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The Art of Biography
By Mahala Yates Stripling, PhD
This six-part series was first published in
The Independent
Scholar, Vol. 21.2 (Summer 2007) to Vol.22.3 (Fall
2009), a publication of the National Coalition of
Independent Scholars. It describes my work in-progress,
The Surgeon
Storyteller, a literary biography of Richard Selzer.
It contains: "Overview and Getting Started," "Focus and
Foreword," "The Interview," "Authorial Tone," "Love
Letters," and "The End Game Strategy–Design Matters &
The Author-Publisher Partnership." The series derives
from my conference presentations and university lectures
given over a ten-year period and was written in real
time, showing how I addressed particular issues as they
came up.
* * * *
1. Overview and Getting Started
Thinking about writing a biography? My first advice
is, choose your subject wisely. For you will be living
with him or her for a long time. The biographer David
McCullough started working on Pablo Picasso, and two
years later he abandoned the project, saying he found
Picasso’s personal life too repellent and his story
uninteresting, with too few personal struggles. He
commented that choosing a biographical subject was like
finding a roommate: "You’re better off with someone you
like." On the average, biographers will spend four years
researching, four writing, and then two promoting all of
their hard work. When the subject is living, as mine is,
there are added concerns, but it may be more interesting
as well.
Find your subject: I first was acquainted with my
subject, Dr. Richard Selzer, a Yale surgeon-writer, when
I read his cross-over book,
Mortal Lessons
in 1976. I approached him about compiling a bibliography
on him, which was subsequently published in
The Bulletin of
Bibliography in 1990. I followed that with master’s
(1993) and doctoral work (1997). I have been in touch
with him all throughout these years. So it seemed a
natural progression to move forward with a biography.
But when I asked him in 1998 about writing one on him,
at first he said he was "unworthy" and that his life had
already been revealed in his writings, making it "an
open book." In fact, his eleven books of short stories,
essays, and memoirs are a valuable resource, but they
are literary (read: partly made up). Sorting fact from
fiction makes a biographer’s job doubly hard. But while
these jumbled writings confuse chronological order, they
show Selzer’s brilliance, humility, and imagination.
Undeterred, and not realizing the full extent of the
above, I pressed on and at last he consented. I had my
work cut out for me.
Define subject’s merit: Why is Richard Selzer (b.
1928) an important subject worthy of so much of my time
and effort? He is a renowned doctor-writer often
mentioned in the same breath with John Keats, Anton
Chekhov, and William Carlos Williams. This is his first
full-length biography. Following in his literary
ancestors’ footsteps, he was among the first
contemporary physicians to understand the power within
medicine of writing and reading fiction. His work
influenced other writers, and the new
literature-and-medicine movement was born, transforming
medical education. It recognized that which it can only
get from the humanities and particularly from
literature. His works are integral to the canon of
literature and medicine. Furthermore, Selzer’s attempts
"to make art" in the midst of a busy surgical career are
interesting—his road hasn’t been an easy one to walk. At
first mainstream medical thinking viewed his poetic
prose and humanistic thinking as warm and fuzzy and
useless—compared to the teachings of the hard sciences.
His colleagues wouldn’t sit with him at lunch in the
Yale-New Haven Hospital cafeteria, fearing that as he
wrote he was "telling the secrets of the priesthood."
They were right, he did. But their early resistance has
shifted, and now these same people consider Selzer their
spokesman, and three-quarters of medical schools now
teach literature. His work broaches controversial topics
like mercy killing, organ transplantation, and abortion.
Important issues appearing in Selzer’s work include: how
doctors may feel inadequate—like impostors—with fears
and trepidations just like the rest of us; how doctors
may hate a patient and have to overcome their feelings
of revulsion to adequately treat him; and how doctors
have to carefully approach writing about their patients
because they may be breaching doctor-patient
confidentiality.
Identify your sources: The bibliography I had
compiled gave me a leg up; I was started. Also, the
face-to-face interview I conducted with Selzer at his
home in New Haven, CT. in 1992 for my master’s work set
a foundation. From 1998 on I have interviewed him in
person every year. To prepare for interviews, I read
ongoing publications on him, which tender valuable facts
and let Selzer spin stories. In 1998 a Selzer Archive
was established at the University of Texas Medical
Branch-Galveston, so I made several visits to look
through boxes and boxes of letters, diaries, and drafts,
using my scanner to copy onto my laptop. The archive is
being continually added to. Over the last eight years I
have conducted telephone and personal interviews with
over 100 Selzer intimates, acquaintances, and family
members (some were not forthcoming) for corroboration
and alternative perspectives. I augmented all of these
compelling accounts with facts and ideas gleaned from
numerous book reviews and critical pieces.
