THE EPISODE: A MAJOR PICTIONxIL DEVICE USEI3 BY THOMAS WOLFE

by IVA PARR POSTER, B.S. in Ed.

A THESIS IN ENGLISH

Submitted to the Graduate Faculty of Texas Tech University in Partial J\Alfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of MASTER OP ARTS

Approved

August, 1970 ICI7P

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

I am deeply indebted to Dr. J. T. McCullen for his competent and patient guidance throughout the preparation of this thesis.

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rv TABLE OP CONTENTS

Page ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ii I. INTRODUCTION 1 II. THE EPISODE AND CHARACTER DELINEATION 7 III. THE EPISODE AND THE SITUATION 21 IV. THE EPISODE AND THEME 37 V. THE EPISODE AND HUMOR 47 VI. CONCLUSION 56 NOTES 61 BIBLIOGRAPHY 67

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( CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

Much has been written about the degree of craftsman­ ship in Thomas Wolfe's writings. "Craftsmanship" is used here because even Bernard De Voto has admitted that Wolfe had a tale to tell. It is the way in v/hich V/olfe related his story that has caused so much controversy. Certainly his approach v/as not in keeping v/ith the Hemingway mode of his day. Those who oppose Wolfe's writing technique often do so on the basis of the trends of the 1920's and 1930's. Thus, his rhetoric, repetitions, long sentences, poetic philosophy, and continuous analogies repel many critics. Mr. De Voto says of Wolfe: "The novelist makes his point in the lives of his characters, not in the tidal surges of rhetoric." Other critics find enough merit in Wolfe's style about which to write. Floyd C. Watkins writes about the Southern rhetoric of Wolfe as a part of Wolfe's poetic language. Richard Walser maintains that \mity is present in Wolfe's novels through thematic treat­ ment. Others write of V/olfe's humor, his first novel as a development (initiation) novel, and about his symbolic patterns. Assuming that V/olfe* s "genius" is already established, and that various elements of his style have been outlined by several critics, perhaps the student should look for the main strength in Wolfe's works. Richard V/alser views Y/olfe's style as distinctive: "... he did not write in terms of stories supplied with the expected pseudo-plots and conventional paraphernalia. He wished, rather, to fol­ low life with its seemingly patternless movements, and he did not push for ansv/ers v/ith v/hich experience had not 2 provided him." Critics refer repeatedly to V/olfe*s writings in terms of experience. To those who knew him best, his "seemingly pattern- less movements" of life are described as episodes. Maxwell Perkins wrote that it was "that wonderful night scene in the cafe where Ben was with the Doctors, and Horse Hines, the undertaker, came in"-^ v/hich really moved him to finish reading that first manuscript. Mr. Perkins explains that most of the editing of Look Homeward, Angel involved reor­ ganization rather than cutting. As an example, he recounts that Wolfe had used two similar episodes together and that they needed to be separated to achieve the full effect of each. Edv/ard Asv/ell, editor of Wolfe's last works, inti­ mates how important revision was to V/olfe in later years: "Par more often than not I found that there would be at least two different versions of the same episode, and sometimes there were as many as four or five versions." Aswell also felt that, since Wolfe's chronology was ordered mainly by his own experience, he was free to skip from one episode to another, rather than to v/rite straight through a work:

Yesterday he might have been working on some­ thing out of the Brooklyn period of his life, but if in the night his mind happened to go back thirty years to some remembered episode of his childhood, he v/ould get up today to work on that, and the Brooklyn material would be laid aside until he felt like returning to it. In this way he might cover within a month various unrelated events and characters v/idely scattered throughout the time cycle of his story. In this way, too, while v/riting the individual parts he was also working on the whole thing all the time.5 Prom the comments of V/alser, Perkins, and Asv/ell, one might conclude that Y/olfe's materials come almost directly from personal experience and that he wrote these experiences into episodes, which v/ere later organized into stories and novels. Wolfe constantly used the episode as a writing tool. It was through episodes that he achieved the real flavor of setting, the essence of character, and his various moods. These episodes he recognized as coming from his own experi­ ence. As he said of Look Homeward, Angel in The Story of a Novel: "I had written ray book, more or less, directly from the experience of my own life. ..." More specifi­ cally, he wrote in a letter to his mother about events which

>> I' I he remembered and planned to use. The following appeared in distinct pieces of his writings: I think of an old man in the grip of a terrible disease, who thought he was afraid to die, but who died like a warrior in an epic poem. . . . I think of a boy of twenty-six years heaving his life away, and gasping to regain it, I think of the frightened glare in his eyes and the way he seizes my hands, and cries "V/hat have you come home for.*' ... I think of the devotion of a woman of frail physique to a father. . . . I have tried to make myself conscious of the whole of my life since first the baby in the basket became conscious of the warm sunlight on the porch, and saw his sister go up the hill to the girl*s school on the corner (the first thing I remember).? Furthermore, The Story of a Novel, V/olfe's narrative about the writing of his second book, is also episodic. He did not use the word *'episode" to describe his approach; but, because his writing was always based on experience, he could not record the creation of his v/orks without relying upon the various incidents he realized. Not only is the episode important as Wolfe's means of conveying character, mood, setting, and theme, but it might also be used as the critic's means to observe the development of V/olfe's craftsmanship. A comparison of his first novel and his last one affords a contrast between his earlier and his later style of writing. In Look Homeward, Angel, several hundred episodes are used, mainly to portray characters and setting. Many of the episodes are so similar that a catalogue effect results. In You Can't Go Home Again, economy is practiced; consequently, approxi­ mately the same number of episodes is used to a greater effect. One example of this effectiveness is the v/ay George's encounter with McHarg relates to the fame theme. A study of the episode as V/olfe used it in Look Homeward, Angel, in You Can't Go Home Again, and in a few of his stories reveals that the episode is the real strength of his writings, and that the development of V/olfe's episodic technique reveals the development of his writing technique in general.

Since the episode is an important device in Y/olfe's writing style, a study of the way he used this device should offer enlightenment to the Wolfean student. Although some critics have mentioned the episode in relation to Wolfe's fiction, there has been no extensive study of his applica­ tion of it. One short article provides a study of Wolfe's humor through a look at various episodes in Look Homeward, o Angel. It is hoped that a similar study of additional works and additional components of fiction will prove satisfactory. The episode, as referred to in the following pages, may be defined informally as an incident within a novel or a story which is complete in itself. The elements to be treated are placed into the categories of (1) the episode and character delineation, (2) the episode and the situation, (3) the episode and theme, (4) the episode and humor. CPL'LPTER II THE EPISODE AND CHARACTER DELINEATION

One can hardly talk about Thomas Wolfe without some mention of autobiographic elements in his fiction. His first book. Look Homeward, Angel, is especially noted for Wolfe's early tendency to use his experience directly and with little disguise, as he suggests in The Story of a Novel: "But I also believe now that the young writer is often led through inexperience to a use of the materials of life which are, perhaps, somewhat too naked and direct for the purpose of a work of art. The thing a young writer is likely to do is to confuse the limits between actuality q and reality." Maxwell Perkins recalls for us his realiza­ tion that the characters of that first book are real: ... I suddenly saw that it was often almost literally autobiographical—that these people in it were his people. I am sure my face took on a look of alarm, and Tom saw it and he said, •But Mr. Perkins, you don't understand. I think these people are great people and that they should be told about.'^^ By the end of his career, however, Mr. V/olfe displays a more stylized mode in the presentation of his characters. As suggested in The Story of a Novel, he has learned to aim for the general quality and the traits of his characters. 8

Mr. Perkins provides an enlightening explanation of Wolfe's portrayal of a character: ... In You Can't CJo Home Again he shows the character Foxhall Edv/ards at breakfast. Ed­ wards's young daughter enters 'as swiftly and silently as a ray of light.' She is very shy and in a hurry to get to school. She tells of a theme she has written on V/alt V/hitman and what the teacher said of V/hitman. V/hen Edwards urges her not to hurry and makes various observations, she says, 'Oh, Daddy, you're so funny!' What Tom did was to make one unforgettable little character out of three daughters of Foxhall Edwards.'''' He got the ray of light many years ago v/hen he v/as with me in my house in New Canaan, Connecticut, and one daughter, at the age of about eight or ten, came in and met this gigantic stranger. After she was introduced she fluttered all about the room in her em­ barrassment, but radiant, like a sunbeam. Then Tom was present when another daughter, in Radcliffe, consulted me about a paper she was writing on Whitman, but he put this back into her school days. The third, of which he composed a single character, v/as the youngest, who often did say, partly perhaps, because she was not at ease when Tom was there, 'Oh, Daddy, you're so silly.' That is how Tom worked. He created something new and something meaningful through a transmutation of what he sav/, heard, and realized.''2 In either instance—the early literal figure, or the later assimilated personality—the Wolfean character is depicted forcefully within one or more episodes. The ges­ tures and phrases of each personality emanate from single incidents, as those of the young Edwards girl in the break­ fast scene. The characters in Look Homeward, Angel revolve around the young hero, Eugene, and are revealed through their personal interactions. The individual members of his family are perhaps the most striking characters, and they become even more poignant in relation to each other. The parents, Oliver and Eliza, represent tv/o distinct, and, often, two opposing individuals. Oliver Gant, often referred to as Old Gant, or simply Gant, offers a fine specimen of character delineation. Gant's love of plenty, his boisterous affection for his family, his quick temper coupled v/ith immediate remission, his fear of death, and his love for v/ords all reveal them­ selves through various scenes. The love of plenty, Wolfe reveals through Gant's habitual practices, as he describes what a table scene at Gant's would be like. There would be the time when Gant v/ould poke at the toddler Eugene's stomach and roar, "There's a soft place there," and v/ould pile more food upon the child's plate. -^ Or he v/ould choke upon a bone while ravenously eating fish. Often he would come home and build a blazing fire and fill the house with his vitality, as he does upon his return from California: Then he seized the oil-can, and drenched the wood with kerosene. The flame roared up out of the stove. •Mercy, Mr. Gant,' cried Eliza, 'you'll burn us up.' But, seizing a handful of cut sticks and the oil-can, he lunged furiously toward the sitting-room. 10

