ISAAC ROSENFELD
21
him if he takes sugar in his tea, and he'll tell you it's of considerable
significance to a democracy....
I've never known anyone so much afraid of life as Randall Jarrell.
He attacks the North: there's no grass
&
trees; then, people are
unfriendly; next, murderous; insensate, unloving, without tradition or
community. By this time it's clear, he couldn't stand the competition;
he prefers the smaller pond down South. Well enough. But everyone 's
got to be friend
&
family to him. The nonsense
I
"Run your hand across
the map from down around here clear across in an arc
&
up to the
West-that's where all the friendly people live." Of course, the South is
bad on labor
&
trade unions , which is unfortunate, but still. ... And
while he talks', about this or anything, his face fall s into a hundred
creases: the smiling Bugs Bunny teeth, the puckered anxious forehead,
the lines of anxiety twisting his mouth
&
graven into the corners of his
eyes. He can't stand interruption; abides it with held breath, with the
spinster school marm 's impatient patience, hurt. Cal Lowell at one
point made a joke
&
he said, "Are you really interes ted or are you just
making conversation?" He was talking about a house. We all had to
reassure him we were really interested
&
he went on in a tight voice
until he could make a joke of his own
&
let the hostility come out.
He's always saying the wrong thing. To Ransom, who spoke of
getting an article on Chekhov from Bentley, " He showed me that a year
ago. It was too long for
The Nation. PR
rejected it too." Then, when
he realized he'd said too much: "He didn't send it to you first, because
he didn 't want to force it on you. You know-in the family." Again to
Ransom, when R. was speaking of a gay old Billy goat of a man he
knew who said to R
&
his friend C .-"When I see a pretty woman, I go
&
take her." "We're not at all worried," said C. "And C's wife," put in
Randall, "is a very attractive woman." His wife, Macki e, gave him a
mild, reproachful look, mild so it shouldn't show to others. He shook
his head, as if to say, "Never mind, darling, it doesn 't matter." But his
forehead was creased
&
his face wrinkled. Again, when he had two girls
over to his house, poetry students, both lilac brooms. The short, stout
one like a strong broom for a thick carpet, the tall , skinny one, a long–
handled broom for reaching in under the radiator. (And she had huge
teeth, just like his ,
&
a short upper lip, which, she is aware, always
curls up to show her teeth
&
she tries to pull it down.) Their hair gives
the broomlike impression. They wear it straight down
&
fanning out,
stiff as straw. Randall got to talking about a girl in hi s class, how ugly
