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pal-zeik-03 4/14/08 2:56 PM Page 138

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I haven’t been able to contact the Huxleys and Gerald quick enough before writing this. But I am sure you can convey their greetings to the conference, with Swami Prabhavananda’s and mine. I really don’t know what message to send—as I combine the utmost goodwill with the wish that all Indians would speak Hindustani, Bengali, Urdu, etc, and stop murdering the English language. I always tell Swami that this was India’s revenge on British imperialism.

No time to write more. Am just finishing a screenplay. Then I hope for a long holiday and work of my own.

All my love,

Christopher

* * *

137 Entrada Drive

March 26. [1946]

Santa Monica. Calif.

My dearest Morgan,

My reasons for writing to you have been accumulating steadily, these last few days. A letter from John Lehmann saying that you were selling West Hackhurst and perhaps going to live at King’s, then a copy of your lecture on inter-war prose, a photograph in an old book, the Passage to India left in the apartment by a weekend visitor and reread—also, more indirectly, a deep deathlike sleep last night after three days of beach-picnics, gin, chatter, empty grinning and too-loud laughter—a glance at Mencius in some anthology over early coffee—most of all, perhaps, a letter from Heinz, written last August 26, form [ sic] a prisoner of war camp in France. “Dear Mr Isherwood, you’ll be astonished to hear from somebody whom you think will be already dead. After I had a bad time in Germany as you may know, I had to become a soldier and was caught than at the Reihn-River.

Who knows what my life will look like after I get discharged. Yours affectionately . . . ” I have written, of course—to one of those addresses which are all numbers and capital letters—but he must have been sent back to Germany long ago, and I don’t suppose they will forward P.O.W. mail. So there’s nothing to be done till he writes again. “Dear Mr Isherwood”! What do you make of that? Does he think I’m ashamed of knowing him, that I’ll be embarrassed, or something?

You have never written since you got back from India. I think I understand why. There is probably too much to say. Well, you shall say it, I hope, before very long. I plan to come back this summer, in July or August. When I think of England, it all really adds up to my mother and you.

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I wonder if you have read my novelette, Prater Violet. They liked it here, chiefly, I think, because it doesn’t pretend to be a masterpiece, in this land of canyons, skyscrapers and epics. You will see all its weaknesses and forgive them. They are weaknesses in myself. Yes, it is quite clever, quite amusing, nearly plausible—and one then reads something like your lecture. People say you are a great writer, and I think you are, whatever that means—but it’s not the point. The point is that you are incapable of telling a lie. Oh, there’s so much I want to talk to you about—Hinduism, God, sex, (why a little S? The typewriter chose it), your prostate operation (I just had a minor one), India, America, England, War, Peace. I would love to see you and Swami together—the two pillars of wisdom. They can keep the other five for a public building.

But I can’t write you a proper letter, Morgan dear. I can only make noises indicating love—another small letter, but it has stayed with me when so much else has been left behind in strange houses or scattered on the road in the haste of retreat.

As always,

Christopher

* * *

1-4-46

West Hackhurst,

Abinger Hammer,

Dorking

Dearest Christopher,

I have just received your letter of March 26th. I am very much excited about Heinz, as will Bob be, whom I shall see tomorrow. I do not fear Dear Mr Isherwood at all. It is very natural after years of oddness, also he has been through much more than you, and is bound to be strange in himself for a time. It is grand too that you will be in England this summer, and we will talk, amongst other things, of when I shall come to America.

My Indian visit probably saved my mind. I returned to more worry and sadness, for I have been given notice to leave this house—it is not mine to sell. However, I expect to get through. My mother’s death has been much more awful than I expected. I am glad that no one will miss me like that. In India I found food, warmth, “fame,” affection, and space—the mere travelling about was exquisite. I can’t tell you how happy I was. I kept telling myself—e.g. in the mosque at Delhi, the Fort at Bikaner, the Fort at Agra, the Caves at Ajanta, and from the train during Diwali passing Sassaram. (How many of these words does Swami remember?) I lectured, broadcasted, talked pal-zeik-03 4/14/08 2:56 PM Page 140

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literary—you are well known to Indians, but for Gita and Goodbye to Berlin only. I will try to get two broadcasts (done over here) out of Joe Ackerley for you. It is a nuisance that I haven’t been able to settle down here on my return, and think, I like to think when I want to think, and I rather think I wanted to think.

King’s [College Cambridge] has worked out fortunately. Two small rooms out of college and one very large one in, all unfurnished. So I shall be able to bring along quite a lot of stuff. I don’t go till the autumn, so you will probably see this house again. Last time you arrived very late, and the cold duck was overdone. There is also the flat at Chiswick still. I could put you up there if needful. My goodness the weather has been lovely this week. Such a nice boat race—the 16th anniversary of Bob and my first meeting. He rowed in a fascinating centipede called The Head of the River, the sort of race which you don’t know whether you’ve won until for some time afterwards.

I must leave room for one or two points which you relegate as minor.

What is this operation which you mention? Prater Violet I have never read.

Could you send me a copy? What is this present address of yours? I don’t think I’ve had it before.

Bill Roehrick is very faithful, very generous. I have fed the whole of Abinger Manner School with his maple sugar. I wonder how you will find the food over here. I don’t think it is any worse than it was 6 months ago, but people are not looking as well as they did—I noticed it on my return.

Morgan’s Love

* * *

14 Jan 1947

[sent from Hollywood, CA]

STAYING WIT LEHMANN BUT LONGING TO SEE YOU 22ND OR

23RD IF POSSIBLE ALL MY LOVE CHRISTOPHER ISHERWOOD

* * *

K[ings] C[ollege] C[ambridge] 21-3-47

Dearest Christopher,

I ought to have written. I am never ill but sometimes becalmed. I like the Don Quixote and have been reading in it.

Thank you for your Bill’s address. The Bill I can scarcely call mine is being so helpful, and I think a programme may evolve that won’t inconvenience his pal-zeik-03 4/14/08 2:56 PM Page 141

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plans. A little New York, with Red Carpet for you, then Tyringham,5 then I go to Harvard, then Arizona, perhaps, with him, for he has to go sometime in May to Hollywood. I shall return to New York. I shall go home, which means Bob and his family for me now, as you saw.

When do you come back to London? Can I not see you before I fly on the 14th?

Also can I give you a cheque for £50? Curtis Brown have just snubbed me for making what I thought a quite legal and indeed honourable offer.

The £50 will be, you understand, payment for a copy of Don Quixote, illustrated by Gustave Doré, which you sold to me.6