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dim, 01/15/2023 - 21:09 — ezyvubyve

When i read the alice b. Toklas cookbook eisenhower first appeared in the white apartment, and liz taylor took eddie fisher away from debbie reynolds. The book, published in 1954, was given to me by a major member of a group of pretentious young men with whom i hung out, who had nothing but an amusing contempt for narrow-minded american culture, and whose rebellion against the conformity of the minute had largely taken the form of furniture store patronage. With the name design research and writing mannered letters to each other in the manner of mannered letters of certain well-known literary homosexuals not yet known as such. The alice b. Toklas cookbook fit perfectly into the current youth program; we liked his caustic authoritarian tone, his arrogance and malice. “The french never add tabasco, ketchup or worcestershire sauce, do not eat any pickles of countless kinds, do not accompany the meat dish with radishes, olives or salted nuts,” toklas wrote, as if preparing a manifesto for us. . Her footnote de haut en bas, indicating that “a marinade is a bath of wine, herbs, oil, vegetables, vinegar, etc. Where fish or meat, used for certain dishes, rest for some days and gain strength,” filled us with ecstasy. . The cookbook itself is in a special bath of memories of the current toklas with gertrude stein, through which its own literary value flows. It's cooler than a cookbook and memoir, it's been called a work of literary modernism, a special pendant to stein's masterpiece, the autobiography of alice b. Toklas, published in 1933. Deepens the mystery of everyone who has been influenced. Did stein imitate toklas when she wrote in toklas' voice in autobiography, sometimes she invented the voice, and toklas then imitated stein's invention when she wrote the cookbook? Can't be declared. When i leaf through my copy of the cookbook, traces of ancient food stains lead me to recipes i've actually made, and there aren't too many. Them. Most of toklas' recipes were, and still are, too complicated or overly weird to be allowed to be tasted. (I did create—loving its perversity—her gigot de la clinique in which i took a large hypodermic needle and injected orange juice into a leg of lamb twice a day for a week when it was in the obligatory marinade of wine and herbs. ) And marginal descriptions also emphasize passages—such as the one above—whose pungent snot was a particular delight to me in the fifties. But there is one chapter whose catalog contains neither gravy stains nor underlinings, and whose bare purity makes it almost unread. It's called eating in bouget during the occupation, and you have toklas writing about the years of nazi occupation that she and stein spent in a provincial area of eastern france called bugey-first in a beautiful old house near belli, and then in another old premises in nearby kulo. When i happened to read this chapter a few months ago, i was as struck by its evasiveness as by its morbidly forced gaiety. How did a couple of older jewish lesbians manage to escape the nazis? Why did woodfuel stay in france but not return to the safety of the united states? Why didn't toklas mention anything about her jewishness and stein's jewishness (not to mention lesbianism)? Well, <a href="https://wallpapers4screen.com/tags/spanish%20flag">spanish flag wallpapers</a> in the fifties, no one went out of their way to say about their jewishness. Gentlemanly anti-semitism has always been a fact of american life. The fate of the european jews was known, but the period of public mourning had not yet begun. The term "holocaust" is not yet in common use. In 1954, toklas' subterfuge went as unnoticed as her recipes for forbidden veal roll and floating crawfish. Today the deviations seem blatant, though not always incomprehensible. What you are now hearing about the war between stein and toklas allows you to quickly understand why the complex reality of their circumstances and behavior did not find a zone in the alice b. Toklas cookbook. “It’s like a cookbook has something to do with writing,” toklas says of his own venture at the end of the book. Or coping, she might have added. In august 1924, on their way to the french riviera to visit picasso, stein and toklas turned onto bouge and spent the night at belly. At a hotel called the pernolle, which was recommended to them for its good food. The food was mediocre, but they liked the hotel and the countryside so much that they stayed in touch with picasso that they would stay a week and finally never get to the riviera at all. They returned to pernoll summer after summer (eating out) and in the shortest time they began to look for their own chair in the area.They were ready to buy, build or rent, but could not find anything suitable. And then one day in the valley they saw “the house of our dreams,” as gertrude stein writes in autobiography. She continues: Go and ask the farmer whose house it is, gertrude stein told me. I said, nonsense, this is a good house and it's busy. Go and ask him, she said. Very reluctantly, i did it. He said, well, yes, maybe he surrenders, it belongs to a little girl, all her people are dead, and i think that the lieutenant of the regiment stationed in belly now lives there, but i figured out that they could leave. You could go and see the property agent. We use. He became a good old farmer who always told us allez doucement, go slowly. We have done. We were promised a building that we never saw closer than across the valley as soon as the lieutenant left. Finally, three years ago, the lieutenant went to morocco, and you all took the cottage only after seeing the stretch film in view of the valley, and we always liked it better. Stein wrote "the autobiography of alice b. Toklas" in the autumn of 1932, in a special paroxysm of the desire for fame and pay, which had so far eluded her. From her youth, she wanted "fame," as her friend mabel wicks reported, but her experimental phrases did not give it. Finally, at the age of fifty-eight, she decided to (so to speak) go into prostitution and write a book in plain english that is a bestseller. All that he actually became key among them may be a measure of the genius that stein asserts about himself throughout the book. What a genius she turned out to be is hard to find. She trained as a doctor with a focus on psychology, and it wasn't until she dropped out of johns hopkins medical school in a modern course in 1901 that she began to think of writing as a path to fame. Her student work was ordinary and unpromising, rather grandiloquent. However, after she settled in paris in 1903, as if her muse had been awakened by the more invigorating air of the old world, she began to write the works for which she is known - stories, novels, plays and poems that are not like stories anywhere. , Novels, plays or poems have ever been written, but seem to be imbued with some elixir of originality. In the three stories "three lives", written in 1905, and the novel "the making of the americans", begun in 1903 and completed in 1911, stein still writes in ordinary, at least the only english, but, to 1912 functions in a personal language of its own, using english words, but in no way resembles english, as the composition is known. “Do not wrap up and subsequently forget the undertaking, credit and after the rest of that intermission, pressing the sound, in case there is no trinket does not change, there can be nice cool clothes,” she writes in “portrait of mabel”. Dodge at the villa curonia" (1912), an early foray into the language. (The supposed heroine of the portrait—a wealthy american adventuress who entertained stein and toklas in her own italian villa—was so enamored with the piece that she privately printed it and bound it in florentine wallpaper, and then handed it out to visitors in her fifth avenue apartment. ) A few years later, in delicate buttons, inspired by cubist still lifes, stein ups the ante: , from the eye - research, from selection - sick cattle. With this, the order is such that the white way to become round is something resembling a pin and is it disappointing of this kind, resolutely not, it is immediately elementary - to analyze and it is strange to see a thin substance, so it is necessary to have a green dot, not to red , but back to the point. Apple Apple plum, grain steak, shellfish with grains, colored wine, composure, cold cream, best cocktail, potatoes , potatoes and therefore not gold work with the family animal, green saw is called bake and change sweet bread, a personal piece, please, a small piece. A piece, please. Cane again to the intended and ready eucalyptus tree, count the sherry and ripe plates and sparks of this or that ham. This is the use. In a work called "acquaintance with delineation", written in 1926, the play on words takes on a graphic dimension: Let it be, when i'm sure, let will be when such a point is made by me, when the move is mine, be sure when such a step is mine, to remain confident, let it be, let it be, be sure, let it be, when it is mine of course let it be sure if it is mine let it be sure let it be sure let it be sure let it be sure definitely let it be sure let it be sure be sure, whether to be sure, let it be mine, then to be sure, let it be, to be sure, to be mine be mine, then to be sure, let it be mine, in order to be sure, to be sure when to be sure, when to be sure, in order to be sure that it will be mine. Yaza's relentless ingenuity her quirky experiments and 100% authoritarian tone have earned her significant popularity throughout the avant-garde world. But this was not enough for her - she also wanted to conquer the vast outside world. With the help of the autobiography of alice b. Toklas, she not only achieved the vulgar fame she dreamed of. But he brilliantly resolved the koan of his autobiography, disclaiming responsibility for what he had written. Speaking in the voice of her companion, gertrude stein can completely abandon the fiction of resignation that the average autobiographer must uphold at all times. “I can say that only three times in my conscious life i met a genius,” toklas says of their first date, and each time a bell rang inside me, and i was not mistaken, and i can recall that in each case it was done before, how there was any general recognition of their genius. The three geniuses to talk about are gertrude stein, pablo picasso, and alfred whitehead." She is ultimately the only one"), as well as the optimism that gives the story of her life the character of a fairy tale. Nothing shameful ever happens to her; every difficulty is overcome as if by magic. As a student at radcliffe in the late 1890s, stein, faced with an examination in the philosophy of william james, for which the porn bunny was not prepared, writes on the examination paper: “dear professor james, i am very unhappy, but in reality i am not today a little like for an examination paper in philosophy, and leaves the examination room. The next day she receives a postcard from james: “dear miss stein, i perfectly understand how you feel, i myself often feel the same way and he marks her with the highest mark according to the rules. Her whole life is like that. Picasso is going to paint her portrait, however, after eighty or ninety sessions, he says: “i never see you when i look,” irritably paints over his neck, and leaves for the holidays in spain. On his return, he draws a face from memory and carries the famous portrait to stein like a mask. Or how stein and toklas came to volunteer during world war i, delivering supplies to regional french hospitals (a job for which they were rewarded by the french government): which the american woman was traveling, even in the car it was said: "american fund for the french wounded." . . . We approached and spoke with an american woman, and at the end we interviewed mrs. Lathrop, the head of the organization. She was enthusiastic, she was absolutely enthusiastic and said: buy a car. But where, we asked. She said about which one from the usa. However, as we said. Ask anyone, she said, and gertrude stein wondered, she asked her cousin, and after more than one month a ford car arrived. A climactic example of an apparent inability to function: in case of ever saying "no" to gertrude stein. But the story doesn't end there. About four years after finishing publishing the autobiography of alice b. Toklas, stein published the following autobiography, titled the universal autobiography. Their intention was to replicate the success of the bestseller and redeem it. Naturally, only the second was completed. For which, in stein's opinion, the new apartment should have redeemed itself, it was the place of the straight-forward narrative of the autobiography of alice b. Toklas, which she adopted simply to intrigue the ordinary reader of admirers and which did not at all suit her style. The idea this time was not to turn life into a narrative of joyous and triumphant fantasy fulfillment, but to present it in all its subtle ambiguity.In the universal autobiography, stein again tells the story of acquiring a dream home, but now it's a confession of misbehavior. The house fell into the hands of stein and toklas for a reason. They made a ruthless effort to wrest it from the lieutenants, who