Alysse Aallyn

Category: Creativity

  • Embattled Love – the diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    18 Sun Jan 81


    Up early to take Granma to Quaker Meeting. Very boring. Elder from my first wedding came up and spoke to me – I didn’t recognize her! It was Grandmother Day – spent the afternoon with Mother Louise who forgets who everyone is after 20 mins. In the evening long ecstatic phone gossip with Avril.

    Mon 19 Jan 81
    Jam packed day – filed grades at Guilders, Financial Aid lecture at Fordham then drinks at World Trade Center with T & Old roommate. Tues depressing orientation at Fordham – can’t get “life experience” credits till you have 20 Fordham credits! Decided to apply for guaranteed student loan – T will be happy. Considering Study Abroad in Eng! After I get pregnant that will be no longer possible. Letter from Book Forum asking me to come in – they might have something for me to do! That would be the first thing I haven’t had to claw for – its welcome. Set up apt for next Wed.
    Bad thriller by Stanton Forbes & good one by Anne Morice.

    22 Jan Thurs 81
    Wonderful women’s service at Trinity – new minister Joan Platt – like her very much. Completely relaxed about me sobbing my way through the Nicene Creed – “it gets some people that way!”


    Went to the Fordham party with Donna – Dr Dohrn seems to think I could be pulled out of the Excel program fairly soon. Introduced Donna to T’s old roommate – she was nervous and he was supercilious. I give up matchmaking. T (due in ½ hr driving the ’65 Chrysler Imperial from Phila) said people create their own hells of loneliness.

    Sat 24 Jan 81
    Off to Trenton library with T – he studies and I enjoy Caroline Gordon’s How to Read A Novel. We look at washers and driers – you really can’t get anything for under $700 so we buy a heated bed-pad instead. I read The Denatured Novel – then we have chicken soup in bed watching Desk Set.

    Thurs 29 Jan 81
    I like the women’s service even better than the discussion afterwards.


    Stress interview with Book Forum – wanted me to “throw out 1,000 ideas really fast.” Became completely tongue tied – hadn’t expected that – thought we’d talk about what THEY need. As a result I looked like an idiot. Could barely smile. Awful. I came up with my “Impure Women” concept – Mansfield, Plath, Woolf – that was it. Sounded tired even to me. Obviously never hear from them again. Imagine me being taken for an academic! Hilarious.


    Fast registrations at both Fordham & Guilders – only had to pay ½ when I said I was getting a loan.
    Dinner with Charlene but I rushed home missing T – it was 12:10 and he waited up for me. Delirious marital sex all over the place.

    Fri 30 Jan 81
    Terrible arguments with T about Episcopalianism vs Quakerism. He’s not looking forward to The Episcopalian dance.

    Sat 31 Jan 81
    T in his wedding tuxedo – me in a blue bridesmaid’s dress at the Episc. Dance. I especially enjoyed meeting Joan Platt’s husband Peter. Also the new curate – slight pretty girl. (The poor Catholics! We have a deep bench.) Connected with my parents’ old friends the Macdonalds. Bob McD hilariously funny. T had a great time; no fighting, no biting. We left at 11.

    Sun 1 Feb 81
    Met T’s brother Dom on train – T in “correction mode.” He never does this at home. I called him Mr. Persnickety.


    Wait a solid hr at Lois’ house till we can leave for Chadd’s Ford. I eat too many cookies while marveling at Lois’ ability to estrange people. She goes on and on about how the Garden of Eden is a birth myth – this has never been noticed in the history of time by anyone but her. We don’t argue because that would trigger an endless “scene” – she would make us sit there for an eternity unable to move while she beats us into submission.


    That’s the kind of audience she prefers – cowed. Ricardo wiggles his eyebrows at his behind her back, gesturing “Please don’t say anything so we can just get out of here and have a nice day.” She goes on and on in her baby-girl voice while batting her eyelashes until you want to smack her. The worst thing that could ever happen to her in life would be to meet herself – neither would ever give ground until they both died, like a Greek myth. If she read any actual books she would not be so impressed with her own ideas – she hasn’t gotten through a whole one the entire time I’ve known her. She’s still reeling from the Deep Truths of The Road Less Travelled – gave everyone copies so they can see how terrible others are – it’s never her.


    Finally we get out of there and take both grandmothers out to dinner in Chadd’s Ford to celebrate their birthdays and have a very nice meal. I’m bored solid so eat too much.