State your problems: Setting out, you can’t possibly
know all the problems you will have to deal with. My
main problem was to put the events of Selzer’s life in
chronological order, thereby squaring away some facts. I
was able to show what contributed to his becoming a
surgeon first and then a writer. As an added bonus, as I
researched each stage of Selzer’s life I felt the
pleasure of getting to know, all over again, the mind
that created some of my favorite writings. I felt sorrow
when a grandson was born with birth defects. I also
experienced joy when he was named runner-up for the
prestigious Pen-Faulkner prize. But no matter how
exhaustively I researched, I came to realize that some
things are unknowable. Like most people, Selzer’s
memories, self-styled as "gap-toothed," can be sharp and
focused or foggy. But when he’s in storyteller’s mode he
comes to life.
Set your objectives: My objectives, which evolved,
became fourfold: I connect Selzer’s works to his life
experiences, showing how his imagination flies; I
comment on his themes and styles; I explicate his role
in balancing the technological outlook of medicine with
empathy for patients; and I establish his significance
in the evolving canon of literature and medicine.
Know personal challenges: Because of Selzer’s
accessibility, I admit to being a bit of a sycophant
when I first started this project ten years ago.
Anything I wrote on Saint Selzer at that point would
have turned into a Boswellian hagiography. Fortunately
that honeymoon phase was replaced with a biographer’s
objective realism. Other qualities desirable in a
biographer are an obsessive tendency and inbred
patience. These are necessary to keep focus and
follow-through.
Expect this next: In part 2, I discuss the many hats
I wear and the team I have built (one got me out of
trouble). I explain how I research and record historical
events, retell stories, and find parallels and use examples. I show the
importance of keeping heads-up throughout the process to
avoid the quicksand of ethical dilemmas. At last, I show
you how I test my product.
Here are tips: To digitally organize your material
into each chapter, create a master document. Also, to
physically organize your material (photos, drafts),
separate it into chapters laid out onto a large table or
several smaller tables. I use colorful toy bins for the
overlap.
2. Focus and Forward
More people read biography than any other kind of
genre. The biography you are currently engrossed in
tells something about who you are. And, if you are
writing a biography—and you are what you think about all
day—your biographical subject has impacted your life. [ Tell
me whose life you read. Tell me who haunts you; I will
tell you who you are—André Breton,
Nadja.] For
these reasons, I am grateful to say my subject is not
Jack the Ripper, Son of Sam, or Saddam Hussein, but
rather he’s a friendly genius named Richard Selzer (b.
1928). Nearly an octogenarian, he’s witty, kind, and
generous. A former surgeon turned author, he’s taught me
a great deal about medicine and literature—and its
history. Beyond contributing to the end-product of my
biography, he has personally enriched my life.
Get a foothold. The importance of getting an early
foothold is shown in this story the famous biographer
Richard Ellmann told his friend, Richard Selzer. "After
the huge success of his
James Joyce
(1959),
Dick Ellmann was casting about for another biographical
subject and decided upon Ezra Pound. He wrote to Pound
who was then living in Rapallo, Italy, after his release
from St. Elizabeth’s. By that time, Pound had fallen
silent and refused to utter a single word. Dick had
broached the subject of a "Life." Pound had read
Joyce, and Dick
further blandished him with a small volume of his
essays. Pound sent word for him to come, as Dick had
requested. When he arrived at the house in Rapallo,
Pound’s old mistress Olga Rudge let him in and went
upstairs to get Ezra Pound who did come down, sat in the
room with Dick, but never uttered a word. After a while,
he went back upstairs. Dick knew then that it would be
impossible. That was when he decided to write his
biography of Oscar Wilde (1988; [he worked 20 years on
this!]."
After my tentative first meeting with Selzer, I was
fortunate to get his quick turnabout. I see him at least
once a year in person, and he always gives me the names
of people to call. Of these suggested interviewees, he
opens the door, telling them, "give her the whole
unvarnished truth, warts and all." He responds to my
direct questions promptly via email. At times his
entertaining and informative answers catapult me off
into another area of interest, such as when I learned
recently that in the 1970s he befriended and
corresponded with John Irving and Erich Segal.