seem to have more to do with the wild practices of twenty-first-century new york real estate than civilized twentieth-century literary history. Stein begins his story with his typical indirectness: The current tenant was a lieutenant during the war, and since he was in the garrison in belly, they can find a battalion of moroccan troops there, it’s strange to see these native troops in the mountainous french countryside. A strange use of the word, natives always mean citizens who belong somewhere else, for until recently they roughly belonged. This shows that the white race does not really care that they belong somewhere, due to the fact that the images consider others to be the original inhabitants. Be that as it may, the lieutenant who was in the house which we saw across the valley, and which we were compelled to have, was in the belly garrison. . . . Why everyone said that the player will not make him a captain, then he needs to leave, since the garrison does not have portals for another captain. We wondered what a great idea is. . . . Well, we know the man - he's a good man, they call him george. . . . In what circumstances he served in the military, he became a clerk in the military department. He told how anyone, even a general, came and asked if something could be done for a partner quickly. . . . George is gone and after ten weeks of waiting, where you look alarmed, although you don't ask problems and the risk mysteriously said wait, he came and said that i have bad news for you, demonstrate, on war that using the services of a lieutenant, his use is not very suitable, he is a military lieutenant and should not continue to take exams, and as a captain he is not at all suitable, and, among other things, upon retirement he will have to pay a captain's pension and in the modern world after 2- 3 years later he will retire and they will only have to pay him a pension as a lieutenant, but said george, maybe he is able to go to morocco, which would be attractive to him, he would receive a lot of funds for a real vacancy that would leave the house free . . . . A month after the owner wrote that the lieutenant was straying to morocco and able to sublease the house to us. In the alice b. The promotion of a lieutenant to captain, however, by nature confirms stein's version. What actually happened remains unclear. Stein and toklas' unrepentant confession that they pushed the lieutenant (or captain) out of the room sounds plausible, but full of holes. It raises more problems than it provides answers. Expatriate writer and editor elliot paul, in his personal book understanding the french (1954), offers an instructive, if rather extreme, example of what happened to historical accounts, they don't add up: they're rewritten to match. Paul defiantly takes stein and toklas' story of the meshuggen and turns it into a believable narrative: It was 4 miles from belly where gertrude stein had a country residence, a result that she so strongly wanted, before she could buy the deal, in that she went to the war secretary himself to prepare the ground for the deal. The house was occupied by a major [alternate promotion] who was overlooked twice or thrice for whatever reason when the promotion was given. The major would not have sold his house for any price if the concrete had not been promoted to lieutenant colonel so that they would not be transferred to north africa. Gertrude, along with alice toklas, drove an ambulance so heroically in the first world war that she was glorified and rewarded by the same minister of war, who was still in her post when she coveted the major's small house. Gertrude, always a woman of direct steps in the highest echelons of power, went directly to the secretary and asked him to arrange a promotion for the major, which he embodied. Stein, of course, never graduated from the minister of war, and she did not buy the house - it was not for sale, moreover, for renting out. Paul's statement about the major's refusal to sell unless he was promoted and sent to africa is a fantasy. But paul was right in pointing out how much women wanted an apartment or a house. The house (by no means small) was a 17th-century stone manor located in the village of bilignen, a few miles from belly. It had some buildings, kitchen gardens, fruit trees and a garden terrace overlooking the valley to the distant mountains. Inside were spacious rooms with old wallpaper and antique furniture.The couple came there every spring and stayed until the autumn, and then also until the autumn after a while. The place turned out to be “better than we ever dreamed about it,” toklas writes in the cookbook. Friends came and took pictures, and such photographs, even black and white, conveyed the extraordinary beauty of that polygon and testified to the contentment of its residents. When the war came to european countries in the autumn of 1939, stein and toklas were in bilignin and stayed here for the cold season. Stein “begged the authorities for a military pass,” toklas writes in the cookbook, “so that you can go to the french capital to get winter branded items and passports out of the house, and try to secure stein’s paintings from the bombing by laying out films on the floor. Such an attempt was abandoned - “the space of the wall was many times larger than the area of \u200b\u200bthe lower horizontal surfaces so that they could not find passports that exist too appropriately hidden. Describing the thankless search, toklas reveals a frightening detail. In search of passports, the pedigree of their poodle basket was discovered. “I put his cells in a bag,” she writes. “Later, the superiors gave rations to purebred dogs, and korzina did not eat too badly during the years of restriction.” For example, nazi racial theories extended to domestic animals as well. From 1939 to 1940, stein and toklas constantly wavered about whether to stay in france or return to the united states. Note the model presented, published in the atlantic monthly in 1940 titled "winner loses: a picture of occupied france", stein describes the tension of the moment. When italy entered the war in june 1940, “i was frightened, completely frightened, and my stomach could feel very weak, because ... Well, here we were directly with you during the delivery. . . . I was scared; i woke up completely upset. And i said to alice toklas: "let's leave." . . And we called the american consul in lyon, who said, "i'll fix your passports." Don't hesitate, go away." But the next day, returning from a meeting with the consul in lyon, who again told them in no uncertain terms to leave, “i said to alice toklas: “well, i don’t know - that would be terribly inconvenient, and i am picky about products. We're not leaving." After further hesitation and another trip to lyon, the decision was made to stay. It happened like this: returning from lyon, they approached bella, stein and toklas. Met a local doctor named shabu and his wife and presented his dilemma to him. “Well,” dr. Shabu said, thinking, “i can’t guarantee anything more, but my advice is to stay. I had friends, he said, who during the last war stayed in their own dwellings on the square of the entire german occupation, and they saved their houses, and everyone who left lost theirs. No,” he said, “i think that if your accommodation is not destroyed by the bombing, i always think that it is best to stay. He continued: “everyone here knows you; everyone likes you; our company will all help you in almost all ways of application. Why risk yourself among strangers?” “Thank you,” we said, “that's all we need. Our company is.” In his book the wars i have seen (written between the winter of 1942-43 and the summer season of 1944 and published in 1945), stein describes another frightening moment of decision which took place at the end of the winter of 1943. She and toklas were about to move from bilignin to an estate in kulo, 5 miles away in the end and went to belly to say goodbye to the lawyer who represented your wishes in an unsuccessful case. A lawsuit against the mistress of the bilignin house, who claimed it for corporate needs. (When friends found them an apartment in kulo, the whores dropped their second lawsuit.) “My lawyer said everything was wonderfully arranged, then they thanked each other and said what a pleasure it was,” stein writes, and then moves on to her . Paragraph: And now i can tell you something quite serious [the lawyer said]. Yesterday i was in vichy and i saw maurice siven, siven was sous prefect in belli and was quite kind and helped her in extending our privileges and that we occupy our house and maurice sivin told me tell these ladies that the images should leave immediately for switzerland, as far as possible tomorrow, otherwise they will come to a concentration camp. But i said we were just moving. I know what he said. I found it very funny, completely funny. But how can we go, because the border is closed, i said. Such that he said, it is possible to arrange, i think it is really possible to arrange. You mean going through a scam. I said, yes, he said, it's real to arrange. I felt very funny. Stein goes home and says to toklas: We are not moving tomorrow, we are going to switzerland. . . Alisa toklas and i sat down to supper. We both felt funny, and then i said.No, i will not go, our employees will not go, it is better to go regularly to the place where we are sent than to go irregularly, in which no one can help us if we are in a difficult situation, no, i said, they always try force us to leave france. But here we are and here our company remains. What do you think, i said, and we thought about it and i said that we would go to belli, meet with a lawyer and tell him no. . . . The lawyer said that it would be better for us to leave, and then he said that he had a house high in the mountains, and in that place others would not recognize, and i said that it’s good, it happens later, but with the development of technology, i said, that tomorrow we are going to move to kulo with surrounding a large cozy new house with 2 good servants and a nice big garden with trees, and our specialists all went home, also the next day we moved without cheating. Stein's refusal to budge in the face of such a warning is both incredible and one hundred percent in keeping with his character. At the very beginning of the wars i have seen—almost on the front page—stein fails to introduce herself to the reader in a way that would make her habits simple and consistent with the deep structures of her personality. She tells us that she was the youngest of 5 children, the baby of the house, and because of that, of course, i had the privilege of petting the privilege of being the youngest. If this happens, then it will not be lost for the rest of your life, that's what a privilege is, no one has the right to do anything other than think about you, that's how i was and that's how i remain, and whoever somehow specially definitely liked it. I did and i do.” No one will do anything but worry about you. Over the years, stein was cared for by comrades who apparently always felt helpless to be enlisted otherwise. The boss of these worker bees was alice toklas, who controlled the practical details of stein's life almost to the point of parody. In the universal autobiography—the lion's share of which is devoted to stein's lecture tour of america after the triumph of the autobiography of alice b. Toklas—stein herself pokes fun at her craving for toklas: I liked the photographers, one came and stated that he had been sent to make a mock-up of me. Layout, i said, yes, he said i said, oh, he said it was four or five pictures of you doing little things. Okay, i said you want me to do it. Why did he say your airplane bag is here, suppose you unpack it, oh i said miss toklas always does that, oh no, i can't do that - prepare, well, he said there's a telephone, suppose you call the phone number well i said yes but no way i do it miss toklas always does it well he said you can do well i said i can put my hat on and take my hat off and i can put on a coat and i can take it off and i love water i can drink a glass of water all right he said do it wanting to help i did it and risk taking pictures while i did it. In the cookbook, toklas continues the joke when he exclaims about the inconvenient gift of doves. , "Six white doves must be strangled, plucked, cleaned, and some suggestions must be made before the return of gertrude stein, because they did not like when help was carried out." But the work of toklas for stein was not a joke. It was made endless and apparently ruthless. “I had the appeasement methods available to those who will remain the youngest,” stein writes about himself earlier in “the wars i have seen ”, and such paths, despite all the efforts made, did not leave her. Her charm was as conspicuous as her stoutness, and no doubt that was the reason why most people lined up to do her a favor - not just alice toklas and her friends, carl van being one of them. Vechten, mabel dodge and thornton wilder, as well as complete strangers. Describing in her autobiography the world war i period when she was driving a ford car from an obliging cousin, stein makes toklas report that she would never agree, did nothing for her own use, neither changed tires, nor started the car, nor