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PARTISAN REVIEW
isfied "hmmph." Such slackness would not have been permitted on his
watch.
Once in a while 1would ask Mr. Phillips if he agreed with what a par–
ticular writer had to say. Mostly, though, 1 simply read what he had cho–
sen. When he announced he'd had enough, 1 didn't argue. Sometimes he
would ask me
to
read from a manuscript submitted to
Partisan Review
for editorial consideration and then ask my opinion. Here, for the most
part, we tended to agree. More than once 1 found myself reading pub–
lished articles or memoirs by writers whose political opinions 1 found
far from congenial. Mr. Phillips seemed not to notice any change in my
voice, even though 1 liked to believe 1 was conveying less than whole–
hearted enthusiasm. We did not discuss politics. (I'm sure he knew 1was
a soft-hearted liberal.) Nonetheless, when John McCain won a surprise
victory in New Hampshire we were both briefly elated. There may have
been something in McCain that appealed to him, or he may simply have
been pleased
to
be reminded that it is possible to defy the odds.
Occasionally Mr. Phillips would ask about my life-my husband, our
house in the country, my parents-and 1 never mistook this for mere
politeness. He was curious. 1 read to him through my father's stay in the
hospital for internal bleeding and through my mother's successful treat–
ment for metastatic cancer. 1 missed the Tuesday of
9/II
but walked
across Central Park three days later to read to him. From the window
of his study 1 saw a high rise go up, partially blocking my view of the
Park. Finally, when it seemed as if this could go on forever, it was time
for me to move on. My agent had submitted a proposal for a new biog–
raphy
to
my publisher, who was asking for a strict two-year deadline.
1 waited until the end of our session to tell him.
It
was early Febru–
ary, and Edith was out of town. He did not take the news well. As
always, his response was direct. "Oh, no" is what he said. As always, 1
began to equivocate. 1 told him 1 would call Edith later. (I never did,
fearing she might persuade me to reconsider.) He thanked me for read–
ing to him and 1 promised
to
return when 1 had some free time. There
were no tears at our parting. To the end, he was firm about what he
wanted. His will was formidable. 1 might be ambivalent, but he never
was. Confined to that hospital bed, he could be exigent and acerbic,
even intransigent. His opinions might not always be temperate or his
choice of reading felicitous, but
to
say he was admirable does not do
him justice. He had qualities, and he also had great courage. 1 guess you
could say 1 had a soft spot for William Phillips.