Travel has been a part of this work. First, I visited
his beloved homeland, Troy, New York, on the mighty
Hudson River and talked with his childhood and high
school friends, whom he had given a heads-up on. Second,
I shadowed Selzer around the Yale University campus
where during his fifty years in New Haven he has
acquired a retinue of disciples, many of whom I
interviewed. Third, I met him as he traveled around the
country to speak at Stanford University, the University
of Colorado in Denver, and the University of
Texas—Southwestern Medical Center in Dallas where I
recorded his words, observed his deeds, and interviewed
others. Officially into the project for a decade now, I
find my subject a wise choice as I recognize his broad
and lasting humanistic contributions not only to the
education and practice of medicine but to all readers
(we are all patients). For this reason, his eleven
books, beginning in 1974, have never been out of print.
To be or not to be authorized. In some cases having
the subject’s or family’s signed consent to write a
biography (indicating free and open access) can lead to
grants. However, I took another path. While I have
received Dr. Selzer’s full cooperation, this is not an
authorized biography in the sense that he will read and
approve the pre-publication manuscript. This subject
came up between us only within one context: he
understood my need not to be bound by his perspective
alone but rather, after considering all alternative
viewpoints and additional facts, to give my audience at
large the bigger story. This involved considerable trust
on his part, and, more specifically, a confidence in me
that I complete this task showing tact, truthfulness,
judgment, and the flexibility to deal creatively with
unexpected issues. On my part, I must fulfill his only
requisite that he not lose the affection of his readers.
This said, he would be embarrassed by "a puff."
Wear many hats. I wear many hats as a biographer:
first and foremost I’m a researcher, interviewer, and
storyteller. I’m also an ethicist, psychologist,
biblical scholar, and historian. I’m all of these and
more. To give you an historical example, part of the art
of biography is placing your subject within the broader
cultural currents of the times. Therefore, I go back one
hundred years to write about the hardscrabble life of
Selzer’s White Russian ancestors who emigrated to Ellis
Island during the turn of the last century. Selzer, like
Faulkner and Twain, has influences deeply rooted in his
early life. In order to elucidate this, I have also
researched the history of the Hudson Valley area—they
are a "watery people"—and talked with many Trojans. A
local person helps me immeasurably with photographs and
clippings as well as verifying facts.
Build a team. Bounty naturally flowed to me in the
form of individuals who were interested in lending their
expertise, advice and help; i.e., my team. They include
a retired linguistic professor who helped zero in on
genealogical research, a Communication’s scholar who has
read and commented on the manuscript-in-progress; an
attorney who has advised me on intellectual property
issues; and a journalist who has given me tips on
interviewing practices. If you don’t know something, ask
someone who does!
Know copyright law. Facts and ideas are not
copyrightable, only the unique expression of them. When
in doubt, careful attributions are imperative. Footnotes
keep you out of trouble. Know copyright law and get a
fundamental understanding of fair use practices. See The
Chicago
Manual of Style (the 15th
edition is
online). I also subscribe to and ask questions of
experts in an online legal forum (listserv@cni.org) .One
that comes to mind is, who owns the letters in the
Selzer Archive? The action I took was to get the signed
permission of my subject to use specific letters.
Another issue came up regarding the stories Selzer’s
tells, which, like Homer, he keeps alive through
repeated tellings. Over the years, he told the same
story to me and other interviewers on his surgical
interpretation of Jonah and the Whale, which has
appeared in several publications. An IP attorney
explained to me that, even though an earlier interviewer
might think she has copyright in this story—feeling
ownership through "the sweat of the brow theory"—that
only the aspects original to her publication are
protected by copyright. To address this issue, in my
acknowledgments I state explicitly: "Some of the stories
Selzer told others he repeated to me—at times nearly
verbatim. Unless otherwise attributed, the factual
information in this biography comes from my personal
interviews and letters or other primary documents."
Understand libel law. Legal issues are a slippery
slope that await you at every turn. To be grounded in
basic libel law, read
The New York Times
v. Sullivan re public figures (freedom of the press v. malice of forethought). It answers,
how do you steer a course toward truthfulness and
accuracy while avoiding the shoals and reefs of libel
lawsuits? Libel case law may give you concrete answers
to your specific dilemmas, but of particular concern is
a subset of defamation law called "false light/invasion
of privacy" that sets lower legal action standards. Rely
on your publishing house to put its machinery behind you
for a rigorous peer review. To avoid sandbagging, when
you feel the hint of a problem, flag it for your
editors.
There will be times that test your personal morality.
Can you live with the consequences of disclosing
intimate details of your subject’s life that could hurt
people who love and need him? In the end, the greatest
challenge might be deciding to not write about
everything you know. In a future expanded and edited
version of your biography, such material might be more
appropriate.