restored it. ', Because someone else just showed up. Stein/toklas continues: This ability of gertrude stein to get everyone to create anything for him puzzled the other driving forces of the organization. Mrs. Lathrop, who used to drive her own car, said no one had ever done such a thing for him. It wasn't just the soldiers, the chauffeur got down from the seat of a private car in place vendôme and started gertrude stein's old ford for her. Gertrude stein said the others looked so efficient that of course no one would think of doing anything for them.As for herself, she was ineffective, she was in a good mood, she was democratic, one person was as good as another, and she knew what she wanted. If you are like that, she says, anyone will do what is necessary for you. She insists that it is necessary that in the middle of yourself as the deepest furniture in your figure there should be a sense of equality. Then anyone will do what you need for you. It's just amazing. But don't make the mistake of attributing to stein's rhetoric of equality and that only one modern man is the same as another, a conventional left label. Stein was a particularly reactionary conservative: she loved the republican party, hated roosevelt, and actually supported franco. “She turned out to be a rentier and had a rentier mentality in terms of taxes, enterprises and government,” wrote a young american friend w. G. Rogers of stein in a memoir entitled “when you see this, remember me: gertrude stein personally.” (1948). He continued: Without her fixed income, we might never have heard of rue fleurus, but with the office, we should never be surprised to find her disapproving of roosevelt and the new deal. Believing in crude individualism that prefers the gold base of the dollar, viewing the unemployed as lazy or incompetent, believing that every american has the opportunity to take care of himself at any moment. Was the confidence of her youngest child that everyone succumbed to her charms. She could talk to any of the professionals. But, naturally, she did not believe that one person was as good as another. The question of superiority - who is a genius, as she put it, and which is not - was of constant interest to him. Stein's snobbery started already in childhood. She despised two of her 4 siblings—her brother simon (second child and sister bertha (third child)—considering the first simple-minded and pathetic, and the second sad and annoying. (“It’s natural not to take care of a sister, at least when she is 4 years older and grinds her teeth at night.") She respected her older brother, michael, who took over the family business when his father, daniel stein, died in 1891 (he became co-owner of several san francisco street railroads) and made a fixed income possible, and she adored her fourth son, leo, who was several years her senior and brilliantly intelligent.“My brother and i were always together,” stein recalls in the universal autobiography, “and continues: “if you are the youngest a girl in the family, it is better to have a brother a few years older, from the fact that this will do everything to you, you go everywhere and produce everything, in a bygone era, how the drug does it all for visitors and with you, which is a pleasant way that everything would happen to you. When leo entered harvard, gertrude followed him to radcliffe; while she attended johns hopkins, he took on a research project in baltimore; and, if he moved to the french capital in 1903, she encouraged him at his house, at 27 rue de fleurus, where she began to seriously pursue her writing career and under the tutelage of leo, saw the meaning of modernist art and became his colleague. An early collector of this. But later leo also found that he lacked: "slowly or in any sense, such a move was not surprising, but slowly i learned that i was a genius," and for this purpose there was no reason, but i was, and he was not " . Reason for it, but he didn't leave, and that moment was the beginning of the end, and we were always together, and now we were by no means together. On the sly, we never met again.” The leo stein story is an all-too-common story of early promises coupled with failure to keep them. He started and abandoned many careers as an art historian, scientist, painter, and philosopher. You will agree that he could not finish anything. Severe overcriticality kept him from doing so. The writer hutchins hapgood, in his autobiography the victorian now (1939), gives this eloquent description of leo: He was usually mentally irritable. The slightest mistake, real or imagined, in the utterances of his comrade aroused within him the strongest intellectual indignation. And there seemed to be something here that took it for granted that much that was said by friends other than himself required immediate refutation, or at least significant modification. Leo was dismissive to gertrude's letter - he believed that the page wrote it the way she did it, because she could not fully write normally in english, and he said something that gertrude could not forgive. “He said that it wasn't while it was me. If i had not been around doing something that i did, it would not be what it was, ”she writes in universal autobiography. “This case did not bother me,” she adds.But in fact, the observation of the lion disturbed her all her life, and continues to disturb her offspring. “Maybe they are right as a result, americans are more interested in you than in the work you have done, although they would not be interested in you if you had not done that work - you have done it,” she writes somewhere else in the book. If it's kind of about every famous artist, then it should be noted and much stein, that if she didn't get so interested in male power, why wouldn't she, the porn bunny, write the phenomenon that she wrote. She wrote, almost only, not always openly, about her own experiences, and perhaps of those writers she especially calls for the support of biography in her interpretation. "It and 'i' don't diverge for a second between the players. Her 'melankta' story in three lives," for example, which has been celebrated for years as a kind of miraculous in-depth study of black life by whites writer (and by today's less ludicrous standards of what's advanced can only be called condescending and misunderstood) is based not on stein's experience of black life in the us, but on a lesbian affair between her and a woman named mae bookstaver, who began at johns hopkins and broke her heart. Melanct is stein's next attempt at coming to terms with a broken heart in writing. The fake black conversation between melanctha and her lover jeff is the second version of the conversation between the white female lovers in "qed", a novella that stein boldly wrote about herself and buxtawer in 1903, but didn't dare publish it in her moments of life. So did the characters in the making of americans come from members of her own, although at this stage openly; indeed, stein often spoke of members of her real and fictional families as if the prostitutes were one. As well as the most hermetic of her writings, the works of hidden autobiography. The key "i" will not open the door to their meaning - you need a crowbar - but sometimes it will let you into a kind of suggestion chamber. In 1914, leo moved from fleurus street and went to live in florence. A few years earlier, alice toklas had taken over his activity of accompanying the pleasure of his sister (she moved in with gertrude and leo in 1909 and the concrete departure was like the fall of a shoe. He and gertrude shared the novelties and furnishings and parted forever. Gertrude's bruised feelings due to stubborn leo's refusal to acknowledge her genius was nothing in contrast to leo's chagrin and fury at his sister's success.As letters published at the conclusion of his death show, leo was almost beside himself when she came out, so the recognition "the autobiography of alice b. Toklas" was awarded. He kept asking his friends about their reactions, hoping that they would confirm his attitude towards gertrude as a fraud, and about her admirers as "stupid idiots who walk around to listen to her stupid chatter. "I think you read her autobiography, - he wrote to the collector albert barnes in 1934. “This book strikes me as a fairly clever superstructure on the basis of impenetrable stupidity. It's the other way around with gertrude. She's mostly dumb and i'm only smart. However, some huge narcissism of gertrude and partly self-confidence allowed her to build a film quite spectacular on an individual foundation. I, on the other hand, because of the frustrating, complicating, and stupefying effects of a terrible neurosis, was unable to build anything substantial on the individual intellect, which only partly and distortedly manifested itself.” This is someone believes that without alice toklas, stein would have lacked the will to continue to write what for many ages practically no one was interested in reading. Stein's narcissism and self-confidence needed to be fueled, and toklas showed up just in time to give them the boost that leo was refusing. “You are writing a book,” stein says plaintively in the making of the americans, “and while you are writing it, you are ashamed, because everyone must think that you are stupid or crazy, it is worth noting that you are writing it and you are ashamed, you know that anyone will laugh or feel sorry for you and you have a strange feeling and we are not very sure and keep writing. Then someone says yes. . . Under such circumstances, you will never have such a sense of fear and shame more voluminously. Toklas said yes to stein's writing when her self-confidence was at its peak. She banished doubts from the consciousness of the artist stein, as she later expelled the unworthy from stein's salon. The division of household labor between two women, with one doing everything and the other doing nothing, proved to be the next prerequisite for the flowering of stein's genius. “It takes a lot of time and effort to be a genius, you have to sit around so much, agree, do nothing, really agree, do nothing,” stein cheerfully reports in autobiography of all. Her literary enterprise itself was almost entirely free from work.Mabel dodge's four-volume autobiography intimate memoirs, begun in 1924 (after her fourth marriage to become mabel dodge luhan), gives us a rare glimpse of stein at her table during the long visit she and toklas made to the villa. Curonia in 1912. It was late at night and stein was “automatically writing in a long, weak hand—four or five lines in a blog—letting them flow from the depths of her soul onto paper with minimal physical effort. ; She turned over a dozen pages, left them there and went to sleep, and in the morning alice collected them. Stein never revised, or increasingly rarely revised (a rare false start to the autobiography of alice b. Toklas is found among stein's papers), and for the universal autobiography she said she never wrote more than half an hour a day (but pointedly added: "of course, all day and every day you wait to write that half an hour a day"). Stein did not print her work at all; she completely oozed into her own notebooks, and toklas did the rest. Both women came from the same background - second-generation jewish american business families, and both lost their mothers to cancer, stein in age-related changes of a fourteen-year-old and a twenty-year-old toklas, but completely different in appearance and temperament. In secret memoirs, the wickedly observant mabel dodge draws a striking contrast between them: Gertrude stein was amazing. Pounds and pounds and pounds piled up on her skeleton—so much to heave, and massive heavy fat. She was covered in some kind of velveteen or velvet, and her curly hair was combed back and curled high behind her cheerful, intelligent face. . . . A year ago, gertrude lived in fiesole, and she barely walked down one hill through the location and up another to see us. . . And arrives [d] just sweaty, her face steamed. In case she sat down, fanning herself with a wide-brimmed hat with a drooping dark brown ribbon, she exhaled living vapor around her. When she got up, she frankly pulled off her clothes from the place where she stuck to her further powerful legs. But at the same time, she wasn't repulsive at all. On the contrary, she turned out to be positively, richly attractive in a positive big amler. She seemed to always like her own fat, and this usually gives other people the opportunity to take it. She never had the funny anglo-saxon embarrassment about flesh. She reveled in hers. As for toklas (whom the bisexual dodge was not drawn to), she Was thin and swarthy, with attractive gray drooping eyes with dark eyelashes - and she had a hanging, jewish nose, and her eyelids were lowered, and the sparks of her red mouth and earlobes fell under the black curled jewish hair, as if weighed down by long, heavy oriental hair. Earrings. . . . She looked like leah from the old testament, in every semi-oriental outfit - blue, brown and oyster white - with dark hair, barbaric chains and jewelry - and a melancholy nose. Dodge continues the comparison with dinner table: gertrude "loved beef, and i liked to see her sit down in front of five pounds of rare meat, three inches thick, and with strong wrists