BOO KS
695
from 1916 to 1932, from Hart Crane at 17 until his death at 33. It is
easy with
this
volume to be reminded of Keats's letters, and if Crane's
are not quite so extraordinary as that the same must be said for most
of English prose.
Poor Crane-a genius from Cleveland-with his little pair of par–
ents, or his pair of little parents, so squeezing
in
their anxiety and ego–
tism,
so screeching
in
their divorce, the mother rather beached and
given to a humble mysticism (Christian Science) , the father, dazed and
busy, a business success but not really. Crane's parents are curdling and
outrageous by their very multiplicity
in
America, their typicality; they
are as real and to be expected, this young couple, as Cleveland itself.
Vast numbers of people under middle age now have parents like this
and are these persons' only child. Hart Crane was merely a bit in the
vanguard by getting there somewhat early. And the son himself, a poet,
homosexual, drunkard, a suicide. One had not imagined much could
be added to this macabre, but neat, biography. However, what the letters
amazingly suggest is the disturbing possibility that Crane had a happy
life.
Naturally, he was often much annoyed by his parents, but there
is no doubt he was always much fascinated by them. He wrote
this
middling pair an extremely generous number of lively and often lengthy
letters, a source of amazement when we consider Crane's bumming
about, drinking, and the dizzy life he had made for himself away from
home. In the end he was returning from Mexico, not to New York, but
to Chagrin Falls, Ohio, planning fantastically to "be of some help" to
his stepmother in the shrunken state of solid assets which became known
at his father's death.
Contrary to the guilt feelings usually surmised Crane seems to have
"enjoyed"-no other word occurs to me-his homosexuality, taking
about this the most healthy attitude possible under the circumstances.
There is not the slightest suggestion in the letters that he worried about
his inclinations or was trying to reform; if anything troubles
him
on
this score it is continence, the lack of opportunity. For what it may be
worth, we remark that his suicide came at a time when he was involved,
and more than a little luke-warmly, with a woman. "You know you're
welcome-more than that, my dear, to make this your future head–
quarters. I miss you
mucha, mucha, mucha!
But I don't think that either
of us ought to urge the other into anything but the most spontaneous
and mutually liberal arrangements."
Crane also "enjoyed" alcohol-his letters are heathenish
in
their
failure to express intentions to liberate himself from this pleasure. He
could, however, be remorseful over his drunken actions and there
is
no