    Reading the last vol of Kathleen Raine’s autobio – she’s having a rough time with Christianity and there’s no comfort I can give her.

    Tues. 4 Feb 81
    First day of class both teaching & taking. Met with Fordham advisor who wants me to switch out of Excel and pursue a double major – maybe philosophy! Whoa there!


    My teaching class is all babies with glazed eyes – my fiction seminar wrangles about the Death of the Novel. Very dispiriting. They are excited by horrible shit sans character or plot. Plot is contrived and character is MUTABLE. I need to stop reading thrillers – must learn to like Robbe-Grillet.

    Wed 5 Feb 81
    Miss T – haven’t seen him since 9. Gave my class a really easy test they could pass they all failed. Blue, blue blue.


    Women’s group wonderful on the other hand – I adore Joan. Want to ask her to christen our children.

    Sat 7 Feb 81
    Spent $359 on bathroom floor tiles. It had to be done.


    Dinner at the neighbors who wanted to show off their friend Jon Purvis a famous journalist. I got too drunk – T has forgiven me but I can’t forgive myself. Bad day all day. The sorrow of teaching English to the deprived – taking their money and flunking them – is always with me. Don’t like this system. Tried moving novel into first person voice – something my class can respect. Wonderfully cheering call with Avril – she is so good.

    Mon 9 Feb 81
    Off to library in Chrysler – got a flat tire – had to wait an hour for AAA – missed appt with man to hook up tiny washer dryer we are installing in dining room closet. Feel squeezed & helpless.

    Discouraged by mess in house. Frustration the most difficult emotion to deal with. Not impressed by Ross Macdonald: “There’s nothing worse than an ugly woman with a gun.” Really? Bid of $1000 for wiring & plumbing. We’re not paying Lois for rent, she’s not compensating us for improving her property. I try not to care or keep track. Bills bills bills and soon it will be tax time while every job prospect for T melts mysteriously away.

    18 Feb 81
    Coming out of depression. IRS is auditing me – Toss being completely calm and supportive. I have an attorney! He will represent me! Costume dinner at Snowbury was waste space but we had fun wearing the costumes & we met some interesting people. (Mayor & his girlfriend, a lawyer.)

    Weekend at StormFall where I officially give up on fiction and surrender to poetry. Offer to help Gretchen Fuchs find a publisher for her book. I can’t believe we won’t be successful, she’s so good. Toss pantingly bathroom.

    20 Feb 81
    My depression climaxes and I call in sick – feel like an ugly hopeless worthless slob. Housework all day until I become depressed over how ancient and broken everything is. So desperate I try prayer. The cure lies in orderliness I’m sure.

    Sun 22 Feb 81
    One cure for depression is reading my diaries – the horrors of Ryder, Devon, Jervaze. Toss so wonderful by comparison. More relief offered by Anne Sexton’s poems.

    Mon 23 Feb 81
    Feel so unequal to everything. Trying to please too many people with my writing – obvious cure: please only myself.


    T asked if I would mind him working for the govt – prosecutor or IRS. I said no – if he wasn’t bored. He said he’s never been as close to another person as he is to me – relief. I was considering myself a hopeless case. Dancing the only job where I didn’t have the fear of being “found out” because I knew I was good at it.

  • Embattled Love – the diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Train to NYC – Tues 16 Dec 80 – 10:05 am


    First article about psychoanalysis (New Yorker) much better than second one. If only one had endless money & time! Think about Avril’s fear – that pain exhumed will rise up and annihilate us. Neglect PLUS fear of abandonment are Mom & Dad’s legacy!


    So many unanswered questions. When Mom seemed not to hear us was she really in a trance or just pretending? Dissociative state from childhood abuse? Genevieve and I have discussed this – we were completely unable to get her attention. She seemed frozen. Didn’t even flicker. Where’d she go? She was raised in isolated conditions with no Mom, (not allowed to have friends over or bring them to her house.)


    She was always “overwhelmed” and could alleviate her guilt by smothering Avril. She clings to Daddy like a lifebuoy, like she’s HIS child.


    Telling his children we were going to be “poor” when we moved to Africa was probably a mistake. He just wanted to instill frugality but it was a bombshell in a child’s world and certainly not accurate. NOT told about Uncle Charles’ inheritance or Dad’s portfolio. In Brockton public school my experience with poverty was intimate & scary. That friend who slept on the floor, whose parents had beer but no furniture. It hurt physically, like hunger.


