Letters of William Gaddis. William Gaddis

I really care about—I mean really like and want to get the most of out. The psyc is good but getting tough—we’re getting into physics which I hadn’t expected but it is still interesting. The French is of course still all right, and am trying to get a good basic knowledge of it; the exam is tomorrow. Sometimes I get disgusted with it but something always comes—this time it was the French film of Crime and Punishment that we saw down in Boston—to make me realize what a beautiful language it is and what fun it would be to know it well and all of the gates that would be open to one who did understand it.

      English A is still as inane as ever—I write the themes, work on them, but that’s all—I didn’t take the inconsequential hour exam in it; you see that was one good reason I went up to Stillman. It wasn’t a stomach ache, but ‘uncontrollable nausea,’ which finally came up to get me after celebrating that game we won last Saturday (Princeton) and then studying hard for the hour exams during the week. I was just upset that day but got right over it and now am back at it again.

      I’m beginning to wish I had been able to squeeze Philosophy A in somewhere this year. I was over in John’s room late last nite and we ‘got into it,’ and it was really fun. Have been reading Nietzsche and Schopenhauer and got a book of Kant’s out of the library today. Incidentally, we have the most wonderful house library in Eliot: all kinds of books, but an accent on classics and such, and big leather covered chairs etc. Gee it’s all really wonderful.

      Glad to hear about that $5 for that coat; everything here seems to come in 5’s; for the radio which I just got out of ‘hock’ 5 for the student council, 5 for our venetian blinds, which is about all our rooms has, aside from the $4 couch!

      Yale next week! Boy it’s going to be something; John is taking some woman from locally here, a swell girl a bit on the ‘debby’ side, you know, that way of talking etc., but nice; we went over and had tea at their home about a week and a half ago. And my amazing Puritan room mate with a girl coming from Cleveland; he never fails to amaze me with something new like this!

      And how the time passes; it seems like November just started, and here it is almost half done, and I owe a theme for December in one course already! It is snowing just a little today, and I saw the handsomest Christmas cards down at the Coop with pictures of the Eliot House gate in colour; gee it’s all as good as it ever could be, except for one detail, spelled A-r-t-h-u-r-M-u-r-r-a-y. Ware and I were hashing it over this afternoon, and I guess I’ll have to do something one of these days.

      Love,

      Bill

      A-r-t-h-u-r-M-u-r-r-a-y: name of the founder of a dance-studio chain.

      To Edith Gaddis

      Cambridge, Massachusetts

      [27 November 1942]

      Dear Mom—

      Well—here we are—another envelop of bills—see how they come.

      Neil and I stayed in town Sunday night—saw Native Son—liked it a great deal; finally got a bus up after the show—but it was worth it. Gee, he is some guy, isn’t he?! It was some mess but worked out fine I guess.

      Last evening Camilla Sewell (the girl whom John had down to the Yale game) had a lovely and very formal tea dance—you know, butlers in tails etc.—but nice!

      Tonight same bunch—I say bunch—of opera players are doing Carmen down in Boston—we may go down, I don’t know. I can’t figure whether it would be better to see it done poorly than not at all—we’ll see—

      Have some psyc. to catch up on—

      Love

      Bill

      Native Son: Richard Wright’s 1940 novel was adapted for the stage the following year.

      To Edith Gaddis

      Cambridge, Massachusetts

      [3 December 1942]

      Dear Mom—

      Just a note—have to study for exam tomorrow—in English A.—And so angry now am about to fly—my section man recommended a book to me he said was an exposition of the theory of history’s repeating itself etc.—I got it and turns out to be history of Communism and Socialism—Marxism—enough to make me actively ill—so don’t care about mark in this test but am going to tell him what I think of his lousy piggish socialism &c—sometimes I think he’s turned that way—he recommends many such books—so I’m going to tell him how stinking I think it is and not worry about an E.

      Have got Christmas cards—50—do you know where that plate I had for engraving is? It must be perhaps in my desk or somewhere—I’d like to have them done and mailed from here if possible—would appreciate it if you should run across it to send it up.—

      Can hardly wait for Christmas—it will probably be the last “home from college” Christmas and I hope it will turn out well. We’re having a house formal here Saturday night but think I will abstain—the Christmas recess is more important. Quite a few of the fellows are going to be in town and will probably see them then and be in New York a good part of the time—

      Well it isn’t long now—

      Must get back to work—

      Love

      Bill

      P.S.—Have gotten a couple of W. Saroyan’s books—wonderful—but G Stein is still a little beyond!

      E: Harvard’s failing grade.

      W. Saroyan: William Saroyan (1908–81), American short-story writer, novelist, and playwright, at the peak of his fame in 1942.

      G Stein: Gertrude Stein (1874–1946), American writer and art patron.

      To Edith Gaddis

      Eliot House

      11 January [1943]

      Dear Mom—

      Everything is fine and thanks for the check.

      The work has been rather lax recently but only because the finals are coming up—@!!/* brother—then we get it! My first exam is next Monday—English I—my last one Monday the 25^th in psychology. I think I shall be home Monday (25^th) evening—OK? And say, how do you think the $ situation will be about then—I’d like to try to erase that mess I made of Christmas week if it’s possible and try to see some shows—plan ahead I mean and work it out like you have always said—[...]

      Charles Gardiner is going to be in town over the weekend too, and wants me to see a show or two with him—more complications. He is just 18 but mature—well read etc.—good mind etc.—remembers Dead End—Winterset etc. Quite a guy.

      Got a card from Francis this AM—he’s gone for good I guess—I am to send his last box out to him—‘end of an era!—’

      Say, I hear you’re having gasoline trouble!! How are you coming out with the coupons? I suppose we did unnecessary driving, but I think it came out the same as if I hadn’t come home at all—and hadn’t got the 4 ‘A’ trickets from Granga.

      We have been living quite a life this past week but now everyone is going into seclusion for midyear preparation—me too—it now being 1 AM and am starting