(the) American (Novel of)

84 Alison Leigh Brown
reflected unwillingness on my part to address the issue of marriage as
a backdrop to those contrite texts. What I had remarked was that I was
tired of doing literature in general. That I was bored with a sort of hot
obsession with property assignations in the period I’ve chosen for my
concentration. So your comments on Austen and “her” Edmund and
Fanny mystify me and fail to delight me. I have nothing to say on those
matters. I do wish that you would try to remember what we have
talked about. It is quite annihilating to be chided for comments I have
not made. Enough of that. (And darling, I miss you too. It is unbearable
to me that you are there at Mall and here am I at Mississippi. Did we
ever imagine in graduate school that we would not be able to continue
our morning coffees and evening cocktails? It is astonishing to me that
I can work at all without your constant stimulation. Astonishing too the
funny ways you need to categorize things. Let’s stop talking: “Don’t talk
of love, show me” and so forth. Your romance thing is just getting old,
dearest one. I have never encouraged this and I am beginning to feel
a trifle stalked.)
Moving on to other points in your not so scintillating letter. My
letter was not so much about Spinoza as it was about a whole host of
other writers on whom I was working at the time of that letter. 8 Still,
I do remember referencing him, however tangentially. I know, however,
your great fondness for him and know that if I mention him, I risk
your going on and on about Spinoza this and Spinoza that, so the risk
is mine and the pleasure is, as usual, all yours.
But before responding to your pedantry let me dive in first to the
gossip and the more personal comments you make. First, my little
cabbage, I have gossip of my own. You left a message on my machine
a few days ago informing me that Ryan had received tenure and that
I should send flowers or something. You are uncivil in some respects,
ma chère. Marianne. Professor Post. Of course I had already sent a
tenure gift to Ryan. But being the busy little thing that I am, I would
like to tell you the gossip to which I refer in the antepenultimate
sentence from this one. Corey is Ryan’s new boyfriend. He is lovely to
look at and amazingly smart. I want to marry him. (Just joking! You
deserve this for your comments on Austinian matrimony.) This is gossip
in the true sense. Because all our gossip is practical in nature and
because we are the best team, I beg your assistance in following out the
natural trajectory of this delightful set of stories. (You know about