As the flame shot roaring up from the oiled pine sticks, and he felt the fire- full chimney-throat tremble, he recovered joy. He brought back the v/idth of the desert; the vast yellov/ serpent of the river, alluvial with the mined accretions of the continent; the rich vision of laden ships. . . .H The episode continues with a vivid account of Gant's journey. Gant's affection for his family, though good-natured, is characteristically loud and violent, as is his ritualistic method of wakening his sons: "Steve! Ben! Grover! Luke! You damned scoundrels: get up! In God's name, what v/ill 15 become of you!" "^ As Gant paces at the foot of the stairs, he recites the universal parental "when I was your age" monologue and continues to bellov/ his pessimistic predic­ tions. By the time the children have dressed before his roaring fire and are seated at his abundant table, Old Gant is in high spirits. Upon another occasion, Gant is overcome with paternal delight as the infant Eugene imitates Swain's cow. Gant races back to the house, nuzzling Eugene's tender neck with his grizzly moustache and lowing: "Moo-o-o! He said •Moo-o-o!' Yes he did!"''^ The regular loiterers at Gant's shop know him well enough. He drives them out v/ith a sudden outburst of such epithets as "'lousy good-for-nothing bums' . . . 'low 11 degenerates' . . . 'fearful, av/ful, and bloodthirsty mountain grills'"; and with accusations like "*you have brought me to the verge of starvation* . . . 'you v/ould steal the pennies from a dead man's eyes.'" '^ The men know him, for they simply declare that he is "upset," and drift back to the shop a mere hour later. He has quite forgotten the inci­ dent as he replies to the boys* greeting. "'Good day, boys,* he v/ould ansv/er kindly, absently. And he would be lfi away v/ith his gaunt devouring strides." Gant's dread and fear of death is touching in some of the scenes. An av/areness of this feeling emerges when Gant rides the streetcar after his California trip. The neigh­ borly chatter of the motorraan makes Gant realize the sudden­ ness and the finality of death. "'No, sir,' said the motorraan, sliding back the door, ' you never knov/ v/ho'll go next. Here to-day and gone to-morrow. Hit gits the big 19 •uns first sometimes.'" -^ As he leaves the car, Gant's stream-of-consciousness reveals his reaction as he thinks of the corpse lying in the grave, the verse chiseled on the headstone, the diseased body, and the doctors. As he grows old, Gant begins to suffer the discomforts common among men his age, especially among such self-in­ dulgent men. After drinking sprees, he groans painfully, cursing God, and, at the same time, begging for mercy. Prior to surgery, he awakens the household with fearful 12 cries: "I see it! I see it! The knife! The knife! . . . Do you see its shadow? . . . There! There! There!" Gant recoils and points. "Do you see him standing there in the shadows? So you've come at last to take the old man with you? . . . There he stands—the Grim Reaper—as I always ?1 knew he v/ould. Jesus have mercy on my soul!" Surely this is the old raan, about whom V/olfe wrote to his mother, "who thought he v/as afraid to die," and who, in a later book, "died like a warrior in an epic poem." 22 Mr. Gant's bombastic language explodes whenever the occasion allows it, for his love for words becomes evident in his more active moments. During one of his drunken rages, Eliza locks him out of her room. Gant*s retaliation is rich with favorite phrases, names, and even a quotation: Eliza is a snake wriggling on her belly; it*s fearful, awful, and cruel that God should punish him like that in his old age; the memory of Cynthia, the first wife, is in­ voked; the family has kicked the old raan into the street. Then as Gant becomes really stirred, his self-pity is climaxed with a quotation from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar: "Look, in this place ran Cassius' daggar through ..."-* Gant concludes the final act of his histrionic performance by completing the line. At home Gant tortures Eliza by criticizing her rela­ tives, the Pentlands. He delights the children with his 13 dramatics, his rhetorical questions, his epithets, his re­ petition, and his mimicking: We will freeze, we v.ill freeze in this hellish, damnable, cruel and God-forsaken climate. Does Brother Will care? Does Brother Jim care? Did the Old Hog, your miserable old father care? Merciful God! I have fallen into the hands of fiends incarnate. . . .24 After more name-calling, Gant pauses, muttering to himself, while Luke grins. He takes up the speech again as he bursts: "But they can eat! They can eat—when some one 25 else will feed them." ^ He then proceeds to imitate their table manners and their requests for extra helpings. Once again, the gusto and the rhetoric of Gant are exposed in a short, dramatic scene. Oliver Gant appears often in the novel. As a complex character, he has many traits. The reader becomes acquainted with him much as he would in person—by encountering Gant at various times, by observing his language and his actions. Thomas Wolfe provides these realistic raeetingsb y means of the episode. The world of Eliza Gant is made up of business ambition. She desires financial security rather than an abundant home life. Therefore, she schemes over real estate; practices thrift; v/aits upon boarders, often to the point of neglect­ ing her ovm family. Nevertheless, she is attached to her husband and family in her ov/n reserved manner. Her speech 14 and actions, like Gant's are revealed in various episodes. Indeed, she can be observed even more clearly in juxta­ position to Gant.

One such instance occurs when Eliza and Oliver first meet. He is resting in his office when she calls upon him as a saleslady. Her first v/ords in the novel are typical of her manner: "I tell you what, I wish I was a man and had nothing to do but lie around all day on a good easy sofa." Gant alludes to his health, to which she replies, "Pshaw!" She believes that it is all in his mind. Within a few minutes she sells him the two books she came to sell and turns the conversation to real estate. Her lip-pursing speculation has already begun. "'They're go­ ing to run a street through there some day as sure as you live. And when they do—' she pursed her lips reflectively, 27 •that property is going to be worth money.'" In this early scene, Eliza's aspiration is focused sharply against Gant's abhorence of property ownership. Eliza enjoys her family, but she is embarrassed to shov/ affection. For example, when Gant makes such an ado over Eugene's imitation of Swain's cow, she pretends to be more sensible: "Eliza was likev/ise thrilled, but her way of showing it was to turn back to the stove, hiding her pleas­ ure, and saying: 'I'll vow, Mr. Gant. I never saw such an idiot v/ith a child.'"^^ 15

Eliza becomes av/kv/ard and, consequently, talks about herself when Gant suddenly returns from California: "'Why, what on earth!' she cried as he knew she v/ould, becoming flustered and moving her arms indeterminately. He laid his hand clumsily on her shoulder for a moment. They stood awkv/ardly without movement." ^ After Gant builds his fire, against her protest, and recounts his travel ex­ periences, Eliza recovers speech: "*I was saying to Steve last night, "It wouldn*t surprise me if your papa would come rolling in at any minute now"—I just had a feeling, I don*t know v/hat you*d call it,* she said, her face plucked inward by the sudden fabrication of legend, *but it's pretty strange when you come to think about it. . . . " This is Eliza's customary way of talking, v/e know, as we read at the end of Eliza's prattle, "Jesus God! thought Gant. It's begun again."-^3 1 Eliza's enthusiasm for thrift causes unpleasantness and, sometimes, pain—mental or physical—among her family. Helen is the victim as Eliza and the children board the train for St. Louis. She squirms as Eliza suggests that she should "scrooch up" so that only half-fare will be required. To Gant's protest, Eliza retorts, "Pshaw! No 32 one will ever notice her."*^ At another time Eugene*s feet suffer from her toe-pinching, penny-pinching practices. This time she retrieves a pair of shoes which Ben has 16 discarded as uncomfortable. She remarks that it is a shame to throw away good shoes. "You*11 never have a penny, boy, as long as you v/aste money the way you do. I tell you what, it's pretty bad when you think of it," she 33 admonishes Ben.*^-^ Thus, Eugene inherits shoes that are much too tight for him. When he finally gives up wearing them after six weeks, his feet are in terrible shape: " . . . his toes that had grown through boyhood straight and strong were pressed into a pulp, the bones gnarled, bent and twisted, the nails thick and dead."-^ Eliza re­ grets the event. "It does seem a pity to throv/ those good shoes away," she sighs."^-3^5 Hov/ever, Eliza does have rare moments of generosity. For instance, she discusses v/ith Mrs. Morgan, a boarder whose "husband*' is away, the approaching birth of Mrs, Morgan's baby. When Eliza discovers that the girl has no money, she produces a roll of banknotes: "'Well, I reckon you'll have to have a little money,' said Eliza, peeling off two tens, and giving them to Mrs. Morgan. . . . 'You can stay here until you're able to work again,' said Eliza. 'I know a good doctor.'"-^ By this scene and the preceding one, one can see that the boarders, rather than the Gants, are often the beneficiaries of Eliza's more generous qualities