holding a knife and fork, finish with an appetite, and alice ate a small piece gracefully, like a cat. Shortly after the visit, despite dodge being a tireless promoter of stein's work, stein dumped her, and dodge was convinced that toklas was behind it. She cites an incident which, in her opinion, sealed her fate: “once at dinner, gertrude, who was sitting across from me on the bed of edwin, the absent dodge, sent me such a mighty look over the table that it seemed to pierce the air. Me in a strip of electrified steel - a smile traveling through it - mighty - heaven! I remember it so well now! Here alice hurriedly got up and ran out of the room onto the terrace. Stein went to fetch her and returned, saying that toklas did not want her lunch: "this country is feeling the heat today." Dodge adds: "from now on, alice began to separate gertrude and me-poco-poco." Ten years later, man ray took the famous photo of stein and toklas in the open air of rue de 27. Fleurus. They sit at opposite ends of a low table in front of the fireplace, over which modernist works hang: gertrude is fat, beautiful, comfortable, benevolent, alice is thin, nondescript, tense, sour. The photograph is a special parody of the conditional secular portrait of the spouses at home - it shimmers with the genre sense of observance of decency and silence. The word "lesbian" was never spoken publicly by either of them about their relationship - due to the fact that at that hour it was customary not to say it. But the strength of their love is documented by stein's erotic poems (published after her death), the memoirs of contemporaries, and immediately an exceptional case, literary vandalism. Toklas writes in this chapter of "food in the bug" that "as the dismal dark months dragged on, the provision of provisions became easier and more plentiful, except for meat and butter," and lays out : “more and more people came here, even from lyon, which is located seventy miles away. Goods in the resistance, of course. When i read the above - in the fifties, the latter did not cause me an understanding smile, as it does today. Whereas you probably know that the people that stein and toklas saw during their military service were normal guys. However, today i know that at least one of those who came to see stein and toklas in culose was not a good guy, but one of the worst guys ever, convicted of collaborationism after the battle and sentenced to life hard labor. He was bernard fay, a professor at the french institute and a writer, gay in his early 40s, from a large royalist catholic family whose right-wing connections had led to personal employment appointments. , In 1940 as head of the national library (replacing a jew). Fi had been a close friend of stein's in the early twenties—one of the few close friends where the partition screen hadn't quarreled or torn as a result. In his photo with stein in bilignin, he is a stocky man with a mustache and shiny black hair. The image does not show clubfoot, the result of polio suffered in his early years. His academic field was american history and culture (here was a degree from harvard, and in the variety of his books there are biographies of benjamin franklin and george washington, a work titled "the revolutionary spirit in france and hollywood studios" and a study of american novelists). , However, he also cultivated avant-garde craftsmanship and was an active promoter of stein's work in france (he translated the autobiography of alice b. Toklas into french and co-translated an abridged version of the making of the americans). ). In 1966, twenty years after his conviction and sentencing, fifteen years after he had escaped from the prison hospital and rushed to switzerland, and eight years after françois mitterrand-fah had pardoned him, françois mitterrand-fa wrote his memoirs under titled "les précieux", where he described himself as the protector of stein and toklas in the army. He writes that much of his work as head of the library consisted of acting as an adviser to pétain, and once a month he traveled from paris to vichy to consult with the old man. During one of their meetings, he found an opportunity to exchange opinions “about gertrude, her genius, about the risks that 1xbet was in, also in particular, about the danger that she might freeze to death in the coming winter.” He continues: Before the meeting was over, the marshal dictated a letter to the sous-prefect in belly, entrusting him with gertrude stein and alice toklas, and instructing him to see that they had everything necessary to to keep warm in winter, and in addition season tickets for meat and butter. I often came to vichy and called the sous prefect to remind him of his instructions. During this terrible period of occupation, poverty and the nascent civil war, two of my friends lived a peaceful life. They lacked no courage, no reason, no sense of reality, no coal. An abridged version of the story is given, the only known documentary evidence of fai's intervention. The biographers of stein and toklas accept this as the truth. But stein and toklas never mentioned it in their juicy accounts of their military experience. Stein, in a letter written in early spring 1946, four months before her death, in which she defended fai before the court that later convicted him, noted that he had saved her art collection, but did not say that he had saved her life. . Toklas, who lived until 1967, also remained silent on this matter. Not a bit of what she wrote, including letters trying to get help for fai in prison, toklas did not acknowledge fai's protection in the army. Does this mean that fi lied about his interference in order to look good? Or was he telling the truth, and stein and toklas remained silent because they could not bring themselves to admit to the world that they were confused with a collaborator? M. Burns. I was greatly fascinated by an essay written by him and another professor of another language, ulla e. Daido, titled "gertrude stein: september 1942-september 1944" and published as an appendix to their collection letters from gertrude stein and thornton. Wilder (1996). Burns and dido are stein's eminent scientists.Burns had previously edited a two-volume collection of letters between stein and carl van vechten (van vechten was a friend whose slavish devotion to stein rivaled toklas; in his letters he called her baby woojums—he remained papa woojums and toklas mama). Woodjums); a book of letters by alice toklas "stay alone"; and an illustrated book of stein's writings on picasso. Daido, in turn, produced the stein reader, numerous contributions to stein published in scholarly journals, and a monumental critical study of gertrude stein: the language that rise, 1923-1934, which will be released in the fall. However, in a positive essay about stein during world war ii, burns and dido do not rest on their laurels, referring to her troubled relationship with fai, and these girlfriends are equally harsh on her perverted project, begun in late 1941 and apparently instigated fay. Translation of petain's book of speeches into english. Of course, stein was not alone in some admiration for pétain, the hero of verdun. “It is difficult, however, to understand how stein continued his project after the edicts against the jews were issued and the deportations began,” write burns and dido, adding: As if in 1942 -43 she was isolated from understanding what was going on. She was necessarily conservative, reactionary and fearful of communism, and during the spanish civil war she was anti-loyalist. Our company does not know to what extent it continued to rely on fai's judgments and what she understood in such political activity, his active anti-semitism, his hatred of bolshevism, his collaborationism. . . .In wars i've seen, filled with insightful peeping into everyday life, the reactionary tone is sometimes uncomfortable. What page realized about fai and how she saw the situation remains a complex mystery. A page earlier, daido and burns report fai's escape from the prison hospital on september 30, 1951 of the last months with the help of friends. They make up that one of these girlfriends was alice toklas: "by selling one or more of picasso's paper works, toklas helped finance the escape." I searched for the source of this exciting information, but there was no such bear in the text or in the footnote. I called one of the editors and this leads to a series of meetings with burns, daido and stein's more distant researcher, william rice, at burns's apartment on east tenth street in manhattan. A talkative man of fifty-nine who entered stein's abyss when he was a student at brooklyn college and took a course in american literature taught by dido. The teaching of daido stein, according to burns, was his first encounter with stein's real or experimental writing—different from her accessible, "auditor" writing—and the beginning of a serious interest in stein that became a matter of his whole health. Before writing a phd thesis. Dissertation, which was to become stein-van vechten volumes, burns taught at the charles evans hughes high school in chelsea. (He told me that his own high school diploma was under attack because he refused to sign the pledge of allegiance, which was then a requirement for graduation.) He currently teaches at the william paterson institute in new jersey. Daido is a slender, elegant woman of seventy-eight who speaks with a european accent and provides a tart manner that rivals deep-seated softness and is defeated. She grew up in switzerland and came to the proposed country after the 1940s to complete her master's degree at bryn mawr and, thereafter, her ph.D. At the wisconsin institute. Her thesis was on allen tate. "Tate got me interested when i started," dido said at one of our meetings. “But its application did not continue to interest me. In my dissertation, i actually said: "such an action is not interesting." He was a traditionalist. And your these southern affairs. I started reading stein with my own hands in wisconsin and everything was interesting." After wisconsin, daido taught for years at the brearley school in manhattan, and then at vassar, brooklyn, and the bronx community colleges. A person, primarily an artist and an actor, therefore suggests a couple of different status in the trio. Thus, in thornton wilder's book and daido's new book, he is listed as "with william rice". He entered stein's universe in 1980 when burns hired him to carry out research and typeset the manuscript for van vechten's book, and he stayed with burns and dido as a nutritional researcher. burns and daido work in many parts of stein's vineyard.Burns has all sorts of biographical impulses, although he lacks one key trait of a biographer: an arrogant desire to impose a narrative on random bits of life washed up on the coast of biographical research. He is content to post excerpts as available, and offers clips in footnotes, introductions, and appendices to the collections of letters and miscellaneous writings he collects. His appetite for studying stein's life is almost insatiable. He goes where no one else thought to go, and returns with trophies of great value. Daido is worried about stein's texts, which she reads very carefully, perhaps the most careful reader. Stein ever had. Expertise is a leading figure in the recent movement to give stein the status of a master of modernism as a matter of fact, to read her collaborations with excitement, but not through hostile incomprehension. Indeed, as jennifer ashton, the simplest of stein's new critics, without irony, reports above with the title "gertrude stein for any of" published in elh magazine in 1997, "among the later negative responses that identify her as a forerunner of postmodernism, promiscuity, transformed into vagueness or indeterminacy, became stein's strongest asset." Daido's essays, along with her new book, reflect a liking for stein's experimental writing so strong that it almost convinces the reader that a person or she, too, can take any of stein's text and study it admiringly. Dido cherishes the anarchy of stein's language. “By taking words out of standard usage, [stein] stops us from mindless associations with things, thoughts, and formulations,” writes the partition screen in the language that elevates. “This process also eliminates any hierarchical attributes of grammar and the distinction between important and unimportant words. Words cease to be signifiers and turn into objects of their own accord. But dido is under no illusions about the complexity of stein's writing. "Is stein worth the effort to understand her?" She pauses to voice the problem in said book, and gives the question a chance to run its six hundred and fifty-nine pages. Twenty years ago daido set herself the herculean task of establishing the true text of stein's work. “Anyone who has copied or memorized stein’s work in the beginning has heard how difficult it is to accurately decipher stein,” dido writes in an essay titled “how to read gertrude stein,” published in 1984 in the proceedings of the text scholarship society. "Stein's syntax, grammar and punctuation do not afford the typist or reader the opportunity to blindly rely on language habits in preparing or proofreading stein's text." Accordingly, the errors of typists and typesetters, which