Test your product. To get important feedback, I
publish excerpts from my manuscript and send chapters to
readers. Recently a Stanford Emeritus Medical Professor
who was at Yale Medical School with Selzer in the 1950s,
read an early chapter and slightly corrected his
quotations. In addition, he commented that it was "a
wonderful recreation of the times." It’s just what I
wanted to hear.
Expect this next. The creative art of biography
(voice and style): set an overall tone that reflects
your relationship to the subject; decide whether to put
yourself in; create a feeling (pathos, empathy, pride)
in telling historical events and stories; use parallels
and examples.
Here are tips:
Build a
bibliography
Establish a chronology (events in the life of)
Create a genealogy (use a program like Family Tree
Maker)
3. The Interview
In the old days the writers of note died, and then
they were taken up. But in this day of ours, when time
is compressed, it happens that a writer such as myself
is taken up before he is dead. It’s awkward. It seems
that it has come out of its time—that I should have
died. And then it would be easier for everybody. But
then, on the other hand, for a person like you, you have
the singular advantage of having looked at me, talked to
me, and heard me. The biographers of yore did not have
that. But you can feel my personality and record it in
your writing. —Richard Selzer to author (1998
interview)
In 1993 Professor Betsy Colquitt, my Master’s degree
committee member, said to me, "You have a living
subject. Go interview him." That was my first interview
with Richard Selzer, Yale surgeon-writer, who is now my
biography subject. For our ninth interview, last
October, I arrived twenty minutes early for the 10 a.m.
meeting at the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library
at Yale and waited on the plaza. Selzer saw me sitting
30 yards away from the main entrance and came out to
greet me. As he gave me a hug, I noted his ribs had
healed from a January fall on the ice and that his low
vision problems did not keep him from coming out to meet
me. Chatting like old friends, we walked up to our
meeting place on the mezzanine level, just steps away
from the Gutenberg Bible, which is left open in a
display case. Selzer confirmed that the librarians turn
one page each day.
The Beinecke is a windowless six-story tower that
houses priceless old papers that would deteriorate in
direct sunlight. So its Danby marble walls transmitted a
subdued, ethereal light down upon the large round table
Selzer led me to. But there were no chairs. Almost
eighty, Selzer waved off my offer of help and went over
to a stack of heavy metal chairs and brought two back,
one at a time. He had been ill and was tired from giving
a key note address in North Carolina. But in this action
I see his habitual courtesy and the former surgeon who
maintained a schedule no matter how he felt. We sat
down, but before I could refer to my questions, Selzer
softened his eyes and said, "I want to tell you
something. I have to tell you that the older I get the
more difficult it is for me to write. Lately I’m finding
it arduous, but before I would leap to my desk and let
it flow out of me." The last time I heard these words
was in 1993, and Selzer was still recovering from a 1991
coma caused by Legionnaire’s Disease contracted on a
book tour. He feared oxygen deprivation to his brain for
those three weeks had caused his "image-maker" to fail.
But slowly his abilities came back, even if "not to the
feverish degree that existed before," he said then,
adding: "There is a certain word,
ballon, in
ballet, when the dancer makes a leap up. It's the lift
that he or she has and then seems to pause at the apex
for a second, seems to hang in the air before
descending--and that lift and pause is called
ballon. Before
my illness, I had
ballon. I could
leap and then descend. I probably lost something in that
illness. It doesn't seem to me quite so effortless. It's
as though the ballet dancer has gotten cold and
arthritic, and he can't quite make it up in the air the
way he did before. I have that feeling."
But sixteen years after his coma—and in spite of his
self-professed frailties, Selzer is still working.
Besides all of his eleven books remaining in print, Yale
University Press will publish a book of his letters and
a book of his diaries this spring. Then a novel he wrote
fifty-four years ago, when he was a 24-year-old second
year surgical resident drafted into the army and sent to
Korea, will be next. The novel, retitled
Knife/Song/Korea,
describes his work south of the demilitarized zone,
including delivering the babies of natives and
amputating legs in a country thick with landmines. He
reflects on those times: "I felt inadequate because I
had total responsibility, so to keep my sanity I decided
to keep a journal of my experience. I wrote every day
and just before I returned to the states I decided to
turn it into a novel. There was a good reason for me to
change it into fiction; I did not want to offend anyone.