"One of the Girls in Our Party," a story in From Death to Morning, reveals characters through incidents occurring 17

at various points of interest during a European tour v/ith schoolteachers. As one of the teachers writes home, she tells of the things that impressed her most, which usually turn out to be something trivial that happened to one of "the girls." For example. Miss Powers is portrayed as a sour person because she argues with the popular tour guide over the number of steps in a very old tower in the Nether­ lands. The episode reveals her persistence in continuing the argument and the guide's diplomacy in making a joke of the whole affair. A similar episode is related in the letter whenever a location or any scenery is mentioned. In this way, the reader forms an idea of what the various members of the tour are like. You Can't Go Home Again treats a great number of characters and requires fewer episodes to portray a particu­ lar character than Wolfe's first novel did. Mr. David Merritt appears in a small part of the novel, and yet, the reader sees a definite image of this character. The chapter in which Mr. Merritt appears is appropriately entitled "The Company." Mr. Merritt, as Randy Shepperton's boss, is a representative of a national company dealing in business machines. The surface impression of this charac­ ter is revealed through the eyes of George, upon their first meeting. Mr. Merritt seems to be on a good-will mis­ sion as he slaps people on the back and gives away expensive 18

cigars. He brings expensive beverages with him when he comes to visit the Sheppertons. The first impression is that Dave Merritt is a likable fellow. A second image, the business one, appears as George listens to Mr. Merritt talk to the men after supper. His involvement v/ith his work becomes apparent as one realizes that he monopolizes the conversation v/ith the stories and the jargon of "the Company." George is especially interested in the terms "creative salesmanship" and "creating the market." The representative explains the concept as he drives the point at Randy Shepperton: "Why, if we waited nowadays to sell a machine to someone v/ho needs one, we*d get nowhere." He was nodding now at Randy, and speaking with the seriousness of deep conviction. "V/e don*t v/ait until he needs one. If he says he*s get­ ting along all right without one, we make him buy one anyhow. V/e make him see the need, don*t v/e. Randy? In other words, we create the need."37

Next, George sees Mr. Merritt in terras of the nature of his work, when he accidentally overhears the representa­ tive giving his friend Randy the terrible ultimatum: **You deliver or you go right out on your can! See? The Company

•50 doesn't give a damn about you! It's after the business!" Now the position of Mr. Merritt is clear. As soon as Mr. Merritt sees George, he slips back into his friendly manner and tries to smooth things over with a joke. Thus, the 19 idea of the dual personality is reinforced in the mind of the reader.

Mrs. Daisy Purvis, charv/oman, of London, is revealed vividly through a few short episodes. Her interview with George about the menu for the week reveals her ability to dominate her employer in an indirect, subtle manner: "Something in the faint formality of the tone informed hira that even though he might like to have eggs, Mrs, Purvis would not approve, so he said, * ... I think we*ve had too many eggs, don*t you?*" -^ Mrs. Purvis wins the consent of George to buy the grocery items she desires; yet, with her formal approach, she does not directly ask for anything, Mrs. Purvis expresses a British affection for dogs. She likes them so much, in fact, that they mean more to her than people do. This attitude is revealed in two re­ lated incidents. The first of the two scenes involves her acquaintance with people. George inquires about the identity of a few neighbors, to v/hich Mrs. Purvis responds with a description of each person's dog. She cannot iden­ tify one young lady, so she waits until she sees her with •the dog; then she knows the young lady. She tells George, not of the v/oraan, but of the great Dane: "*E*s big as a Shetland pony. . . . And the rascal—ah-h, what a rascal •e is! Oh, a fine fellow, you know. So big and strong 20

•e is. I sometimes wonder where they keep •im, 'ow they found a 'ouse big enough to put 'im in."^^ A short time later, Mrs. Purvis deals with the poverty- stricken boy who delivers beer to George's apartment. She orders him about sharply and tells him how clvunsy, dirty, and shameful he is. This scene is not lost; for Wolfe skillfully pits it against Mrs. Purvis* praise of dogs, 1 and against another time, when she indignantly denounces the treatment she sees a man give a horse. Many other characters could be used to illustrate 1 Wolfe's skill and technique in delineation of character. However, for the sake of brevity, only these few have been observed so that it may be concluded that the speech and actions of the characters are revealed effectively within the framework of episodes. CHAPTER III

THE EPISODE AND THE SITUATION

Among the most notable episodes found in Wolfe*s works are some which evolved from a type of situation or from some specific occasion. Some of the most effective scenes occur at departure time at a train station. At times, classroom circumstances offer tension or irony. Impressions of characters and of a city are derived oc­ casionally from early morning scenes v/hen a character* s first v/aking moments are exposed. Occasionally, a setting in a lunchroom or a restaurant offers a brief human-in­ terest passage. The ritual and aura surrounding death and burial furnish drama and insight. The particular situations just mentioned are recognized readily in the short stories as well as the novels. The mixed feelings of anticipation and sorrowful de­ parture are beautifully captured whenever Wolfe conveys his reader to the train station. The first such visit oc­ curs v/ith Oliver Gant reluctantly seeing Eliza and the children off to St. Louis. Helen is embarrassed about the half-fare business. Eliza covets a coin which Gant gives

21 22 the porter. Gant gives an extra pat to Helen in saying goodbye. The parents become awkward, v/ondering if they are doing the right thing. The emotions reach a climax as Gant kisses Eliza and leaves quickly: "*Good-by, good- by,• cried Eliza, waving Eugene*s small hand at the long figure on the platform. *Children,* she said, 'wave good- by to your papa.' They all crowded to the window. Eliza v/ept."^ Only at such an intense moment could Wolfe end successfully with those last two words. After college graduation, Eugene sees his parents to the train. This particular scene is preceded by a narra­ tion of Eliza and Oliver's proud observations of Eugene's scholastic success. Nov/ the atmosphere is changed as the aging father dreads the trip homev/ard, and as the mother presses Eugene for his plans. One can feel the anxiety in Eugene as he says, "I'll talk to you in a fev/ days when I see you at home." The train starts to move, and it is Eugene, rather than the travelers, who has escaped. As George Webber enters the Pennsylvania Station in New York, a niimber of things happen. First, George's dread of his aunt's funeral disappears momentarily. Second, Wolfe gives a description of the station as seen by George. Third, V/olfe, alias George, reflects upon the fascination the station produces: "Fev/ buildings are vast enough to hold the sound of time, and now it seemed to George that 23

there was a superb fitness in the fact that the one which held it better than all others should be a railroad sta­ tion. For here, as nov/here else on earth, men vyere brought together for a moment at the beginning or end of their in­ numerable journeys, here one saw their greetings and fare­ wells, here, in a single instant, one got the entire pic­ ture of human destiny."^-^ Next, a short drama reveals the excitement of people who are trying to make last-minute arrangements. An argu­ ment develops at the ticket counter; people in line protest, and a happy Negro porter reassures: "You folks don't need to hurry now. You got lotsa time to make that train. It ain't goin' av/ay without you."^ Finally, descriptions of the many passengers develop into a catalogue of antitheses. Thus, attention is diverted momentarily from the death of the aunt, George is launched upon his journey, and a moment of observation has led to a general view of human life. The German Bahnhof seems to hold a particular interest for Wolfe, as observed in You Can't Go Home Again and in the story, "Dark in the Forest, Strange as Time." The chapter entitled "Last Farewell" is an appropriate transi­ tion for the hero of You Can*t Go Home Again, for it is in the Berlin station that he begins to see the sickness and the panic of the people. The open antagonism, especially the icy stares and the heated argument, between George*s 24 friends. Else von Kohler and Franz Heilig, disturbs him. More bewildering, however, is the false front carried by a man called Lewald. Lewald-s apparent friendliness, his teasing, and suggestive singing give an impression that he is quite agreeable and jovial; but George sees beyond this appearance: "That bluff and hearty openness was just a mask v/hich Lev/aid used against the world with all the deceptive grace and subtlety of a great matador preparing to give the finishing stroke to a charging bull. Behind that mask was concealed the true image of the raan*s soul, which was sly, dexterous, crafty, and cunning."4 5^^ Each of the three friends says goodbye in his own way: Franz in a tragic voice, weeping Else v/ith an embrace, and Lewald v/ith his cheery auf vdedersehen and his raockingsong . This is the beginning of a sad farev/ell to Germany. It is the starting point of George*s realization of the human destructive quality, for he is soon to witness the capture of a fellow traveler. Perhaps most effective of all the train station scenes is that which introduces the story "Dark in the Forest, Strange as Time." Here, a youth traveling alone observes the universal aspect of parting, and he notices particu­ larly a couple who are vitally involved with the rest of the story. The woman is described painstakingly as a beautiful, alive person. In contrast, her companion is 25 just as vividly portrayed as an unattractively wasted man.

