February Eva wrote: ‘I am interested to hear about your new socks. I have not known woollen socks to wear out rapidly, but then the wool which is used now-adays is not nearly as good as the pre-war variety. I should certainly darn the heels and toes before wearing, to strengthen them. What a capable creature you are becoming!’
5 A 1933 film directed and co-produced by Alexander Korda, starring Charles Laughton, Robert Donat, Merle Oberon and Elsa Lanchester.
2 March 1947
Royal Hotel, Woburn Place, Russell Square, London
My dear Mop & Pop,
Well! You can imagine how I am licking my fur this morning after reading what Michael Sadleir has to say about Winter!1 You will have to be very respectful to me in future, –
Seriously, I didn’t think anyone wd like it as much as that. I shall never disparage Fanny by Gaslight again.2
I was very pleased to get such a nice long letter from you last Wednesday. How good & kind of you to spend so much time writing to me. Concerning Winter, which occupies my thoughts mainly at present, I had not noticed the misprints (I never do) but they annoy me. The jacket is inoffensive to me at any rate. I have BEEN PAID for it – £27 – so can at last count myself at least a semi-professional author. The 2 doz. copies have not arrived yet, but I’ll dispatch a dozen when they do.
Nellie. /
This hotel is “not quite our class”. Though not annoyingly so. It seems mainly populated by football teams & (seemingly) a circus – at least when I came in last night there was a gentle giant in the foyer, at least 8 ft high. I blenched horribly & scuttled to my room, which is one cell in an endless corridor of cells.
I spent some time with Jim at the Slade exhibition. He is as taciturn as ever, and is living what really constitutes a bohemian life – cooking his own meals, spending his offdays at the National Gallery, & drawing in the evenings. The rest of the time has been spent with Ruth3 & one of her friends, to whom I have promised (overgenerously, perhaps) free Winters. The weather has been really beautiful, sunny & springlike in the day, and we watched people feeding the pigeons in Trafalgar Square. The people hold their arms out with seed in the palms of their hands, & the pigeons perch on their arms & wrists to peck it up.
Tell Pop I have bought both of the Charles Williams reprints, so if he had felt inclined to do so he need not.
I continue taking the adexolin but it does not seem to dissipate my mild everpresent catarrh, nor prevent my rare, abstract sneezes – I call them abstract sneezes because they don’t seem to be accompanied by a cold.
This fuel cut certainly seems to have come to stay, at least for the domestic consumer, such as we be, unluckily for us. I must say I don’t suffer greatly – they do keep the college relatively warm – but it is such a nuisance to have no light in the shops. Don’t you find it so?
Now I must fold this & post it. My very best love to both creatures from a long,4 cold, but none the less cheerful creature. –
Philip
1 For their reactions to the Sunday Times review of A Girl in Winter, see Sydney’s note of 2 March and Eva’s letter of 3 March 1947, Appendix.