For all these years I completely repressed what had been
written because it was such a difficult period in my
life. Finding the novel in the archives was a literary
incarnation. There’s a lot of curiosity about it. Just
the way it resurfaced. Even though I’m not sure it will
be to my credit, I’d like it to see the light of day.
There are still three new books coming out of this old
carcass, which is exciting because I’m 79 years old and
still functioning."
These are the words of a disciplined and resilient
man still passionate about his work. Essays, a play, and
stories will be collected into a new anthology, his 9 th
book since the
coma. I always love to hear the genesis of a new story,
and when he recounts it my ears perk up. One day he was
walking across the Green Island Bridge in his homeland,
Troy, New York, he explained, and spotted a half moon in
the sky. "I took it as a sign," he says of his new
story, "Half Moon," about Henry Hudson’s third voyage in
search of the direct route to the Indies. "Hudson came
up the great river that’s named after him. He went as
far as what is now called Troy and couldn’t go any
farther. Then I knew I must write an account of that
third voyage." He told it through the eyes of a
sixteen-year-old Dutch boy, a gifted youngster taken
from an orphanage by a childless Jewish surgeon who
wants to convert him and teach him medicine. "But he
could never accept Judaism. He just couldn’t do it. So
his mentor sent him away!" The boy went to the docks of
Amsterdam where Henry Hudson took him on board as a
cabin boy. Selzer named his hero Kees Nooteboom—after a
Dutch author he admires, Cees Nooteboom, "who helped
shape me into the kind of writer I am." Selzer read me a
passage from the story, but I will have to wait for the
publication of the obviously autobiographical piece to
learn of Kees’ fate.
As our two-hour talk wound down, Selzer’s voice was
thin but thoughtful: "I’m lucky in a way because I found
my calling in surgery and I also found my destiny in
writing. I’m very happy to have lived those two lives
and to have succeeded in both beyond my imagination. I
never expected that my writing would be read by so many
generations of medical students, nurses, and doctors all
over the world. It’s amazing to me." I felt heartened.
Although Selzer’s an obsessive stylist fearful of not
being good enough, he’s no longer refuting his merit as
a biography subject. In the end, history will determine
his stature. As we exited the building to head for
lunch, Richard Selzer showed me his sturdy wooden cane
stored in the cloak closet. His practical wife, Janet,
had triple-tied it with red yarn at its base, so he
won’t forget it. It helped Selzer with his balance after
his coma and again following last winter’s fall. But
this time he left it behind, taking my arm for the short
walk down Wall Street to Mory’s.
Notes: The Selzer Archive is at UTMB, Moody Medical
Library in Galveston. Mory’s, a restaurant at 306 York
Street, is filled with old Yale memorabilia.
Expect this next: I placed my subject in a particular
place and time to get a substantive portrait that
includes his interior life.
4. Authorial Tone
Approach your subject with a clear sense of purpose
and a strong point of view. Readers expect the truth,
warts and all. You’ve been a fact-gatherer and tried
hard to be objective. Now, paradoxically, good
storytelling requires that you appear to be in the
background while relating an attitude or opinion. Your
carefully selected words will convey the all-important
tone, in a general sense to the entire biography and in
a particular sense to each scene.
Examples of general authorial tone, given on reviews
of biographies in the
New York Times Book
Review, are: Even and respectful. Gratuitously
hostile, appearing to settle a debt. Confident, not
arrogant, with a touch of irony. Irreverent with an
often comically absurd tone. Breezy and
superior—bordering on condescending. Of uncompromising
authority. Now consider the more refined tone appearing
in "Molestation and Lapse from Faith," a scene excerpted
from my literary biography of Richard Selzer.
It was April 1941, and the small, sad boy sat alone
in the movies. Two weeks earlier his father had died
from a heart attack, at age 42, leaving the family to
sink into genteel poverty—everyone went to work. This
afternoon, seeking a brief respite from reality, even
the antics of the romantic screen duo Jeannette
MacDonald and Nelson Eddy could not pull Dickie out of
his depression. As the theater darkened, the man he
called "Father," the priest at St. Peters where he
worked, quietly sat down beside him. All of a sudden he
felt a tickle, and then sat in disbelief and terror. So
soon after his father’s death, the vulnerable boy felt
even more anguish and anxiety as the man’s fingers began
working. The molestation escalated, continuing at the
church.
The molester was known to the boys at school, who
would say "Don’t get within arm’s reach of the father."