As the time for leaving approaches, the custoraary activities among a crowd at the platform is described. Amid the embraces, the porter*s cry, the promises and farev/ells, the hero hears the jovial conversations. The people have to shout above the noise: "Will you see Else? 47 . . . Tell her she*s got to write.*' ' Someone shouts a joke about Uncle V/alter*s woolen underv/ear, and the crowd joins in the laughter. They also laugh about a meaningless joke about a cake recipe. The author observes: "People were speaking the universal language of departure, that varies not at all the world over—that language v/hich is often banal, trivial, and even useless, but on this account curiously moving, since it serves to hide a deeper emotion in the hearts of men, to fill the vacancy that is in their hearts at the thought of parting, to act as a shield, a 48 concealing mask to their true feeling." The youth who is v/atching the scene thinks of the "thrilling and poignant AQ quality in the ceremony of the train*s departure." ^ It is against this background that the diseased man says goodbye to the woman, who personifies life. His de­ parture is not so cheerful as that of the others, but it is just as lonely. Before the train is out of sight, the woman is met and embraced by a new, younger man. So the 26

Bahnhof scene has served to introduce the theme of imi- versality, which leads into a man's journey to death, and it has created interest in the story of the couple. Battles of the v/ill occur in the classroom at different times in Look Homeward, Angel. The boys at John Dorsey Leonard's school often try to draw hira into a discussion of a topic v/ith which he feels insecure. For example, the boys ask him questions about Virgil, to v/hich he makes vague replies. It is a different sort of Latin, above the boys' heads. Another year they will be ready for it, but they are not ready now. Suddenly, Eugene demands to Icnow about Catullus and the type of poetry he wrote. Eugene v/ill not settle for obscure answers. He reveals the theme of love and talks about who Lesbia was: 'She was a man's v/ife!' he said loudly. ' That' s who she v/as.' Awful stillness. 'V/hy—here—who told you that?' said Mr. Leonard, bewildered but considering matrimony a v/ild and possibly dangerous myth. 'V/ho told you, boy?' 'What was she then?' said Tom Davis pointedly. 'Why—not exactly,' Mr. Leonard raurmered, rubbing his chin. •She was a Bad Woman,' said Eugene. Then, most desparately, he added: 'She was a Little Chippie.'50 By the time Mr. Leonard regains enough control to resume the Latin lesson, the bell rings, and the boys have won. Similarly, the pupils study very diligently in order to confuse their pedagogue on the finer points of German 27 grammar. The reader is compelled to laugh with the boys as he visualizes the scene: "V/ith thick chalked fingers John Dorsey thoughtfully massaged his torso from loin to chin. »Now let me see,' he whined with studious delibera­ tion, 'what he gives on this.' He fumbled for the notes."^'' Poor John Dorsey does not stand a chance.

As might be expected, the college situation allov/s the professors to make fools of themselves in a much more sophisticated way. For instance, the obscure lecture consists of a true appreciation and a higher caliber of vocabulary: "Observe, observe how skillfully he holds suspense tintil the very end. Observe with what consiimraate art he builds up his climax, keeping his meaning hidden 52 until the very last word." The professors are more alert to the boys* pranks, and are, therefore, more suc­ cessful in warding trickery off—whether there is any or not. The Latin instructor mistakes Eugene*s hard work for reliance upon professional translations: *'Bravo, Brother Gant! Excellent! Splendid! You are riding a good pony—but a little too smoothly, my boy. You ride 53 a little too well." Ironically, he goads Eugene into doing the very thing he is trying to avoid. Eugene buys a translation and learns to falter when he reads, to which the professor responds: "Good, Mr. Gant.. Very good. 54 That shows what a little real work will do." ^ 28

Early morning scenes impress the setting and charac­ ters of Wolfe's novels upon the reader. Look Homev/ard, Angel includes a series of awakenings which reinforce the images of Gant and Eliza and portray the atmosphere and activities of the Southern town. The passage opens with Gant as he enjoys leisurely, sensually, the spring morn­ ing. When he rises and dresses, he feels refreshed: "He was stimulated and alive in all the fresh wakefullness of 55 the Spring morning."-^^ At the same time. Judge V/ebster Tayloe rises to don his stark clothing and to eye jeal­ ously his abundant property: "He smiled grimly: if attacked he could withstand a prolonged siege." 56 Back in town, Eliza is awakened by the raaid*sknock ­ ing on her door. Eliza*s inclination toward frugality is revealed: *'Her chamber was festooned with a pendant wilderness of cord and string; stacks of old nev/spapers and magazines v/ere piled in the corners; and every shelf was loaded with gummed, labelled, half-filled medicine bottles." And, of course, any mention of Eliza is in- coraplete without including her boarders; so a quick view of the various occupants of Dixieland follows. The colored section of town is pictured from the home of Moses Andrew. In contrast to the other lively scenes, this is a still one, for Moses was murdered during the night. 29

The view of the town is enlarged to include the morn­ ing ritual of the pious Presbyterian minister, the treat­ ment of the newspaper publisher at a bath house, and the closing of a "pastime" club.

Morning scenes in You Can't Go Home Again reveal three city-dwellers. Two chapters dealing with the Jacks focus upon the way Mr. and Mrs. Jack fit into "The World That Jack Built." In the chapter, **Jack at Morn," Mr. Jack views the day and the city as his. It is the day for the party at his apartment. Y/hile he looks out the v/indow, the city seems to exist for his ov/n pleasure. "*My city,* he thought. *Mine.* It filled his heart with certitude and joy because he had learned, like many other men, to see, to marvel, to accept, and not to ask disturbing 58 questions." The luxurious simplicity of his room re­ flects his orderly personality and the qualities he likes— spaciousness, wealth, and power. His careful grooming habits and exquisite wardrobe reflect Mr. Jack*s fastidious tastes. The chapter continues to relate hov/ Mr. Jack spends his morning by playing the role of the aristocrat. Mrs. Jack starts her day in "Mrs. Jack Av/ake." The comfortable life allows her to remain childish in some ways, and her beauty has not yet been spoiled. As Mrs. Jack lies in bed, she looks at herself much as a child would, es­ pecially raarveling at the raagicalmovement s of her hands. 30 : • ii- She is quite pleased with herself as she thinks: "These J are my hands and these are my fingers, these are my legs and hips, these are my fine feet and ray perfect toes—this is my body."-^^ But Mrs. Jack has another kind of av/akening, too. In her snug world, it has never occured to her what other people*s lives are like. As her maid enters and speaks to Mrs. Jack, it is apparent that the maid has been drink­ ing—again. Mrs. Jack wonders idly what causes *'that kind of person" to act "that way." Then for a brief raoraent, j she notices the disparity between her own life and that 1 of her maid: . . . She felt moraentarily the detached curi­ osity that a powerful, rich, and decisive character may feel when he pauses for a moment from the brilliant exercise of a talent that has crowned his life with triumphant ease and success almost every step of the way, and notes suddenly, and v/ith surprise, that most of the other people in the world are fumbling blindly and wretchedly about, eking out from day to day the flabby substance of grey lives. She realized with regret that such people are so utterly lacking in any individual distinc­ tion that each seems to be a small particle of some immense and vicious life-stuff rather than a living creature who is able to feel and to inspire love, beauty, joy, passion, pain, and death. With a sense of sudden discovery the .mistress was feeling this as she looked at the servant v/ho had lived with her familiarly for almost tv/enty years. . . .^^ This latter awakening, alas, is only a slight and temporary one. 31

The editor, Foxhall Edwards, is portrayed in yet another awakening scene. It is a bit amusing to imagine his quick fox-like eyes and movements, to read of his blundering v/ays as he enters the shower, still clad in pajamas. He wears his hat from the moment he wakes up, and appears startled at small discoveries v/ith his "Oh. I see." Most of all, he is a raan, simply because he is a raan. In other words, his clothes fit beautifully, but not because of a London tailor like Mr. Jack*s. Rather, his grace is quite unconscious: "His clothes just seem to grow on him: whatever he wears takes on at once the grace, the dignity, and the unconscious ease of his own

person. Never exercises much, but never has to; loves to 61 take a walk, is bored by games and plays none. ..." The Fox's wealth is himself. His raorning is not the self-conscious, orderly routine of Mr. Jack's. Whether people are gathered at a cafe in the South or at a New York restaurant, one can expect the conversation to be lively. Mr. Wolfe skillfully uses these scenes to bring out human fellowship in a humorous way. Perhaps the most memorable of these episodes appears in "In the Park" when two priests become involved in an argument. Because of its humorous nature, this episode is to be treated in a later chapter. 32

The scene which encouraged Maxwell Perkins to finish reading Look Homeward, Angel is a powerful one. This epi­ sode is humorous also, in a grim v/ay; but the social inter­ action, the setting, the subjects of conversation give it depth. Very early in the morning at Uneeda Lunch No. 3, a small group of professionals are drawn together for cheap food, bad coffee, and an exchange of small talk. Even­ tually, there are four doctors, two newspaper men, and an undertaker, besides the counterman and a policeman. One doctor has come from attending a dying woman. Another is j awaiting surgery. One has been to a party, and another at a convention. The doctors exchange insults and joke with the undertaker, telling him that he should give one of them a commission. "Horse" Hines is indignant. He makes a speech about the dignity and honor of his profession. The doctors, hov/ever, are merciless and change the v/ord balm to embalm: "V/hat about embalming the broken heart of Grief?" The volley of v/ords is often imderscored vTith variations of Ben Gant*s favorite expression. "Oh, listen to this, won't you?" The conversation takes a bit more serious turn as McGuire expresses his preference for practicality over scholarship. He compares his job as a surgeon to that of many other trades such as plumbing and interior decorating. Then he describes his work in a hearty manner: "I take 33 out their works, spit upon them, trim off the dirty edges, and send them on their way again. I economize, Dick; I throw away everything I can't use, and use everything I throw av/ay." ^ Even though his means of expression is amusing, he is serious about his philosophy, which includes scorn for literary doctors.