would jump out of texts written in ordinary english, do not jump out of stein's texts and can only be eliminated by carefully comparing printed texts with handwritten ones. For more than twenty years, daido checked printed texts against manuscripts and found serious errors. One of her most significant corrections was in the text of "station in meditation", a highly impenetrable work. , Written in 1932—the same year, as it turns out, as the seductively light autobiography of alice b. Toklas was written—though not published until 1956 by yale. The stanzas, a solid work long, described by one critic as, by the way, the most boring long poem on earth, ”and daido herself as“ incredibly difficult ”, present claims to the reader from which only the most heroic steinians will be happy. . Comparing the manuscript and published versions of stanzas in meditation, dido stumbled upon something extremely strange. In the manuscript, she found that almost anywhere the auxiliary verb "may" appeared, stein crossed it out and inserted the word "may." For example, the lines "they can easily send it off to say / that they won't change it if they can" have been modified to "they can easily send it off to say that people won't change it if they can". In addition, when the month of may appeared, it was crossed out and replaced with “day or “today”. The revisions do not make sense and are recognized as clear shortcomings. Often changes "distort the language into incomprehensible, even non-english formulations," dido writes in "the language that rise," because they might be spared" replaced by "can they be spared." The published text of the "stans" was composed of typewritten text reflecting corrections, and until now daido had not studied the manuscript and still not studied the earlier typewritten text, no one knew that all the clumsy "jars" in the poem were originally ""may ", and today and "day" was "may". Why did stein distort her work so much? Daido couldn't solve the problem. Then, in the summer of 1980, she had a dream that gave her the answer.Her painstaking work in comparing handwritten and printed text was carried out at the beinecke library at yale university, where most of stein's manuscripts are kept. Dido periodically traveled to new haven and stayed with a friend, but in the summer there was no point in the friend's house and dido had to be content with spartan conditions in an area called the alumni club. "It's a really depressing place," she told me. “This is a dilapidated old wooden frame. Boards creak. The rooms are not much larger than monastic cells. There are sinks and tiny beds. There is no air conditioning. But he became close to beinecke and was cheap. And then, sometimes, the dream came.” Daido had a dream about the incident described by stein in the autobiography of alice b. Toklas, when she accidentally stumbled upon a manuscript of an early work of science fiction. Stein does not name the work, but we assume that "qed" is. “The funny thing about this short novel is that she completely forgot about it for many years,” stein writes in the voice of toklas and continues: She remembered how she then began writing trinity. Alive, however, and this first letter is now completely forgotten, she never told me about it, even in the case when i first got to know her. She must have forgotten about it almost immediately. This year, only two days before we left for the country, she was looking for a certain manuscript. . . And she came across these two meticulously written volumes of that completely forgotten first novel. When dido woke up in her stuffy room at the alumni club, she instantly realized that the word "powerful" in stans was associated with may bookstawer, the thinly disguised love object of qed. This insight was proven by leon katz, a stein researcher, with whom dido spoke a couple of days later, and who told her that in the situation when he interviewed alice toklas in the early fifties, she told him about the jealous rage that seized her, when she read forgotten novel. In a 1985 chicago review article titled "stans in meditation: another autobiography", daido writes: when stein and toklas exchanged 'confessions', falling in love, stein didn't talk about his relationship with may." She continues: Alice, who knew nothing about such a relationship, was furious. She destroyed—or forced gertrude to destroy—may's letters, which served as the basis for an early novel. The medical record became, as she put it, "paranoid about may's name." This paranoia is probably the key to viewing stanz's lyrics. "How do you imagine the scene?" I asked dido. She, burns, rice, and i were seated at a table in the alcove of burns's living room, a light-filled space sparsely furnished with modernist furniture, walls lined with paintings, prints, and photographs. "Do you think alice stood over gertrude and watched her change may cans for cans?" "No," dido said. "No ," rice said. "It's much more punitive for alice to say, 'go out there and do it! You do it tonight! In your room!" Daido turned her normally pleasant voice into a sharp bark. "Go to the corner and do it," rice said. "The manuscript tells a terrible story—" burns said. “Strength, such words are crossed out with it. The anger with which it was done is done. Some of the cuts go through the paper." "You almost expect to see blood," rice said. Stein's acceptance of the punishment inflicted on him by her enraged toklas poem is practically impossible to understand. How could a serious writer make such a crazy request? However, what is important to say about the sexual side of being ordinary people? We are sure that envy can push a citizen to terrible deeds. We take into account the idea of sadomasochism. Some contemporary reports—and hints stein herself dropped—suggest that the "may"/"may" episode was not an isolated event, but part of the couple's regular repertoire of sadomasochistic games. The most striking of the reports comes from hemingway. In his personal memoir a birthday with the move, he writes of a conversation he overheard between stein and toklas, whose violence upset him so much that it practically ended his friendship with stein. Hemingway tells how he came to stein at 27 rue fleurus, and the maid told him to wait, who brought him a glass of cognac water. He continues: The colorless alcohol felt good on my tongue, which was still in my mouth, when i heard a person talking to ms. Stein, since i did not hear anyone- then he talked to another; never, nowhere, never. Then came the pleading and pleading voice of ms. Stein: “no need, pussycat. Not. Do not do it, please. I'll do what it takes, pussy, but please don't do it. Please don't. Please don't, pussycat." What hemingway wrote about stein and toklas in the holiday party was received with skepticism. The design is said to be revenge for stein's omission from the autobiography of alice b. Toklas. (“Gertrude stein and sherwood anderson have some pretty funny comments about hemingway… they both decided they had a soft spot for hemingway because he was like this: a quality student. Looks innovative and smells like museums.") However, in light of what the pussy did to hemingway's stein poem, this version no longer seems so suspicious. During a trip to europe in 1968 for writing letters for "to be alone" burns stumbled upon the story of fai's escape, which made it into the insert of thornton wilder's book. On a boring trip, he visited belly and spoke to maurice sivan, who was the sous-prefect in faye's story (in stein's account of the horrifying moment at the lawyers, he misspelled siven), and who confirmed this in full detail. In connection with which the question presented was answered. The response to the interest in toklas and the escape was more wrenching. “Four people told me about it,” burns said. “Firstly, there were the knapiks—harold and virginia—who became good friends of alice after the death of gertrude. They were americans living in paris. Harold was an outstanding cook, and alice put some of his recipes in her cookbook.” When burns said the name harold knapik, i saw a page in the cookbook where knapik's recipe for székely goulash appeared, and i was even able to quote his introductory comment: “this man is the most goulash that i mentioned. It is acceptable, besides its origin, on the hungarian plain is reflected somewhat persistently. This remark remained in my memory - clovis sungreil can say almost anything about goulash - and fell in love with knapik. And then he is about to appear real and naturally, very distinct because of who i imagined. I already had to reconsider my knowledge of another cookbook author (toklas collected such consumables in a chapter called "recipes from friends"). It was fania marinoff, whose lamb curry for six is one of the mostmost famous soiled pages in my copy of the book. In this imagination, phania was a jewish female matriarch who lived on west end avenue and never left her brunch coat. But from the photographs in the letters of gertrude stein and carl van vechten, i had to accept that fania - the playful second wife of the gay van vechten - was a beautiful and slender young russian actress. Burns paused for dramatic results, and said, “the knapiki are already dead, so what i can say is this: they were from the cia. Agents. Harold's cover - he became a musician - was the fact that he was working on a book on counterpoint; virginia worked at the american embassy. My idea of knapik has remained unchanged. Of course, he was a cia agent. Agent. Burns continued, “the knapps told me they knew about alice's involvement in the escape, but they said it was some madame. Azam was the partner i was hired to talk to because the porn bunny knew all about it in detail. Madame azam, née cohen, was a wealthy, educated, elderly french woman who lived in paris. She was a jewish convert to catholicism and a good friend of fai, and eventually of alice. She said that fai was walking with her down the streets of paris when she had to wear the yellow star. When i interviewed madam. Azam, she said, “alice and i were instrumental in organizing bernard's escape. We helped with the money." She told me that the users who pulled it out were dressed as nuns. Then she introduced me to fi and i went to see him.” “Which one do you think of?” I asked burns. “What was he like?” “He remained utterly charming. I met him in a beautiful parisian apartment that belonged to his brother. I started trying to speak french, but he said no, it was important for him to speak in english. At first he was a little wary of me, and then gradually began to trust me. You can imagine what it's like to be able to give bits and pieces of the information you have. Finally, he always got angry and presented me with some of his books. But i remember feeling awkward and feeling that this is not a very pleasant person. You must be aware that i stopped by kahnweiler, who said: "i know that you are doing this for your activity on gertrude, but he is a completely disgusting person." Represent the cubists in this parisian gallery before their functionality became valuable; he had difficulties in the first world war because of his german origin and in the second world war because of his jewishness.) As burns spoke, ulla dido and bill rice sipped their beers and listened intently, as if they were also hearing the story for the first time. Burns continued his narration: “when i came to fai, i played two functions. I was there for information and availability of emails from the account for the book. I felt a certain excitement - here is a man who knew gertrude and about whom gertrude wrote. I asked him a problem about gertrude, and the answer was everything gertrude told him. It was like touching a fisherman's boots. But then there was my jewishness - thank you very much. This is the case when you feel impure. You know that under normal circumstances you wouldn't be sitting in the same room with this person." (In a native essay on the program, burns and daido note that "from the july 1940 issue to the june 1944 issue, faye was editor of the only german-funded magazine, the anti-jewish magazine la gerbe.") several weeks earlier i spoke remotely with gilbert harrison, who wrote the preface to a collection of toklas burns' letters. (I knew the premises in the late 1950s, when he was editor of the new republic.) He, too, told me of his personal close acquaintance with fahi in paris. That moment came in 1937. Harrison, at that time still a very young man, intended to visit stein and toklas, as many of the very young generation did in those days. Three years earlier, he had attended one of stein's american lectures (in pasadena), after which he stopped her in the lobby and talked to her for one hour. But today, when he appeared at 27 fleurus, he did not find a single soul at home. He called fai (he introduced him to the us through stein), she informed him that the women were stationed in bilinin, kindly offered to arrange an invitation, and meanwhile invited him to have breakfast with him and his sister. “It was the best possible and very elegant lunch, with the sister herself was so elegant that she barely condescended to talk with us,” harrison said. He added: "a significant 'but' of fai i will never forget. — Why not get some paris? - He said. "I can arrange