But Dickie, a dreamer who lost himself in his books,
kept it to himself. For weeks he feared being found
out—fretting and already punctuating his life with
cigarettes. His mother was incapable of hearing such
news, and he did not tell his older brother. He sickened
at the thought of being discovered. But there on Sunday
the priest in his robes said mass and doled out the body
and the blood of Christ. Finally, Selzer says, he got
the courage "to run away from it. Fast."
Sexual abuse by a trusted father figure was the worst
thing that could have happened to the unhappy
twelve-year-old boy missing the affection of his father.
But even though he felt fear and shame at the time, today
Selzer says he decided "not to elevate it to the
satanic." He downplays his experience as "only a
happen," but his lapse from faith was secured.
Molestation was then a taboo subject, and few
molesters were prosecuted. They repeated their crimes
over and over again. Many of their young victims lost
faith in humanity, entering what psychologists call a
liminal crisis and retreating to a wasteland, including
alcoholism and promiscuity. Instead of this, Selzer
gained the ability to take life as it came, saying about
this as an adult, "We are all hiding the same things and
are only different in the carrying out of them. Can one
hate a man for taking what he desperately needed? No,
for since then I have had a few crepuscular urges of my
own." Sixty years later, perhaps in an attempt to
extricate his molestation, Selzer wrote about it in a
short story, "The Garden, The Garden." The experience
has never left him.
Did you react to this event in Selzer’s young life
with pathos, disbelief, and finally outrage at the
anachronistic view I have presented? If so, I have done
my job as a biographer by creating a sense of being
there with the subject. Using a direct authorial tone I
show how Selzer, a sensitive child, withstood
molestation at the time of his greatest vulnerability.
It did not crush his spirit; instead, he became an
empathic, caring adult. In the end, some avid biography
readers admit skipping past the dull account of the
subject’s childhood to adult-type adventures, but in
Richard Selzer’s life the stuff that makes a riveting
biography is not lacking anywhere.
5. Love Letters
One large section of my biography on Richard Selzer
derives largely from 660 pages of love letters to his
young wife. They had known each other for a few months
when he was drafted out of a Yale internship and had
spent only five days together as man and wife. These
letters, written from South Korea in 1955, give a
chronology and vivid details of his experiences setting
up a medical unit south of the demilitarized zone. They
record his emotions, from despair to hope, as he tends
to the medical needs of the Korean natives and American
soldiers. The letters tell compelling stories with
characters, location descriptions, and narrative drive,
giving the first inkling he’s a writer. He tells his
wife something new and interesting every day. In the
first letter Selzer declares his undying love then
reveals how his marital happiness is tinged with fear:
"I live for the moment of our reunion. I pray for you to
have the courage to wait—I already know I have it.
Whatever happens to us from this time on, I want you to
know forever that I have never been happier than when I
was with you. If we only have the chance. . . ."
Unreliable mail delivery—going weeks at a time without a
letter—causes fear of estrangement to build.
As the only doctor in the area, when he’s busy, he’s
very, very busy, but interludes of inactivity caused by
the bad weather create a mixture of boredom, sadness,
and yearning, all making him feel that his mind is
disintegrating. He confesses to his wife that he’s
really looking forward to his next drink. "That’s a sort
of measure of the astronomical heights to which my ennui
has soared. But there’s an amusing side, if you merely
‘open up your heart and let the sun shine in.’" It is
"their song," repeated throughout these letters,
becoming a comforting liet motiv, a thread to hold onto.
Selzer’s also poetic in expressing the hurt he feels,
both physical and emotional, at being away, and how
holding her just one more would make it all go away.
"But I wake from this reverie to remember that a
thousand tears must fall til that happens, and a
thousand love wishes must ebb away unsatisfied—the
wasted ones. Never mind, sugar. I see you in a cloud
that is passing overhead, and I waved and blew a kiss. I
can’t write about this again. Goodnight, little girl.
Dick."
There is temptation everywhere for a lonely solider
in war-ravaged South Korea. To help assuage frustrations
and the uncertainty in their lives, the soldiers spend
desirable American dollars on alcohol and sex. The
prostitution business is so good that a rambling
two-story house sprang up one mile from Seventh DivArty,
with a girl handling up to 30 customers a day. A big
sign on the outside door read: "Number One [first-class]
Intercourse." When they were forced to take the sign
down, the next day they put up another: "Number One
Laundry—formerly Number One Intercourse." Besides those
in the house, several hundred prostitutes with their
gold teeth and tight-slit skirts strolled along the
road. Whore houses sprang up in every village, and
Selzer went around taking loads of penicillin and
syringes to give everybody a jab in the rear. He was
waging a one-man war on VD and other contagious diseases
spread by prostitution. Although propositioned all day
by the girls, the madame paid him the highest
compliment, "Doc and I are like brother and sister."