Y/olfe uses two more restaurant scenes a bit differently ^^ ^Q^ Can't Go Home Again. George V/ebber encounters a waiter who begs him to write a story for him. The reader sees that the waiter thinks he has a special insight. If a only he had the mysterious powers that George has, he 'J I t thinks, he could perform that wonderful magic called writing, As an artist, hov/ever, George does not feel obliged to v/rite another man's story. Another interesting incident occurs when Foxhall Edv/ards has an unusual conversation with a hat-check girl. The suspicion of the girl and the eccentric manner of the Pox are emphasized. The occurance of death and its following rituals play no small part in V/olfe's works. The death of family raerabers is evident throughout his writings. As a small boy, Eugene is called upon to view Grover's body on the "cooling board." As a teenager, he suffers v/ith his family through the death of his brother Ben. Y/hile they stand at Ben's deathbed, the Gants seem to experience some kind of communal feeling: 34

"They grew quiet and calm, they plimged below all the splintered v/reckage of their lives, they drew together in a superb conrniiuiion of love and valiance, beyond horror and confusion, beyond death."^^ All during the long death of Ben, the family has many experiences. They live through arguments, rejection, fear, hope, fatigue, sympathy, re­ lief. As Eugene sees Eliza clinging to Ben at the last, he realizes the implications for a mother when one of her offspring dies: "... he sav/ that she was watching her own death, that the unloosening grip of her hand on Ben's hand was an act of union with her own flesh, that, for her, Ben was not dying—but that a part of her, of her life, her blood, her body was dying. Part of her, the younger, the lovelier, the better part, coined in her flesh, borne and nourished and begun with so much pain there twenty-six years before, and forgotten since, was dying."^^ Wolfe writes about the aftennath of death, too. The visit that Luke and Eugene pay to the undertaker, Mr. Hines, is dramatic in its hysterical kind of relief. Eugene's reaction provides comment upon the customary ideas of and about morticians. Horse takes pride in his profession, especially in preparing the body for burial. He does not try to capture the essence of the deceased, but attempts to make a pretty corpse. He continues to fish for 35 compliments from the boys and to proclaim, "That's art, 67 boys!" By this time, Eugene is overcome. He submits to a long fit of laughter, which Hines attributes to "the strain."

The laying-out of Aunt Mav/, however, is more true to character. In Y"ou Can't Go Home Again, she is prepared for burial by women because, as a spinster and a virgin, she had a terrible fear that some man might see her body. Nor had she consented to be embalmed. At the funeral, three days after death, "it seemed to George a grim but fitting ending that the last memory he would have of that little house, which in his childhood had been so filled with the stench of death-in-life, should now be the stench of death itself."^^ Mock grief and irreverence are noted by the Wolfean hero at burial time. Eugene, for instance, notices in the procession to Ben's burial that the women look to see if the tov/n is watching them as they weep. He notices how the people retreat afterwards: "There was a fast indecent hurry about their escape. The long barbarism of burial was at an end."^^ George suffers silently on the way to the cemetery, while a "friend," Mrs. Dalia Flood, rattles on about this piece of property and that. The final blow comes when Aunt Maw's coffin is being carried to the grave. Mrs. Flood laments audibly that such good property is used 36 as a cemetery: "Why, as I told Prank Candler just the other day, they've gone and deliberately given away the two best building sites in town to the niggers and the dead people !"'^^ As a writer, Wolfe has found various occasions pregnant. Therefore, he uses some of the same occasions repeatedly. V/ith a little variation in setting and charac­ ters he exploits the dramatic potential. The episode, as we have just observed, is especially adaptive to the re­ currence of similar situations.

I I

'3l CHAPTER IV

THE EPISODE AliD THEME

In creating his stories and novels, Wolfe relied upon themes rather than upon plots to knit a work together. Richard Walser recognizes one basic theme throughout V/olfe's writing career: "In America—strange, vast, poetic—the individual was a v/anderer, lonely and set apart."7'1 In Look Homeward, Angel, Eugene is a lonely boy wandering i through a series of experiences tov/ard maturity. Therefore, I Richard S. Kennedy holds that it is a novel of development. "Look Homev/ard, Angel," he says, "contains all the experi­ ences that the apprentice-hero usually passes through, 72 except the religious ordeal."' Mr. Kennedy goes on to list the experiences involved, such as familial relations, school, sex, love and the loss of love, and death. Most of all, Eugene reaches his own interpretation of life at the end of the novel. It would be safe, then, to make the statement that Look Homeward, Angel is about the matura­ tion of Eugene. The episode is the raeans through which V/olfe effects the loneliness, the groping pain, the wonder of growing up.

37 IM 38

For instance, Eugene learns the magic of forming words and letters from a schoolmate. Max Isaacs. First, Max tells Eugene that the marks on his paper "ain't writin'." Then, he shows Eugene what to do by example: The line of life, that beautiful developing structure of language that he saw flowing from his comrade's pencil, cut the knot in him that all instruction failed to do, and instantly he seized the pencil, and wrote the words in let­ ters fairer and finer than his friend's. And he turned, with a cry in his throat, to the next page, and copied it without hesitation, and the next, the next. They looked at each \ other a moment v/ith that clear wonder by which ; children accept miracles, and they never spoke '•» of it again.'^^ J

>i Eugene repeatedly makes new discoveries, but as he matures he realizes that Max Isaacs cannot always be with him. Eugene's isolation is very noticeable throughout the novel. V/ith Helen, he suffers condemnation: "You little freak. You nasty little freak. You don't even know v/ho you are. . . . You*re not a Gant. Any one can see that. You haven*t a drop of papa*s blood in you. Queer one! Queer one! You*re Greeley Pentland all over again." The separateness from his brothers takes a more active form, for they often clash physically. Eugene feels es­ pecially persecuted v/hen he is being criticized for getting drimk during the Christmas holidays. He attacks Ben, who, he feels,'has deserted him. The young brother*s explana­ tion following the fight reveals his hostile feelings: 39

'l*m sorry I jumped on you Ben. You,* he said to [Luke], * jumped on my back like a coward. But I*m sorry for what's happened, I*m sorry for what happened the other night and now. I said so, and you wouldn*t leave rae alone. You*ve tried to drive me crazy v/ith your talk. And I didn't,* he choked, *I didn*t think you*d turn against me as you have. I know what the others are like—they hate me!*75

Even among his own family, the young hero is a lonely, separate person.

Eugene*s first job is delivering nev/spapers on the "Niggertown route." A whole new v/orld is opened for Eugene as he accompanies the retiring carrier through that section of town. As the experienced boy throv/s the nev/spaper ac­ curately upon each porch, he tells Eugene what to expect from the respective customers. Some, he says, are *'good niggers" and will pay promptly. Others must be solicited often, and perhaps taken off the list if they do not pay soon. He proudly tells Eugene, "It*s a hell of a route. When it rains it*s terrible. You*11 go into mud up to 76 your knees. And you can't collect from half the bastards."' Eugene is introduced to the idea of using Negro women as sex objects: * V/ith—with niggers?* Eugene whispered, moistening his dry lips. Jennings V/are turned his red satirical face on him. •You don*t see any Society Belles around here, do you?* he said.77 This episode and a later one with a young negress portray 40 the initiation of Eugene into the business world and into an awareness of women.

A number of similar initiation experiences follow as Eugene goes to college, visits a brothel in Exeter, suffers immediately from nausea and later from guilt and disease. Each of these scenes is produced in such a way that the young hero wanders innocently from one new experience to another. Kennedy signifies alcohol as "the sacred brew of 78 twentieth-century initiation rites." This statement can be applied to Eugene in the episode involving his first i substantial drink. Eugene passes through various stages of exhilaration, paralysis, reflection, blissful wandering, sickness, and "the morning after." For instance, a partial paralysis leaves his speech impaired. This strange speech fascinates him: " , . . his tongue thickened until he could not bend it to the cunning sounds of words. He spoke aloud, repeating difficult phrases over and over, filled 7q with wild laughter and delight at his effort,"^ V/ith this strange new sensation, Eugene feels that he might, after all, become like the older members of his family: "It was, he knew, one of the great raoments in his life—he lay, greedily watching the mastery of the grape over his virgin flesh, like a girl for the first time in the embrace of her lover. And suddenly, he knew how completely he v/as '!>-!

\^\ 41 his father's son—how completely, and with what added power and exquisite refinement of sensation, was he Gantian." The young hero not only discovers new experiences, but also savors them. His story is one of celebration of life. A development novel should also include the youthful questions, *'What is life about? Why am I here?" Look Homev/ard, Angel does ask these questions. Ben asks a doc­ tor what he should believe. The scene occurs when Ben asks Doctor Coker if he is fit to enlist in the Army. The discussion leads into an outburst: "*In Christ*s name, I Coker,* he said, *what*s it all about? Are you able to i 5; tell me? V/hat in heaven* s name are we here for? You're •' 81 '• a doctor—you ought to know something,*" The doctor is .! i: moved by the youth*s concern, but feels inadequate to " answer him. The question by young Ben about his spiritual existence is coupled with his concern for his physical condition. Again, the doctor finds it difficult to answer hira: *Yes,* he said, *You*re all right, Ben, You*re one of the raost all right people I know.* Ben read the true answer in Coker*s veined and weary eyes. His own were sick v/ith fear,82 The older brother, Ben, has gone before Eugene in the quest for "the truth," and nov/ Ben faces disease and death. The end of the novel brings Eugene to an encounter with Ben*s ghost. Eugene asks of Ben, because Ben has 42 lived and died, "Where is the world?" And Ben gives him the answer: "*Nowhere,* Ben said. *You are your world,'"^-^ Eugene has realized a new discovery. His world is to be found through his ov/n experiences, not through some out­ side force. He looks to the hills in anticipation of the life ahead of him. George Webber, the hero of You Can't Go Home Again, also comes to new understandings through a series of ex­ periences. Although this novel is not considered an ini­ tiation novel, it does reveal the particular incidents which enlighten the hero. By the time this work appears, \ \ hov/ever, the overall theme, which is indicated by the title, is subdivided into more themes. Clyde C, Clements, Jr. calls these subdivisions "symbolic patterns." "The Pattern of Fame in Exile," he suggests, embodies George's en­ counter with Lloyd McHarg and George's enjoyment of popu­ larity in Germany. Let us consider further hov/ Wolfe uses the section on McHarg to carry his thoughts on fame. The young artist- hero has been searching for something to cling to, such as love, family, or home-town. He has come to the conclusion that fame, the fair Medusa, is the answer to his search. At this point, he meets Lloyd McHarg, who represents fame itself. The episode v/hich raost clearly illustrates V/olfe's therae, fame is not enough, is that in which George takes a 43 trip with McHarg to the country home of some friends. Instead of being peaceful and satisfied, McHarg is an im­ patient man, driven by nervous energy. Because he refuses to take time to eat, he collapses while George packs a fev/ extra^shirts. On the road, the men lose their way in a storm; yet McHarg refuses to turn back. The exhausted McHarg appears to be gravely ill, and George finds the experience macabre: "There by the roadside in the darkness, in stormy wind and scudding rain, they halted. In the v;an and fitful light of the spectral moon McHarg's appearance 1 i was ghastly. His face nov/ looked livid and deathlike. I t George was greatly alarmed. . . . "8 5^ At the friend's house, George learns that this kind of thing has happened before. The Englishman explains: "He drives himself mercilessly, you knov/—won't rest—won't stop to eat— Or ' doesn't knov/ how to take care of himself." Now the episode just described is effective within itself and is not much different from the episodes which appear in V/olfe's earlier works. Yet, this incident sup­ ports a particular therae because it is used in conjunction v/ith an image. Since George has referred to fame as "the fair Medusa," the exhaustion of McHarg is readily associated with the poisonous effect of fame, McHarg has looked fame in the face, and instead of being satisfied, he has driven himself to the point of paralysis. 44