for your health to receive a scholarship, because you are not a jew." I asked harrison (who is jewish) what he said. “I was absolutely calm,” he replied. In the preface to the abridged edition of “the making of americans,” fai wrote that he (and in everything he wrote to stein about and about he wrote) obsequious to such an extent that it would be simply ridiculous if it did not require that we know about his sinister collaboration: picasso and her friends, always picturesque, always funny, or in a village, surrounded by flowers, dogs, along with her peasant neighbors, who seem to her the same as flowers or dogs, because when she talks about them and when she speaks to them, her voice and her understanding give them a reality that people reach only at the time when they only dream of encountering, in an exceptionally short time, the true acute life of the early morning. . . . I found gertrude stein always like they are always new. Whenever i approached her, it seemed to me that existence and things become precise, that the light frankly shines on everything, and connecting her i had the pleasure of talking once as if words had meaning and, like the meaning of everything, words and things. , Were pleasant. Stein, for her part, wrote about fi not so stupidly, but with love, both in the autobiography of alice b. Toklas and in the autobiography of everyone. After carl van vechten, he was her most staunch supporter and assistant. In the autobiography of alice b. Toklas, she writes, apparently as an inside joke, of an unsuccessful first meeting with faye: "bernard faye was not at all what gertrude stein expected, and neither he nor she had anything to do with especially talking to each other." But then “gertrude stein and bernard fay met again, and this time they had something to tell each other. Gertrude stein found the communion with his mind both stimulating and relaxing. They gradually became friends." Stein will not be able to refrain from slyly adding: I remember walking into the room one day and hearing bernard fay say that the three primary people he met in his personal career were picasso, gertrude stein and andre. Gide and gertrude stein asked extremely elementary, this is absolutely correct, but why include gide. A year or so later, talking about this fact of the conversation, he told her and i'm not sure that you were right. Hemingway wrote bitterly, and he was not the only former friend, this criterion is that in the three or four years that we were good friends, i don't remember that gertrude stein ever spoke well of any writer who could not write positively about her service or did something to advance her career, not counting ronald firbank and, later, scott fitzgerald."Fi performed both services zealously. He occasionally taught and read at the university in america; consequently, when stein went on a lecture tour of america, he was able to pave the way for her to many universities. He also rehearsed her lectures with her; in fact, he taught her the technique of lecturing. More importantly, he promoted stein's work in france through his translations and opulent compositions. Fahy was a bootlicker par excellence. An almost palpable smell of oily flattery comes from the collection of his letters to stein in beineck. In five years of friendship, stationery and handwriting are improved year after year, but obsequiousness never falters. Even in the last letters, written from prison on stationery, not at all like the luxurious black-bordered writing paper on which fi wrote his early notes, the habit of fawning remains unchanged, as in the following, written on october 15, 1945: />I feel and enjoy from my own chamber your affection and your vitality. As soon as you can, send me some of what you recently wrote. I can't wait to see this. "American literature" is now in vogue all over france and especially here. I talked a lot about american writers and most of all about our client here with a number of people. What was it for fai? What attracted a royalist anti-semite to a jewish woman in a ridiculous dress? In his chapter on stein in les précieux, faye writes of a personal first date with her in 1924: “she turned out to be quite obese and energetic and resembled a 2nd century roman emperor, where there could be jewish blood. She had too short hair. Her beautiful face shone with authority and intelligence, she was wearing a blouse with a colorful embroidered waistcoat, a short khaki skirt, khaki stockings and yellow leather sandals. Anti-semites traditionally often have jewish best friends; it is acquired with territory. This provides them with delightful pleasures. Stein would be the perfect subject for the obligatory transgressive dream of friendship with the exceptional chosen one. In "les précieux" stein's jewishness comes to the fore. Fai writes that she walked with her in bilignin and talked about the most daring subjects. “She loved talking to me about god,” he writes, and continues: . .In the bible, god's goal is to improve life on earth, protect believers and lead his people. . . However, the question of the afterlife or eternity is never observed. I refrained from my own knowledge of the bible, which was more direct than hers, and limited myself to answering, “the material, earthly, practical god is an idol. Only the spiritual god, who is above people and their limited ideas about time and space, fate, and death, deserves that worship that jews, wise and worthy people, are never able to give him if they did not feel horror in their presence, which the parallel world, the beyond inspires.” Readers of the universal autobiography may recall stein's account of her sad early realization of the phenomenon that there was no mention of eternity in the hebrew scriptures.” “When i was about 8,” she writes, “i was surprised to find out that the old testament does not say anything about further existence or eternity. I read it to understand, and there was nothing in that place. God, of course, was, and the risk spoke, but there was nothing about eternity. Whether the conversation fi is recording actually took place, or whether he made it up by re-reading the universal autobiography, only the citizens of outland can know. Faye, most likely unable to undo his jewish theme, continues that sooner or later, when he said something clever about picasso, stein "turned to me, looked me directly in the eyes and said, 'be honest, bernard, admit it. You are too smart not to become a jew." No doubt you can, stein said this cliché, but due to the circumstances there is doubt. She prided herself on her originality and unpredictability. Or she said extremely stupid things, and it was her own stupidity, but not the stupidity that other opponents said. Absurd remark that hitler wants to destroy germany because he is an austrian and, as a result, harbors a deep unconscious hatred for germany - pauses to note that if she first uttered this apersu at a parisian dinner party in 1935, "they all thought that i'm just trying to be smart, but that's just not the case at all." Stein's habitual desire to be flamboyant is a defining characteristic of her living and art.She seemed to glow when she walked into a room, and the work, even the most sealed, has a sheen that keeps reading well past the hour when it's okay to stop reading a text file that doesn't make sense. Boasting, which is the prerogative and mandate of the youngest child, was turned by the grown-up stein into a formidable social and artistic tool. Repels; there is an irony in the compliments that only emphasizes the sincerity of his affection for her. So when in a footnote) dido and burns quote wilder's letter to alexander woolcott in september 1933, here he is staring at stein's evasiveness about her jewishness, we don't feel he is duplicitous. Rather, we feel that it is getting to the cause: I believe you have read alice b. Toklas. Well, gertrude stein is a beautiful, large, serene girl, isn't she? Beyond prejudice, regardless of the good or bad opinion of the world? Then: how much does she never mention that the porno bunny or miss toklas is jewish? And to whom in a set of profiles that were all i could take away from the current 1000-page work ("the first great book written over time") "the making of americans", the porn bunny does not mention that the family she is so detailed analyzes this jewish family. And is she really inventing a name that is only remotely possibly jewish when she comes up with a fictitious name for her own dacha? This is again the wife of henry adams. You can make fascinating books if you carefully leave out the essentials. In the wars i've seen, stein continues to miss the essentials. She simply does not encourage herself to make the decision to note that she and toklas are jewish. However, she clearly fantasizes about the persecution of the jews by the nazis, and the book is full of indirect allusions to this. She writes about the dreyfus affair and anti-semitism, mentions jewish refugees and tells a story that could be a disguised story about herself: There is this about a jewess, a parisian, in high demand in the parisian world. She and her family took refuge in chambéry when the parisian persecution of the jews began. And then, sometimes there was no southern zone, all jews were supposed to put this fact on their identity card and ration card, she went to the prefecture for this, and the official, this she saw, looked at her sternly. .Madam, he said, do you have evidence of the phenomenon, what are you jewish about, why not, she said, well, he said, in case you personally do not have clear evidence of food, that you are jewish, in connection with which you came and bothered me, for what reasons did she say that i beg you to forgive, no, he said that i was not interested yet when you did not prove that you were jewish, glad to welcome you, he said, and she left. This whore told a story. Most french officials were like that, really like that. The discussion of the dreyfus affair and anti-semitism is abruptly interrupted by a strange passage that seems to belong to one of the experimental compositions, and not to the book in hand, which is written on (partially) regular english. The passage reads: He can read acacias, pens and faces. Acacia for a goat, and a goat gives milk, which is very necessary now, and hands and faces are hands and faces, and dreams when you dance and fall asleep are real, and others, this refers to anti-semitism, that this is true and not real, thought out and false. Claudia roth pierpont, in an essay on stein in her own book passionate minds: women rewriting the world, wittily supports this "nonsense talk". For comparison, "stein's old trick of sorting out any serious trouble: pretending that there is none, and then gossip or lisp, to maybe convince her that you have booked an address, within a day, or-or, at least, that you are not a reasonable target. I sensed that there was some truth in pierpont's observation, but i wondered if her impatience with stein, like my own, was based on too early a diagnosis of meaninglessness. Aware of dido's desire to give stein's incomprehensible texts what the porn bunny calls "gertrude's sense," on my next date with the three stein researchers, i studied the passage aloud and asked dido if she knew what acacia trees had to do with anti-semitism. "I have no idea," she said. I made a stupid joke: "you might be dreaming." "I can't dream about the game," dido replied calmly. "But i'll see what i can do." And over the next week, she sent me emails about the elements of the passage, identifying the acacia tree as the old testament burning bush and the goat as the sacrificial animal, and pointing out that the passage begins with several pages of reflections on the lack of freedom of innocent people, like oscar wilde, and, among other things, dreyfus.I myself began to look and again pay attention to the passage, and was rewarded for perseverance with insight. I realized that the phrase "dreams when you dance and fall asleep" refers to the dance marathon in chicago, where stein and toklas were taken during the american lecture tour. In such terrifying depressive entertainments, impoverished young couples competed for financial bonuses, sometimes dancing for weeks at a time until they lost heart. In the universal autobiography, stein describes the marathon: “there was nothing either awake or sleeping, both were young and moving as their bodies drooped. They did not sleep for six weeks, and among some the other no longer existed with him, they moved and hung alone, but when there were two of them, one clung more than moved. (Stein also wrote to carl van vechten about the marathon: “they are like the shadows of the modern shadows from dante, which move so strangely, and they lead each other about the fact that one is completely asleep and the other is almost, this is the most unearthly and most beautiful movement. I ever saw.) Now, in june 1943, stein announces the progressive months of the war, as if keeping a diary, she identifies herself with sleepwalking dancers: “this is really so and not real and real so as not true. A few pages earlier, after recounting the sous prefect's warning to flee to switzerland or be sent to a concentration camp, she concluded: "but what was so curious about the whole affair was its