Later Selzer ruminated on his situation: "That I did not
catch gonorrhea is further evidence, if any were needed,
that surgeons do not get to commit but a fraction of the
sins to which everyone else is entitled. It is so
arranged that we have neither the time nor the energy."
He does not deny temptation nor claim virtue, but merely
states logistics. This news, plus his hiring a female
assistant to help with the large number of OB cases,
made his wife uneasy. She started planning to come to
Japan to be near her husband. He responded, quickly
quashing that notion: "It is impossible and impractical.
Do you really know where I am? Yet somehow I feel that
it will always be easier for me to bear things than for
you. Seems like hardships bounce off me like rubber
balloons. But you’re such a little tiny thingamabob that
I worry over you." At their two-month anniversary,
though, the drastic changes in his life made him afraid
that they were growing old apart. "My heart is with you,
and our music is again in my ears. Sugar pie, it’s the
middle of April and there’s just one more April after
this one, to be spent here. And so many other Aprils
after that for us to be together—forever—never leaving
each other until one of us should die. I’ll never leave
you, darling. Each time I did, it would be like another
Korea."
As busy as his days were, the loneliness that came in
waves at night was inescapable. Drawing as usual on his
imagination, he conjured up his wife, then after a
fitful sleep, awoke to the reality of Korea. His letters
express that "old ache." "All I want to do is
something—anything—to take my mind off what it is always
on. It’s getting so that you grieve and daydream even
when you’re busy. Like when I was 16 and wanted
something, but I didn’t know what. By the time I get
home, I’ll be so used to repressing my desires that I’ll
go berserk in a hurry if you don’t restrain me. Oh how I
miss you—for your kiss and your touch are my dearest
memories. It makes me a winner, somehow—out of all this
game."
With infrequent radio messages and sparse phone
calls, the letters—albeit erratically spaced— kept their
relationship alive. He’s always conscious of trying to
be upbeat and newsy. A mood is easily transmissible even
across 10,000 miles, and one day in a letter she didn’t
sound okay. But he felt, "It’s nice to be able to say,
‘Well, she felt blue six days ago but probably not now.’
Anyway, buck up old girl. It won’t be too long now.
Remember our song! ‘Smilers never loose & frowners never
win.’"
The letters, a magnificent saga filled with love and
other emotions, show how contact with his wife keeps him
focused: "I’ll never get sidetracked," he assures her.
They contain many gems screenwriters would drool over,
such as "You complete me," written long before Tom
Cruise said it to Renée Zellweger in
Jerry Maguire (1996).
In each letter there’s something different that is
memorable and romantic, but toward the end of his
year-long deployment, Selzer found them tougher to write
each day. He became very ill and worn out, and the
distance seemed to grow between him and his wife. He
starts leaving out of these letters parts of his life.
Expect this next: Publication and Marketing
Note: When using archived love letters, quickly
secure permissions from the author (if possible),
especially when the letters are to mistresses and not
wives. See Meryle Secrest‘s
Shoot the Widow:
Adventures of a Biographer in Search of Her Subject
(Knopf, 2007).
6. The End Game: Design Matters & the
Author-Publisher Partnership .
After obsessively chipping away for over ten
years—far longer than most sculptors spend attacking a
large block of granite—I’ve finished part I of my
biography. In a final read-through, I’m paying close
attention to details: from each topic sentence does
there flow a captivating idea, and in looking over the
footnotes can I consolidate some, integrate others into
the body, or eliminated a few? But more importantly, I’m
scrutinizing how I dramatize Selzer’s life: he pulled
himself up by his bootstraps from a poverty-stricken
life, just as his father had, to become a famous Yale
surgeon-writer. In telling his life story, have I
engaged my reader with a carefully constructed plotline
from his birth, youth, love interests, career, family,
and into middle age? There’s the requisite sex and a lot
of romance. The suspenseful events are legion, including
a nearly Hollywood-scripted life-after-death experience.
This project has been a test of how much I understand
humanity and can explain the medical world, but it’s
also made me appreciate a life well-spent often in the
service of others. This said, I know hints of an
author’s emotionality tend to distance the reader, so,
ideally, my feelings will be buried as subtext so as not
to eclipse objectivity. This is not an "authorized"
biography, so Selzer has not looked over my shoulder
with the right of review. But he has been fully
cooperative throughout the process, saying to tell his
story "warts and all"; he only asked that he keep the
affection of his readers. Paradoxically, while it’s
necessary to show Selzer’s "grit" to make him a worthy
subject, it tests his request and our friendship.