Another episode becomes more pertinent in conjunction with a particular image. The time that George overhears Mr. Merritt threatening to take away Randy Shepperton's ^ job, he recalls a picture depicting Egyptian slavery: It was a picture he had seen in a gallery somewhere, portraying a long line of men stretching from the Great Pyramid to the very portals of great Pharoah's house, and great Pharoah stood with a thonged whip in his hand and applied it unmercifully to the bare back and shoulders of the man in front of him, who was great Pharoah's chief over­ seer, and in the hand of the overseer was a whip of many tails which he unstintedly ap­ plied to the quivering back of the wretch before hira, who was the chief overseer's chief lieutenant, and in the lieutenant's hand a whip of rawhide. . . . o7 And the image continues down through the ranks with in­ creasingly more painful driving devices applied with higher and higher degrees of cruelty. Thus, the incident and the image complement each other to deliver the theme of in- hiimanity resulting from business ambition. The very title of Wolfe's last novel is introduced as a theme in one of the most unforgettable passages in the book. George is on the train, bound for Libya Hill and Aunt Maw's funeral, when he meets blind Judge Rumford Bland, of Libya Hill. Ironically, the judge, blinded from syphilis and disrespected by the community, is able to see the thoughts and motives of his townsmen. He sees the hope that young George has, the hope that he may be able to 45 find new strength by going back home. "And do you think you can go home again?" he asks. George asks his meaning, and Judge Bland replies, "I mean, do you think you can oo really go home again?" Later, the words of Judge Bland are echoed as George stands at his aunt's grave before departure, reflecting upon v/hat he has learned since he has arrived in Libya Hill. He sees the blind craze of the townspeople in their rush to make extravagant invest­ ments. He sees the narrow opinions and the disregard for people, and he knows that he will never feel at home in Libya Hill again. Because the themes of Wolfe's last novel are so thoroughly incorporated into the v/riting of episodes and of images, and because V/olfe died before he was able to reorganize his last works, there should be less emphasis upon the necessity of Asv/ell's organization of the material. Rather, more attention should be given to the development of various elements of V/olfe's v/ritings into a stylized medium for his message. In "The Face of the War," Mr, Wolfe uses four episodes in succession to depict the heat of August and the brutality of men. This purpose is suggested in the first sentence of the story: "Heat-brutal August the year the war ended: Sq here are four moments from the face of the war," ^ The four "moments" are sraall stories v/ithin themselves, each 46

of which shows some aspect brought out in men by uncomfort­ able weather and by war. In the first scene, for example, an overseer brutally beats the head of a Negro worker, while the latter can defend himself only by raising his arms. Another scene finds the men in a shipping port manifesting a savage lust, as they stand in line at a house of ill-repute. They protest loudly when one of the \ girls occupies a room too long, for she is so overworked that she cannot stand up. At another place an officious

Bfe^^^^iiiii! •i^f.... man uses his authority as a watchman to frighten some boys. • .;

In the last scene, a frustrated officer stands outside on ^^^uiiuuiiuuuui 11 a hot day, trying to make some serablance of order out of • • a regiment of Negro soldiers frora Texas. The impression i of the harsh reaction of men to the heat of August and 1 to the heat of the war relies solely upon a series of four episodes. In considering the themes of Wolfe's writings, it becomes apparent that V/olfe truly did base his conclusions upon experience. Therefore, the logical way to present those conclusions is to write about convincing experiences. Thus, in his early writing, Wolfe was able to capture the spell of growing up through Eugene's initial experiences. As he matured, his writing became ordered according to the more mature discoveries of George Webber. mmmmm immmmmm ^"",v,v,v,v,v,v,',r

CHAPTER V

THE EPISODE AND HUMOR

After Thomas Wolfe's death. Maxwell Perkins wrote of him: "He was totally without a sense of humor, many said, but there never was a more humorous man. ... He was without hiimor often in his writing about Eugene—though a magnificent humor pervades his writings otherwise. . . ."9 0 That one can certainly find humor in Wolfe's writings is 91 witnessed in "The Durable Humor of Look Homeward, Angel."^ In this study, Mr. McElderry chooses some delightful episodes to demonstrate Wolfe's wit, such as the scene in i which Gant pretends to be dying and Eliza acts concerned only about getting his purse. Humor in Wolfe's writings is not limited to the few incidents cited by McElderry, however, nor is it limited to one novel. The humorous KKkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkKi* episodes are so many that, for the sake of brevity, only a small percentage of them can be discussed at one time. One type of hiAmor found in Look Homeward, Angel is satire. The cafe scene with the doctors and the undertaker ends with Harry Tugman's verbally composing a mock society coliunn. A sense of bawdy humor is achieved through the

47 48

suggestion of questionable activities and through pimned names like "Lena Ginster" and "Ophelia Legg.-' Ben's re­ action to the parody adds to the humorous mood: Ben laughed noiselessly, and bent his pointed face into the mug again. Then, his thin arms out, extending his body sensually upward, and forcing out in a v/ide yawn the night-time accumulation of weariness, bore­ dom, and disgust, Q^ 'Oh-h-h-h my God! '^"^ A similar scene occurs while Eugene is at the uni­ versity. Some of the boys amuse themselves with a discus­ sion of history. They create names like "iEthelred the Unready," confuse the chronology and geography of events, ii and otherwise distort the facts. In these situations, one observes the comic raood in which characters entertain a 3 themselves by sharpening their wits, Soraetimes V/olfe uses a humorous episode for comic relief, especially to break the high tension among the Gants. After Ben's death at four o'clock in the morning, the family goes dov\'nstairs, Luke starts looking for some­ thing to feed Eugene and teases Eliza about her cooking, calling her "Miss Eliza." The children break into laughter. "Eugene picked up a coffee-pot half-filled with a cold weak wash, and sniffed at it. 'By God!' he said, 'That's one thing Ben's out of. He won't have to drink mama's coffee any more.'"^ Again, there is laughter; and so the family is able to relax a little, now that the long ordeal is over. 49

The tension mounts, and then breaks, after the family comes home and finds Eugene drunk. Luke is quite indignant, as he shouts, "Have you no pride? Have you no honor? Has it come to this?" Eugene's helpless answer causes laughter: He could not fashion words, but he could make sounds, ironically, in the rhythm of his brother's moralizing. 'Tuh-tuh-tuh-tuh! Tuii- tuh-tuh-tuh! . Tuh-tuh-tuh-tuJi! ' he said, with accurate mimicry, , , , Have you no this? Have you no that? ... he was cradled in their rhythm. No, ma'am. V/e've run out of honor to-day, but we have a nice fresh lot of self-respect,95 Immediately afterward, Eugene is sick. Eliza arrives v/ith her wide-eyed suspicion: "Hah? Huh? What is it?" Eugene ; I' 1 looks up: "He grinned feebly at her, tickled, above his • • I m ' nausea and grief, at the palpable assumption of blind in- i, nocence which always heralded her discoveries. Seeing her ^i thus, they all laughed."-^96 Even though the whole family is concerned about Eugene's drinking, no one can resist laughter over the behavior of Eugene and the typical re­ sponse of Eliza. Wolfe sometimes finds humor in particular occassions such as the Shakespearean pageant,-9^7 The sight of Eugene in his ill-fitted costume, which vaguely represents Prince Hal, is one source of laughter. The recognition given commercial sponsors offers a bit of drollery, as when the Buick agency is designated "the chariots of Oxus and of Ind," As the children representing the different religious 50 denominations march across the stage, the background hymn of "Onward, Christian Soldiers" playing for the Jewish children brings a laugh. Throughout the pageant, the townspeople are amused to see familiar figures clad in strange costumes and surrounded by even stranger language.