unreality." She too wrote of the incident, "it took us a few weeks to get through this, so we finally got over it." But it took her from february to june to force herself to tell this historical background and of course, the porn bunny didn’t recover from that. "The wars i've seen" is riddled with stein's anxiety. Two years earlier, stein had embodied her fear in a novel called mrs. Reynolds" about a couple of ordinary people living in the oppressive shadow of two sinister men named angel harper and joseph lane, called to represent hitler and stalin. Richard bridgman, in a certain classic study, gertrude stein in detail (1970), dryly observed that “mrs. Reynolds is not allowed to be promoted as enjoyable reading." For many people this is an impossible read; the book is written in stein's most brutally boring experimental style. “There is nothing historical in this book but a state of mind,” stein wrote in the epilogue. "The wars i've seen" is recorded as history, like a state of mind, and there is nothing like it in military literature or, for that matter, in the writings of stein. This is a work of realism struggling with itself yourself. "The autobiography of alice b. Toklas" reflected stein's deep, almost purring satisfaction with his form. "The wars i've seen" reflects stein's ambivalence about the form she chose, or which may have chosen her. In the earliest pages of the book, one can almost hear the clash of wills between stein's divided personalities. We can almost hear one say, "no, i won't tell," and someone say, "please try." In the autobiography of alice b. Toklas, stein boasts that her short story "melanctus" "was the first definite step from the nineteenth century into the twentieth in literature." For forty years, stein worked as the modernist innovator of the bygone century. But now the real estate to be bought must consider the possibility of eating, that the nineteenth time did not end especially when she and everyone else thought it ended, but ends only today with the advent of barbarism. “Realism was the last thing the nineteenth century did recklessly. Everyone has the opportunity to know that there is no point in being a realist here and now. . . Today is not the nineteenth, but the twentieth century, there is no realism now, life is not real, frivolous, strange, but it is a completely different matter. And yet, paradoxically, something suggests to stein that in the modern world it makes sense to be a realist, that life is indeed real and serious and that it should try to shake things up. "Horrors, fears, universal fears, the helplessness of all fears, so unlike other wars, make this war very similar to shakespeare's plays." Stein understands that the ideal is not to try to write like shakespeare, but this turmoil also feels that the occasion calls for her not to try to write like herself either. The modernist experimenter will not express what he is going to (and never wants to) express. Journalist eric sevareid was the first american to reach coulo after the liberation of paris. In his book, not a particularly wild dream (1946), he writes of a meeting with stein at the dawn of september 1944. And reports that the porn bunny told him that for all the difficulties, isolation from friends for life, these were the happiest years of her life. Readers of the wars i have seen will not believe them, of course.In case they have read stein's other autobiographies, the know-how will not worry about the accuracy of sevareid's report. Stein prided himself on the fact that he never looked miserable. In the universal autobiography, she writes: “i never had anything unhappy about an unhappy childhood. What's the use of having some unfortunate detail", and if you write about yourself or about someone, it sounds like you are very unhappy and very bitter, but generally speaking, various living people have quite a fun time in life. . . . Any life you look at seems to be unhappy, yet any life lived is quite cheerful, and whatever happens, it remains so. Whatever happens, it doesn't stop and is undoubtedly the most forgetful of those unconscious things that stein allowed herself to say. Perhaps a girl whose mother died of tumors when she was fourteen needs calluses after years of suffering. It was something that, for so long probably, began as a defensive posture that became an ingrained characteristic: stein's uncanny cheerfulness was perhaps her most prominent character trait. In the wars i have seen, she is forced to give up her posture and admit her deep unhappiness. It is no coincidence that the use of the term "medieval" to describe the dark time in which she lives, "medieval" means that the existence and the place and the crop that you grow, your wife and children, are all uncertain. They can be driven away or taken away, burned or framed behind, that's what it is to be medieval, ”she associates this phrase with the black and terrible days of adolescence, where the fear of death prevailed.” Stein, writing the wars i have seen at an age when the fear of death is more justified than at fourteen (she is soon seventy, and she will die of stomach tumors in 1946, at seventy-two), thinks that if this would not have died, the earth would have been covered today, and i, how could i have had time to arise and try as best i can, try not to be me, after all, i am needed only against the fact that as much as something, so why not die, and again not a thing, not a thing that can please, not a thing. But in particular the visible threats of war, but not the veiled threats of mortality, are for stein the subject and object of her horror. Over and over she writes about personal fear and dependency on others in the face of an evil she can't imagine but understands on some level. By the time stein met with sevareid, this point gave her more than a vigor that may have clouded her memories of the five years of ordeal she was subjected to. The "plot" of the wars i've seen, if we can use that phrase to describe its narrative trajectory , in fact there is a transition from stein's hysterical despair, alternating with rationalization, to hope, alternating fear, to unbridled ecstatic joy when liberation comes. In a period of despair, she writes: “now that here in france, when we all thought that young people were protected, they are now all being taken away, well, so it is, shakespeare was rights. It's all like that." The process of her constant themes is the deportation of young frenchmen to forced places in germany. These deportations, of course, caused excruciating anxiety among the villagers - mom and dad, the brothers and sisters of young people, and the people themselves, but one cannot help but assume that such measures also presented stein with the specter of the fact that she agreed to happen. Her and toklas. When stein reports the absurd advice she gave to a group of young people who were about to be sent to our country, she tells them to "study" the germans, "learn their language and get acquainted with their literature, take care of themselves as a tourist and not as a prisoner" - one can only think that she was imagining her way into her own possible predicament and whistling in parallel in the dark. The betrayals and denunciations she hears about during the long daily walks she takes with her personal dog in search of additional food have a similar personal resonance. She and toklas are at the mercy of the villagers, who at any time can pass them off as americans and jews. But the villagers never do that—apparently they are as in love with stein as the world war i soldiers who started her cabs and changed tires. Stein's growing willingness to keep her attention closing in reality, it takes place in tandem and of course, under the influence of the turning wave against the germans. By september 1943, you began to see that the allied victory was only a matter of time. Life never seems unreal to stein. In september 1943, she sees things with great clarity: Everyone wants to be free. . .You can’t control, threaten, direct, restrain, coerce, fear, manage, people don’t want any of this, they want to feel free, the word “discipline”, “forbidden”, “investigated” and “imprisoned” instills awe and fear with all our hearts, our hackers don't want to be afraid no more than it is required in ordinary life, where you want to earn a living, and be afraid of want, disease and death. . . The only thing any reasonable resident of an apartment wants right now is to remain free, to remain alone, to live his life as if he could, but not be watched, controlled and feared, just a little, no. stein's story about the winter of 1943-1944 - the fifth winter of the war, "just one winter too much" - conveys the fatigue of waiting for the end, and besides this, the fear of a dangerous wounded beast that the germans served. (“Is it worse to be scared than bored, that is the question,” remarks the screen at one point.) She tells stories told to her by people she meets on her walks: their usual subject. A moment of comic relief is offered by a young girl who informs her of a woman from burg who has just given birth to six puppies. “I may not have said, but yes, she did. . . At times like these women console themselves with dogs, and it happens, of course, dogs don't survive, they are kept in museums, but it doesn't happen like that i said, oh yes, she said in burg once this happened to a nun, and, when the doctor came to see her, the dog would not let him near the structure.” Another walk gives a scene of melancholic poetry: stein was walking high up the mountain, and then, going down, after it already gets dark and it starts to snow and sleet, small groups of men pass by her - boys and girls who hid in the forest. Mountains, rather than being sent to germany, and descend from their icy lairs to eat and spend the night with trusting relatives. When winter finally ends and invasion seems inevitable, the word "poppies ” begins to appear more and more often in stein’s text. Narrative in the new millennium strides forward like a stream no longer clogged with fallen trees and debris. There is a landing in normandy, and the germans stop behaving like conquerors and begin to reveal their cowardice and vulgarity. The villagers openly ridicule them. But in the event that five days after landing, stein and toklas receive a letter from the swiss consul in lyon, "responsible for american tastes, inviting them to apply for repatriation," we chuckled, saying that this was optimism. Naturally, the american authorities, not really understanding what it means to exist in an occupied country, ask you to write down your religion, your property, along with it, its value, as if someone would do this while the germans are in the country and able to receive letters and study. Them if they want to. There is a position in the american authorities that they are actually in a hurry with these facts, but i think that even the americans will feel the same way, keep quiet until the germans leave, just, of course, turn into a possum insofar as can. "Drop your religion" is the closest stein comes to the point. Not dulled by "the wars i've seen" although she secretly identifies with the persecuted jews, she openly distances herself from the hairs on her skin there are even passages adjacent to anti-semitism, such as her bizarre claim that the jewish "public instinct" is the real basis for the persecution of the chosen people." As the book progresses, this kind of service becomes less and less. When stein finally finds his true voice, when she is not worth fighting for here and now, receding in folly, the book became almost unbearably gripping and touching.