Viewing page 22 of 37

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

Insert 13-22

caricature of the flapper's boy friend, as was the complete lack of humor--even animation--in his face. (I soon learned that he had just separated from his wife.) He had with him a new issue of the magazine transition [[note]] insert from P 26 [[/note]] on which he was associate editor. I had seen earlier issues in New York, and Geoff and I had argued about the magazine [[strikethrough]]'s break with realism [[/strikethrough]], its excursions into surrealism (a wonderful word) and its acceptance of [[right margin]] ? [[/right margin]]
Freud (and Jung) as springboards to a new kind of writing. Geoff was nine years older than I, enough for him to have taken part in the struggle for the acceptance of realism; now it was accepted as the traditionalism in all except the most provincial of English departments in the universities. In Paris, I wondered more and more how he could have wanted to send me to Brill, who was more or less in the camp of the enemy; to make it worse, Brill was a Freudian, not a Jungian. I'm sure Geoff had no deep analysis in mind for me; perhaps only a few talks together which, Geoff may have assumed, would end with Brill sending me with his blessing to the altar with Geoff. 

A month later I came to a new conclusion about Geoff. He sent me a draft of an editorial he had written for his magazine and asked for my comment. It was about the pitfalls awaiting the girl who drinks of free love at the collage pump (very Menckenian) when she transfers such half-baked ideas to the rational world of the city. 

I felt debased. My first impulse was to throw Geoff's check for the $50. hat into the Seine; instead, I walked for many hours along the Seine and over the bridges, and gradually it became clear to me that Geoff's