A short story which exploits the humorous possibilities of a specific occassion is "In the Park." The theological arg-ument between two priests. Father Dolan and Father O'Rourke, occurs in a restaurant scene. Because it is nearly midnight, and they must celebrate mass the next day, the two find themselves limited on time. Father O'Rourke eats, because that is what he likes best; and Father Dolan a ; talks, because that is what he likes best. The conflict a i occurs when Father O'Rourke urges Father Dolan to eat. 3 The one speaks of the sin of gluttony, while the other de­ cries the sin of waste in a world of starvation. Father Dolan has the last say, as he very humorously, yet very adequately, points out Father O'Rourke's erroneous logic: 'V/ell, ' said Father Dolan, 'I've read most of the argyments of the learned reasoners of the Church, as well as the damnable heresies of the infidels, all the way from St, Thomas Aquinas to Spinozey, an' in me young days I could split a hair meself wit the best of them, but in all rae life I niver heard the beat of that one: it makes Aristotle look like Words­ worth's Idiot Boy. Bedad, if ye can prOve that what ye're doin' wit yer gorgin' is feedin' the poor all over the earth, I won't put anything past yer powers of reasonin', Chris—ye could show the Pope that Darwin was a Jesuit, an' he'd be­ lieve ye!'98 51

The folly and the wit of these two men of the cloth are revealed in this situation because of the human inclination Kfmfmfff'". of a character to defend his own actions. K^P Still another episode renders a humorous effect because of distinguishing circumstances. An irate officer in "The Pace of the V/ar" has a difficult time because his black troops still cling to the traditional Southern black-white relationship. The manner of address, the utter dependence, the irresponsible and haphazard behavior of his men in­ furiate the white officer. Observe the case in which a man requests help: •Boss?' •Don't call me Boss!' in a high, choking, almost strangled gurgle. 'You dumb son-of-a- bitch, how often have I got to tell you not to call me BOSS!' he yells. 'I know. Boss—' in a plaintive tone—'but

my belt-buckle's busted. Is you got a piece of inn; string?' III'" mil 'A piece of string!' he chokes. 'Why you lUUUi. 1.1.1.1.1.1.1.1.1. damned'^-you—you—a piece of string!' he squeaks, and finally defeated, he takes off his cap, I'I'I'I'I'I'I'I'I'I'I'I'I'I'I'I'11 throws it on the floor and, sobbing, stamps upon >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> it.99 The thwarted man tries to prepare his regiment to be shipped overseas while playing nursemaid to them. Because of their total dependence, he finds himself giving in to their re­ quests. For example, some of the men who had been treated for venereal disease beg not to be left behind: "We want to go to Prance wheah you is! . . . We'll do anything you say if you^ll jest take us along wid you!" "Boss" 52 curses them profusely, and then arranges for special physical examinations so that he can take them along. The military operation has turned into a farcical situa­ tion, v/ith the officer being forced into humoring his troops.

Some of the humor in Look Homev/ard, Angel has an ironic twist, such as the time the university professor outraaneuvers himself. Hov/ever, this ironic trend is more fully developed and more prevalent in You Can't Go Home Again. The type of humor used corresponds to the personality of a character. For example, the guests at the Jack's party are supposedly very sophisticated; and yet, their party jokes and cocktail conversation reveal the superficiality aa of the upper class of Nev/ York. One of the ladies, Miss r Mandell, is quite skilled in appearing intelligent. She ambles over to a guest and asks if he has read anything by "a raan named ," dropping the name of the raost recently fashionable author. After listening to the reply, she leaves the fellow with a feeling of inadequacy by raut- tering, "Urn." However, she finds Mr. Samuel Fetzer her better in the game of appearing clever, when she asks him, "Did you ever read anything by a man named Beddoes?" Mr. Fetzer fairly overwhelms her with his enthusiastic praise: 53

'Oh, Beddoes!* The name rang out with such explosive enthusiasm that Miss Mandell re­ coiled as if someone had thrown a lighted firecracker at her feet, 'Beddoes!' he chortled. 'Beddoes!'—he smacked his lips. 'Kah-hah-hah! Beddoes!'—he cast back his head, shook it, and chuckled gloatingly. Then he told her about Beddoes' birth, about his life, about his death, about his family and his friends , , , about things that were v/ell knov/n about Beddoes, about other things that no one in the world except Mr, Samuel-.^^ Fetzer had ever knov.n about Beddoes, , . . Because Mr. Fetzer does not really say anything about the writing of Beddoes, and because of his enthusiasm over the name and the man. Miss Mandell's customary riposte is in­ effective. She has made herself appear more foolish than Mr. Fetzer, The meeting between George and Mr, Katamoto, "The ? Microscopic Gentleman from Japan," offers a simple kind of humor in the oriental vein. The small man gleefully admonishes the tall hero with: "You are tramp-ling!" George cannot understand until the small man invites him in for tea. He sees the bed on a raised platform directly under the place where he paces when he works at night. George still must be reminded; yet the two men grow fond

of each other: [Mr, Katamoto] was never angry, he v/as always patient and good-humored, he was always beautifully courteous—but he would always call George to account. 'You were tramp-ling!' he would cry. 'Last night—again—tramp-ling!' And George would tell hira he v/as sorry and 54

would try not to do it again, and Katamoto would go away giggling, pausing to turn and wag his finger roguishly and call out once more, 'Trampling!'—after which he would flee downstairs shrieking with laughter. They were good friends.102 Besides Irish priests, Negro soldiers, and Japanese neighbors, Wolfe wrote about people of many other national, ethnic, and professional backgrounds. Like George, he made friends with them, and he enjoyed the characteristics about them that seem amusing toraost people . It may be recalled that Mrs. Purvis has funny little British ways like remembering dogs better than their masters. The English friend in the country is delighted to help McHarg, since he is "merely desperately ill," and not "sick" (nauseated). ^ One memorable character comes from the Brooklyn sec­ tion. Mr. Marple is a neighbor of George's, who is an amateur at many things and fancies himself an expert at most things. On top of that, he is very blunt, yet very afraid he might offend George; so when he introduces him­ self, he says: I'm interested in youman nature—I'm a great student of psychology—I can read faces the minute I look at a guy—it's soraethin' that I always had—I guess that's why I'm in the insurance game. So when I sees a guy that interests me I wanta get acquainted wit' him an* get his reactions to things. So when I sees your light I says to myself, he may tell me to get the hell outa there but there ain't no harm in tryin'.''^^ \m^$m

55

Instead of guessing what George's profession is, he asks him. Mr. Marple is apparently surprised at George's answer:

"A what?" He recovers nicely, however, by telling George %%%f.'.--- that he had predicted that it was some kind of "intelleck- shul work." Thomas Wolfe, then, laughs at the self-conscious ego of the Yankee just as much as he does at the quirks of any person from another background. Whoever the people were, V/olfe liked them and wrote about them because he thought they should be written about.

^ His experiences with the people offered an endless supply '^^•i.% *y- \%M' of anecdotes. These anecdotes v/ere V/olfe's way of reveal­ ing the light side of "youman nature." H<

11. 11111

^ JX£, ^iftl^^ftl^^'

' 4 4 4 4 M

CHAPTER VI

CONCLUSION

In the past, too little attention has been given to the episode as a narrative \mit in the writings of Thomas Wolfe. Critics have mentioned the episode as a unit of

only secondary importance among the eleraents in his writ­ «».';.'.•-.•' ing. However, in making a point, they frequently refer to particular incidents for evidence. McElderry's article especially relies upon different episodes to demonstrate humor in Look Homeward, Angel. His recognition of the importance of the episode is helpful, though indirect. Both editors, Maxwell Perkins and Edward Aswell, mention m the episode occassionally in connection with the editing of Wolfe's manuscripts. Yet, neither left a single adequate discussion of the episode as a major fictional device. Since so little mention of this significant element has been made, it has been deemed worthwhile to produce a

56 » 57

.iiii-tt pTsff**"- delineation. A character is revealed to the reader through brief scenes in which one may observe the speech and actions of the character. Because of these life-like experiences, hV*^ Wolfe's characters are quite vivid. In comparing the earlier character portrayals with the later ones, the student can see that the first ones are more actual, while the later ones result from a more selective and refined style of writing. Nevertheless, all of V/olfe's characters are clearly represented when they can be observed in short, life-like episodes.

The particular situation is so easily adapted to the episode as a unit that the same one with a little variation appears a number of times in V/olfe's works. These situa­ I tional .pieces of writing are especially memorable because of the general interest surrounding a type of circumstance, such as departure at a train station. The episode lends m^^ a unique flavor, however, to a variation of the train scene, like a family leaving town as only the Gants would. m The episodes in Look Homeward, Angel are centered aro\md the growing-up process of Eugene. By quantity, the episodes dealing with Eugene's development and initia­ tion experiences give unity to the novel by providing the dominant theme. You Can't Go Home Again deals in a number of sub-themes, as the artist-hero strives toward a creed. 11 ,ij These themes are revealed in connection with George's rrrfwrrw

58 moral quest through episodes which are often linked with meaningful images. The episode not only makes V/olfe's fiction vivid, but also adds depth and \mity to his works by supporting themes.