I look across the room where my manuscript, a ream
high, sits proudly in its wicker basket, begging to see
the light of day. In submitting it to the press, I’m
continuing an author-publisher partnership that started
with my first query. I’m following the press’s website
guidelines for submission, and I’m redflagging for my
editor any areas of concern in the mss. This includes
noting questions on fair use, checking for libel/false
light issues [reputations are at stake], and
highlighting previous (redundant) scholarship where
another’s sweat-of-the brow ownership claim might pop
up. A final check on permissions, including for old
newspaper photographs, is on-going. Once the manuscript
is accepted, I’ll negotiate a contract. In lieu of an
agent, my intellectual property attorney will review
what will be a boilerplate contract with add-on clauses.
In particular, Dr. Selzer suggested to me: "Probably you
will want a publisher’s guarantee that the book will be
kept in print for a good while, say 50 years? I say
that, at the suggestion of my Yale English professor
friends who feel that my reputation will take a while to
come into its own. The feeling is that I will be around
for a good long while. I'm so pleased to hear that."
I’m not turning off my computer just yet, but it’s
time to think of marketing. I’m the expert on who the
audience is, and my book back matter directs me to it.
The acknowledgements and subject index I’m generating
help develop the market and locations for book tours, as
will the publisher’s carefully filled out author
questionnaire. On the practical side, I’ll get a press
photo and tips from a PR agent. Each audience is unique,
and I’ll adapt my talk to particular interests and
media. My first lecture on the biography, "Richard
Selzer in the Twenty-First Century," scheduled in
October, 2008, addresses the annual meeting of the
American Society for
Bioethics and Humanities. I’ll mark up a five-minute
passage from my prepublication manuscript to read.
There’s nothing to compare to an author’s reading
his/her own material. But I’ll edit this written
material, eliminating distracting clauses, descriptive
phrases, etc. that would "take out" a listening public.
A table of contents, flyers, and book order sheets will
be handouts.
A last caveat. Surely bits and pieces—descriptive
elements or an engaging quotation—will crop up, ad
infinitum, begging to be added. But at this time I’ve
place my rewriting on hold, taking the advice of a
scholarly friend: "You don’t need all the tinker toys to
play." I realize that the book won’t be thoroughly
"cooked" until after the press editor and two outside
readers have a go at it, and there’s another pass or two
of the proof to fuss over. This is my final checklist:
do I inform, entertain, and move my reader; and will
Selzer keep the affection of his readers?
Postscript: What started out to be a two-volume
biography is now one volume in two parts .
Copyright by Mahala Yates Stripling, PhD. 2013
LIST OF RECOMMENDED BIOGRAPHIES AND RESOURCES
Recommended biographies :
Bliss, Michael.
Harvey Cushing: A
Life in Surgery. (Oxford University Press, 2005).
Blotner, Joseph.
Faulkner: A
Biography. (Random House 1974)
Clarke, Gerald.
Capote: A
Biography. (Carroll & Graf Publishers, 1998.),
Churchwell, Sarah.
The Many Lives of
Marilyn Monroe (Metropolitan Books/Holt, 2005).
Mackenna, Dolores.
William Trevor: The
Writer and His Work. (New Island Books, 1999)
Massie, Robert K.
Peter the Great.
(Alfred A. Knopf, 1980).
Sewall, Richard B.
The Life of Emily
Dickinson. (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1974).
Recommended related resources:
Back-Scheider, Paula R.
Reflections on
Biography (Oxford University Press, 1999).
Casper, Scott E.
Constructing
American Lives: Biography and Culture in Nineteenth-
Century America (University of North Carolina Press,
1999).
Hamilton, Nigel.
Biography: A Brief
History (Harvard University Press, 2007).
Harrington, Walt.
Intimate
Journalism: The Art and Craft of Reporting Everyday Life
(Sage Publications, 1997).
Heilbrun, Carolyn G.
Writing a Woman's
Life (W.W. Norton, 1988; reader's-guide edition,
Ballantine, 2002).
Houghton Mifflin Dictionary of Biography. (Houghton
Mifflin 2003).
Oates, Stephen B.
Biography as High
Adventure: Life Writers Speak on Their Art
(University of Massachusetts Press, 1986)\
* Some of these books are from Steve Weinberg’s
"Biography, the Bastard Child of Academe" ( Chronicle
of Higher Education, 9 May 2008).
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