% Of the daily liberation of paris: It was just like the fourth of july in my youth in the san joaquin valley, it was just as hot, and we all went at the same time that paris was liberated to lay flowers at the monument to the soldiers, it had long been draped with flags and poppies marched along the main street of culot, and after that everyone stood at attention and sang the marseillaise. . . . I call them maquis after my heart, that's what they were when they were always dangerous, they had to get weapons, they had to transport them and they had to hide them, and they had to do sabotage, and all the time a fairly large part of their neighbors were not at all in them believed, and there were builders, stationmasters, officials, tailors, hairdressers, anyone, not a single person knew, besides, of course, and some of them looked rather tired, but mine were all happy, all the flag on their shoulders. . . .Paris was received at noon, and by eight o'clock all of france were laying wreaths at the monument to their soldiers, since, of course, there is one in the smallest village, honneur aux maquis, and it is said that the americans are in aix-les-bains only twenty kilometers from here. . When stein meets his first americans, “how people talked and how much we patted each other the american way, and i was hired to know where they came from, where they go and where they were born. In the last war we got acquainted with our first american soldiers, and the translation was wonderful, but nothing like that. . . . We went to look at their car, a jeep, and i expected the person to be somewhat smaller, however it remained quite large and such people said if i wanted to ride, and i said, i bet i want to ride.” Stein invites two american soldiers to his home: “here are the first americans to the maximum became in the house with our company, it is impossible to believe that only 3 weeks ago the germans were still on the beach and always felt like masters, it remained wonderful. . . . All that i can tell about this is wonderful, and i said that you agree to spend the night in beds where german officers slept six weeks ago, wonderful, dear sir, absolutely wonderful. How the representatives of humanity spoke that night. . . And if we were happy, we would meet completely and sincerely happy and completely emotional.” “The writing in wars i've seen is great,” said ed burns. With a simple air of surprise at a party in a similar house in february. He said that he took the book in preparation for your talks, and forgot, or perhaps also did not understand how wonderful it is. Dido and rice echoed his surprised admiration. All three of them prefer stein's "real" writing to "spectator" writing, and when i admitted - as i do regularly - that "real" writing didn't suit me, they looked at me ruefully. "Well, you're honest," dido said affectionately in one of these situations. At your time, talking about a book by thornton wilder and gertrude stein, i casually said that i liked the city, and dido looked at me gloomily. Is that old-fashioned sentimental for you? I have asked. “Uh-huh,” she said, and shuddered. Under these circumstances, i feel like someone who ordered a cheeseburger at lutes. Burns has just returned from paris with huge research trophies. Before the trip, he asked if he was in any way able to help me in paris, and i asked if he could not predict someone - maybe a graduate student - who could receive a copy of bernard's transcript from the authorities. Fai's trial. I knew from contemporary newspaper reports that fahi was convicted of persecuting french freemasons, but i wanted to know in more detail what he did and whether the sentence was just. A french authority in the vichy period called pierre assoulin, to whom burns referred me earlier whom i spoke on the proposed number, said that, in his opinion, the protocol of the trial was classified, but gave me the name of a government agency. Able to call for declassification along with the address of a specialized library that would have information about fai. Burns was unable to locate the graduate student, but wrote down the name and address of the government makers and library. A couple of weeks after his visit to paris, burns sent daido and me the first of a series of particularly excited emails about fai's military record, which, having awakened an instinct for research, he decided to investigate himself. A visit to a specialized library led burns to a candidate named lucien sabah, a french interior ministry police officer who wrote a book called vichy political politics: the secret societies service, which reports on the persecution of freemasons in gruesome detail. Burns also guessed about fai's boyfriend, heidan de roussel, who was a gestapo agent and ran his own periodical and magazine about fai's activities for the germans between 1940 and 1944. Small edition) linking fahi to the gestapo turned out to be even more damning than sabah's polemical book. Burns told me that in the situation when he was interviewing fai, he said: “few people died because of me. I was not left responsible for anyone's death.” But now burns has learned that fai is responsible for many deaths. The prosecutor at fai's trial (sabah saw the transcript) presented documents showing that due to fai's diligence from naming names in accordance with pétain's 1940 order to ban secret societies, dossiers were developed on one hundred and seventy thousand freemasons, sixty thousand were investigated, six thousand were imprisoned, nine hundred and ninety were exiled, and five hundred and forty were shot or died in camps.(Burns and daido put the nazi persecution of freemasons in the widest possible context in a specific essay in the appendix: "fearing religious tolerance, political compromise, trust in local authority, and the luxuries of italy, spain, and portugal to the soviet union and freemasonry banned by communist china.") I do a lot of things, they are not always pleasant, interesting under any circumstances. . . . The marshal is very nice to me, and they say that in the near future they will appoint me a minister ”(unpublished letter from yale university, italics mine). Today one can understand how unpleasant these rarities were. “I am beginning to learn more about this disgusting someone than i want,” wrote burns from paris. “However, i doubt that gertrude knew anything about it. In fai, she probably saw only an old friend who helped her so much, even gained the confidence to go on a lecture tour. Alice toklas clearly didn't know either. Over the years leading up to her escape, she had worked hard to free fai from prison, just as hard as she and stein had worked to free the lieutenant from her dream home in bilignin. But the powerful people (in france and hollywood studios), whom she tried to interest in her business, did not touch her. (One of these, donald sutherland, a professor of classics at the colorado institute, whom toklas approached with an offer to find fai a teaching hacker in the united states of america if he were released, wrote in 1968 in an essay entitled "the address of alice b. Toklas." I never met bernard fahy, but i knew a few of his friends who, with the exception of alice, despised him. He had as many personal as political enemies, because he had a bad tongue"). Will be able to achieve the impossible - toklas did not have the opportunity. Only in this case did the catholic church consider it safe to intervene - burns believes that the stalk and the appointment to the university of fribourg were planned largely by the church - the "miracle" (as toklas called it) worked. in one of in toklas' mailing lists of pleading (this time to a prominent woman in chicago society named bobsie goodspeed), she wrote that stein's feelings for fai forced her to work to save him. This restriction was "sacred trust". In a letter dated november 1946 to carl van vechten, she allowed herself the following: “he is in fresne prison after his release, accused of hating the communists (who do not do this), speaking out against the freemasons (who would not be ready to do this in france), hating englishmen (most of the french), who hate jews (louis vuitton - one?)". (Toklas didn't know what, when sutherland asked van vechten "what i should have thought about bernard fahey when i thought he had to be shot right away, but alice was of a completely different opinion", van vechten replied: "i can't to tolerate bernard. And not knowing bobsy goodspeed, fi described her to stein in a 1934 letter as "beautiful, stupidly intelligent lady evanston, wife of the chief trustee and mistress of the wife of the president of the university of chicago". Toklas outlived stein by twenty ages and stepped out of her own role as ghostly companion to be a character in her own right. The young men who used to make the pilgrimage to stein now made their way to the caustic, thinner and more modest toklas. “Being alone” demonstrates that she is an excellent letter writer, which is impossible to say about stein, who simply did not bother saving herself for half an hour of “real” writing. Towards the end of her life, toklas converted to catholicism, spurred on by fahi (now pardoned and returned to the french capital) and madame. Azam. Ed burns told me that the reason for toklas' conversion was her idea that she could reunite with stein in heaven only if she did. "What made her believe that stein would be able to in heaven?" I have asked. “Because stein was the old testament,” burns said. “She would have been there with abraham, moses, and elijah. They didn't need to be converted." As stein liked to say, i wonder if such a point is true. When erik sevareid met stein in culose in 1944 year, this was not his first meeting with her. He visited her in paris in 1937 and was, as he writes in a "not so wild dream," "deeply impressed by the finest presentation of a speech i have ever heard, with the exception, but only of schnabel, the pianist. Sevareid continues: She has an amazingly clear and germinal mind, and she masks exhaustive awareness with a simplicity of rapid speech that misleads the casual listener. . . . In writing, her words seem bizarre and difficult simply, in the case when she herself reads them aloud, everything is absolutely clear, natural, and accurate. She has already finished her version of faust.She walked heavily back and forth in her office in front of her dark picasso and read the script aloud to me, carried away by her words and bursting into ringing laughter, which at times took possession of her so that the porn bunny stopped to dry her eyes. She was more comfortable in slushy weather and an excellent person. However, when the conversation turned to politics, sevareid considered stein less remarkable: She could not think politically at all . Thus she assured me: “Hitler will never go to war. He poses no danger. You see, he is a german romantic. He is ready for the illusion of victory and power, the glory and glamor of it, but the holder cannot bear the blood and struggle bordering on getting it. No, mussolini, this is a dangerous man, because he is an italian realist. He will never stop at anything." The porn bunny didn't understand fascism; she did not realize that the attitudes and imperatives of large mass movements are much more powerful and more important than the individuals involved in them. She knew people, but not people. But by the time she wrote the wars i've seen, stein seemed to finally understand. “I didn’t understand before, but now i begin to understand,” she writes towards the end of the book. She recently recounted a street quarrel with one of the "decayed aristocrats who always believe that the new regime will give them a chance and are angry above all at the defeat of the germans." A few pages earlier, she had written about the many die-hard reactionaries who believe that every poppy is a terrorist, there are such beautiful neighbors, and these crafts bother me, because in the end people get angry, and some kind of cure can happen to them, and we love them very much." These charming neighbors,” appears in the questionnaire, were members of the croix de feu, a pernicious right-wing company founded by veterans of the first world war with whose views stein previously agreed and in which she had many friends before belli. When in 1937 her friend w. G. Rogers wrote to object to her proposal for the spanish civil war, she replied from belly: "i have interested all our french friends here, who are all croix de feu, by telling them how you enter spain, and continued to write page after page of reactionary nonsense. But now she has corrected course. “When political issues were clarified in the eventual final balance of power during the second world war,” rogers writes in his memoirs, “miss stein became as clear as anyone about whom there can be no two ways.” About such, it had to be a democracy, the listed could not become totalitarianism. Earlier, in his memoirs, describing the seeds of american corn, he annually sent to stein and toklas for planting in bilinin's garden, he emphasizes how, during the spanish civil war, “i told her that i was convinced that none of my honest loyalist corn is foreseen to be filed with any of her friends of the wrong political beliefs. In the universal autobiography, stein recalls the reproach and cheekily writes: "we had corn, kiddy" - stein's pet nickname for rogers - "who sends it to us will insistently say that this day we can't give it to any fascists, but why not, if the fascists like it and you also liked the fascists, so i said please send us non-political corn. But 6 years later, in a letter to rogers in vichy france, stein humbly admits his mistake. About the corn that she plants in her private garden, she now writes: "and the visitor has the opportunity to be sure that some kind of film is related to corn." After the arrival of the americans in kulo, "i began to be called posthumously fear," stein writes in the epilogue to wars i've seen. She reflects on how, during the occupation, the demands of ordinary life largely kept fear in check, but today, when american soldiers somehow ask wishes and hear what state others are in, you certainly know this, but now you personally have time to feel the risk and with that said, i was scared to the max." What happened to others. Again, stein almost speaks, but not much. Toklas never did that. Although stein occasionally referred to toklas as "my little jew" and "my little jew" in the engaging poems she wrote about her personal "marriage" to toklas, toklas herself never referred to her (or stein's) jewishness. All twenty years of her widowhood, she behaved as if it was not difficult. How stein would have settled down in the post-uschwitz world if she had remained alive, we are, of course, not prepared to know. Judging by her chronic inconsistency, we can assume that the path of the pussy would not be her own.

FRICH'INVESTIGATION

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