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#0981: Willa Cather to Elizabeth Shepley Sergeant, October 2 [1929]

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⬩W⬩S⬩C⬩ My Dear Elsie1;

I do find it a splendid and most exciting book3! Surely this is the way to do the story of a strain of blood—not the Orlando4 way. The awfulness of a family is that it is not one being undergoing vicissitudes, but a succession of beings, swift into the world and out again; even under the delusion that he is a comp complete creature and a free agent, when he is neither,—when he is but a momentary aspect of something that is wholly indifferent to him. The title is exactly right for it. The book has a nice balance; the tone is cheerful and the facts are grim. By “cheerful” I mean—well, the mood in which life has to be carried on if it is carried on at all. I do avow that this book makes me feel that it had better not be carried on. It wouldn’t be, perhaps, except for the fact that before the age of forty forty it is physically and impossible for most of us to believe in either death or defeat. We hear “forever, forever” ringing in our ears, but it does not mean what it means in your book—far from it. This leads me to the only thing I don’t like, which is the introduction of the writer and New York5. It serves a purpose, and it’s interesting from point of composition. But for me, the more I can forget that a book is a kind of “writing” and done by a writer, the better. I think La Prisonnière6" suffers greatly from the fact that there for the first time Proust7 begins to speak of himself as a writer instead of remaining merely an eye and an ear (mostly and ear!) and grandmother’s spoiled baby. I know painters put themselves in their pictures, but that’s different. Some day I’d like to thrash this out with you. But that’s a very small point, and the book itself is a great delight. I feel so happy and satisfied for you. You’ve got into the pages somehow the terrible way that life rus rushes on, and how no plans count for anything and no person counts for anything. The title rings in one’s mind afterward like a tune one would like to be rid of.

Congratulations, from my head and my heart! Willa ⬩W⬩S⬩C⬩ P. S.

Oh, I’ve never thanked you for the long letter you wrote me from California8, which did me a world of good and brought that country all back to me again. I’ve thought a little of going to live in San Francisco9 - - - but I’m a little afraid. I hope you saw the Porters10, I liked them so much. I want to talk about California with you. I’ll go down to New York in a few weeks.

Hastily W. P. P. S.

Perhaps I wish the Expositor in your story (I realize there had to be one) were a sober and studious person person engaged in digging out family history - - - and somewhat staggered by what she found. Your choice is more modern, but I think the other would have certain merits of its own.