Setting and raood are usually created, or at least enhanced, by means of the episode. Since the humorous vein of Wolfe's literature is often overlooked, the humorous mood is a profitable one to consider. The satire, comic relief, and anecdotal scenes add spice and human interest for the reader. V/olfe's humor is closely related to his love for people. While he is laughing, he is say­ XKh "i''" ing: "... I think these people are ^reat people and that they should be told about." ^ He uses life-like incidents to reveal this humor, just as he does to portray any given character. I (i ii Since the episode is such a vital component of Wolfe's narrative, it follows that concentration upon the incident « as a unit can offer insight into Wolfe's style of writing and into the meaning of the content. In the earlier h h li < \f\f\f\f' I It ii It It it it i; I IRfi!. period, Wolfe's poetic prose becomes less of a "barbaric \ \ VIU >< i yawp" and more like a meaningful comment when viewed in I'll connection with the episode. For example, the repeated phrase, "a stone, a leaf, a door," becomes more meaningful after one witnesses the developmental experiences of Eugene. All during the novel, he has sustained a series 59

?•#?¥!>• of initiations. The final dream-like episode reveals that Eugene has been searching for himself outside of himself, for he asks, "Where is the world?" He has been 1^ searching \mder a stone, over a leaf, behind a door. Finally, he realizes that these are the v/rong places to look, for his brother, Ben, says: "Nowhere. You are m your world," In Wolfe's last works, the mature artist emerges, for he is writing for all man-kind, rather than for his own subjective interests. In the December before he died, 4ii WJltx*x he wrote to Edv/ard Aswell about his unpublished work: "I can only tell you that it is a kind of fable, constructed out of the materials of experience and reality, and permit- I •l ting me, I hope, a more whole and thorough use of them I than I have had before. The book belongs in kind with those books which have described the adventures of the m average man—by this I mean the naturally innocent man, \-\- 107 every mother's son of us—through life." The last works of Wolfe reveal a change from the provincial, personal level, to the cosmopolitan, universal level. Wolfe's episodes show his concern for all people— ml- for different classes, races, nationalities. He is con- cemed with age-old problems, like the quest for fame and man's inhumanity to man. These themes, and Wolfe's 11 ^ .-!• ,- development toward them, can be understood adequately, if I i i i : :

( W^'

60

one studies them from the point of view that Wolfe's major writing device is the episode as a narrative laiit, and that any change in his v/riting can be observed in rela­

. -^'w-w -r tion to the way he uses the episode. In conclusion, let us say that the episode is such an important device of Wolfe's writing technique, that any study of his works can be strengthened through a concentration upon the episode as a narrative unit.

I • I f^:

NOTES 1 Bernard De Voto, "Genius Is Not Enough," Saturday Review of Literature, XIII (April 25, 1936), j>.~. 2 Richard Walser, "Thomas Wolfe: An Introduction and Interpretation," Thomas V/olfe, Three Decades of Criticism, ed. Leslie A Field (New York: New York University Press. 1968), p. 181. ^ » "^Maxwell Perkins, ed.. Look Homeward. Angel (New York: New York University Press, 196a), p. lBi. ^Edward C. Aswell, "A Note on Thomas V/olfe," The World of Thomas Wolfe, ed. C. Hugh Holman (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1962), p. 46. ^Ibid., p. 47. Thomas Wolfe, The Story of a Novel (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 193*277 P« 17- } 7 'I 'Thomas Wolf^, The Letters of Thomas Wolfe to His ?| Mother, ed. E. Hugh Holraan and Sue Fields Ross (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press), p. 43. o Bruce R. McElderry, Jr., "The Durable Humor of Look Homeward, Angel," Arizona Quarterly, XI (Summer, 195577 pp. 123-28. %olfe. The Story of a Novel, p. 21. •Maxwell Perkins, 0£. cit., pp. x-xi. 11 Foxhall Edwards is the fictional name which refers to Maxwell Perkins. 12Perkins , o£. cit., pp. xiv-xv. -'Thomas Y/olfe, Look Homeward, Angel, ed. Maxwell Perkins (New York: Charles Scribner's.Sons, 1952), p. 71. ^^Ibid.. p. 81.

61 62

15Ibid. , pp. 50-51. 16Ibid. , p. 40. 17Ibid. , p. 106. 18Ibid . 19Ibid. , p. 74, 20Ibid. , pp. 294-95. 21 Ibid., p. 392. 22 Wolfe, Letters to His Mother, p. 43. •%olfe. Look Homeward, Angel, pp. 26-27. 24- Ibid., p. 65. 25 Ibid., p. 66. 26 Ibid., p. 8. 27Ibid. , p. 11. ^^Ibid., p. 40. ^%bid., p. 81. ^^Ibid., p. 82. 31 Ibid. 32Ibid. , p. 54. ^^Ibid., p. 239. 34Ibid.. , p. 240. 35Ibid . _- ^^Ibid., p. 421. 37 -''Thomas Wolfe,. You Can't Go Home Again (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1940), p. 132. ^^Ibid., p, 138,

W)&;'k. 63

39Ibid. , p. 516. 40 Ibid., pp. 528-29. V/olfe, Look Homeward, Angel, p. 54. ^^Ibid., p. 636. 'Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again, p. 48. 44Ibid. , p. 49. 45Ibid. , p. 661. Thomas V/olfe, "Dark in the Forest, Strange as Time," From Death to Morning (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 19^), pp. 9H-II3-113.. 47Ibi d p. 100. 48 Ibid p. 103. 49Ibi d ^Solf Look Homeward, Angel, p. 232. if I 51Ibi d p. 337. 52 Ibid p. 424. 53Ibi d p. 427. 54Ibi d

55Ibi d p. 192. - 5^Ibid p. 193. ^'^Ibid

^^Ibid p. 151. 5%bid p. 151. 60 Ibid p. 163. 61 Ibid p. 447. 64

Perkins refers to this episode as a night scene. Perhaps he v/ould have called it a morning scene if he had lived to revise his essay, for V/olfe refers to the dav/n light throughout the passage. •^Wolfe, Look Homeward, Angel, p. 186. ^^Ibid., p. 187- ^^Ibid., p. 585. ^^Ibid., p. 588. ^^Ibid., p. 606. ^^Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again, p. 96. 50 -^Wolfe, Look Homeward, Angel, p. 610. '^^Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again, p. 102. 71 V/alser, in Three Decades of Criticism, p. I8I. 72 ' Kichard S. Kennedy, "V/olfe's Look Homev/ard, Angel as a Novel of Development," Thomas V/olfel ^hree Decades 1 » of Criticism, ed. Leslie A. Field (New York: New York ; University Press, 1968), p. 197. '•^Wolfe, Look Homeward, Angel, p. 90. '^'^Ibid., p. 252. ^^Ibid., p. 533. '^^Ibid., p. 317. ^^Ibid. rjO ' Kennedy, jO£. cit. '%olfe. Look Homeward, Angel, p. 525. ^^Ibid. ^^Ibid., p. 375. ^^Ibid., p. 378. ^^Ibid., p. 661. .tililililililiiJ •

65

84.'Clyd e C, Clements, Jr., "Symbolic Patterns in You Can't Go Home Again," Modern Fiction Studies. XI (Autumn, TgS57,"ppT-?g4^^?g6T • m 85Wolfe , You Can't Go Home Again, p. 592. 86Ibid. , p. 598. 87Ibid. , pp. 139-40. 88Ibid. , p. 83. 89Wolfe , "The Pace of the V/ar," Frora Death to Morning, i'i'' p. 71. ^Maxwell Perkins, "Scribner's and Tora Wolfe," Caro­ lina Magazine, LXVIII (October, 1938), p. 17. 91McElderry , ££. cit. 92Wolf e Look Horaeward^ Angel, p. I90. 93Ibid . p. 517. 94Ibid . p. 592. 95Ibid . p. 528. 96 Ibid. p. 529. 97Ibid . p. 395,ff. m 98Wolf e "In the Park," From Death to Morning, p. 173 ^\olfe "The Pace of the V/ar," p. 88. 100Ibid . p. 89. ^O^Volfe You Can't Go Home Again, p. 269. 102 Ibid. p. 31. 103Ibid . p. 598. 104Ibid . p. 402. m\'\ > ^^^Maxwell Perkins, ed.. Look Homeward, Angel, p. xi. •m$. 66

106 k "^3 "^5 "^3 "'j " V/olfe, Look Homeward, Angel, p. 661. [-4^ 107 f : 'Wolfe, in a letter. Quoted by Edward C. Aswell, "Thomas Wolfe's Unpublished works," Carolina Magazine (October, 1938), p. 20.

'^'ji- -I-

^1 'I 'I 'I

;i i . BIBLIOGRAPHY

Aswell, Edward C. "A Note on Thomas V/olfe." The World of Thomas Wolfe. Edited by Hugh C. Holman. "¥ew York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1962. 45-48. "Thomas Wolfe's Unpublished Works," Carolina Magazine. XLVIII (Oct. 1938), 19-20. Clements, Clyde C. "Symbolic Patterns in You Can't Go Home Again," Modern Fiction Studies, XI (Autumn, 1965), 2»6-9b. De Voto, Bernard. "Genius Is Not Enough," Saturday Review of Literature, XIII (April 25, 1936), 3-4, 14-15^ ~ Field, Leslie A., ed. Thomas Wolfe: Three Decades of Criticism. New York: New York University Press, 1968. Holman, C. Hugh and Ross, Sue Fields, ed* The Letters of Thomas Wolfe to His Mother. Chapel Hill: The Univer­ sity of North Carolina Press, 1968. Holman, C. Hugh, ed. The V/orld of Thomas- V/olfe. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 19^. Kennedy, Richard S. "Wolfe's Look Homeward, Angel as a Novel of Development." Thomas Wolfe: Three Decades of Criticism. Edited by Leslie A. Field. New York: New York University Press, 1968, 195-203. McElderry, Bruce R., Jr. "The Durable Humor of Look Homeward, Angel." Arizona Quarterly, XI (Summer, 195577^23-26. Perkins, Maxwell. "Scribner's and Thomas V/olfe," Carolina Magazine. XLVIII (Oct. 1938), 15-17. Walser, Richard. "Thomas Wolfe: An Introduction and Interpretation." Thomas Y/olfe: Three Decades of Criticism. Edited by Leslie A. Field. New York: New York University Press, 1968, 181-86. Watkins, Floyd C. "Rhetoric in Southern Writing: Wolfe," Georgia Review. XII (Spring, 1958), 79-89.

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Wolfe, Thomas. From Death to Morning. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1963. Look Homeward, Angel. Edited by Maxwell Perkins New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1952. The Stcry of a Novel. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1936. You Can't Go Home Again. Nev/ York: Harper & Brothers, 1940.

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