    I dealt with it by sleepwalking & hypochondria about blindness & disease (not too paranoid in Africa.) Parents Victorian in their ability to refuse information. Avril’s isolation from the rest of us almost too painful to recall.


    Dad sneered at and made fun of our schooling, friends, religion, parents. No system was “good” enough for us. He said news & history was lies & propaganda. TV & movies were crass manipulation and teachers were ignorant. You can’t just say that and then send kids back to school! No expertise allowed or acknowledged. Parents always mildly surprised when we got jobs.


    I recall my religious longings quite clearly. First I thought ‘God’ was a dirty word because people acted so weird about it. Brockton had no Friends meeting and the Methodist Sunday School we attended a few times (Mom and Dad dropped us off, didn’t attend the church) was confusing and meaningless. When Mom read us the 23rd psalm, we jeered at it the way we’d been taught and she cried! Then of course Dad yelled at us!


    Being unwillingly in “the vanguard” certainly feels like being an outcast! Don’t know how to help Avril’s depression – my badgering psychoanalytic/spiritual letters aren’t welcome. We were fated to follow the pattern of Dad’s growth, whatever that might be.


    Last Thanksgiving when we played the game “psychiatrist”. Mom said the year she’d like to live over was the summer of 1958, cruising the Georgian Bay. The closest we got to perfect family happiness. A weirdly frozen unchangingness. Isolated from everyone! Produces an anguished Sisyphean yearning that’s with me still.


    I did better with the loneliness. Avril fears to re-live it. Mom actually carries it around inside her like a dead baby!


    My curiosity: what future did they envision for us? They acted so weird about basic mental health – “too bad you’re that way” instead of encouraging “good” choices. Because there was no good path? When we followed their with husbands, children, they didn’t react with any particular glee. Julio & Kent were run through the wringer and would state right now Mom and Dad loathed them.
    Both my weddings were icy, much as I tried to rewrite the family. I think they worked out the personal animosities of their relationship over our quivering live bodies.


    Dad’s insistence that the only college possible was Chevenix, the only belief system acceptable was Quakerism so weirdly rigid. We could never “discover” anything, it had already been discovered.
    I think our efforts at crawling into adulthood were actively repulsed. We clocked in, admiring of them and their “success”, allowing things to be done for us. Behind the pain lies rage; both endlessly intensifying. Gen & I fought back – Avril & Merrill endlessly victimized.


    Don’t want to see Ezra today, don’t feel I have anything new to talk about. I could discuss his book – if I’d read it.


    4 more days of school. Tolerable, definitely. Think I’ll start a conscious course of praying for Avril – see what happens.

    10:25 AM Thurs 18 Dec 80
    Should be correcting papers but can’t face it yet. Looking forward to a breather from school. Wish I could go to church every day but there’s nothing nearby. Hoping it will be different when I go to Fordham. Paulist church too big – I liked Church of the Resurrection on E 77th.


    Pretending to look at the floating countryside I eavesdrop on conversations behind me – art dealers: “Are you ever asked about your credentials?” Answer, “No, never. They only ask about credentials when you’re applying for low-paying jobs.”


    Christmas shapes up interestingly. Caroling in Haverford Sun, Christmas eve with the Brintons till 4, then dinner with Louise. Christmas Day with Lois. Avril 26th and Genevieve 27th. Douglas cocktail party 28th. Shawn Kobler to dinner sometime after that.

    NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS

    1. Get up earlier, go running with T
    2. Write in diary every day – match flow of life to flow of thought.
    3. Go to church oftener

    Christmas Day, noon – 80
    An extravagant morning of love with my honey brings me out of the depression I’ve had since Mon. Came back from an awful day of school to hear about Toss’s interview with his father’s lawyer friend – no dice. T comes from the wrong law school, nobody’s hiring. They won’t even hire from Temple – they recruit at “premier” schools in junior year. T. feels certain he wants to start out soloing. I’m scared of the insecurity but I’m not pregnant and we have no rent – it’s the perfect time. Then T said he wanted to buy a word processor which we fought about for the rest of the night with T becoming so angry he almost strangled me. Nightmare visions of my first marriage kept floating in front of my eyes.

    Capital can only be spent on state of the art equipment to impress everyone – then we sit back and wait for the money to roll in. Which it never does. Why not rent a word processor?

    He plans to open his office in his mother’s house. I think we ought to wait till he has some business first. I offered to help. “No, Alysse,” he said coldly, “I’m not going into law partnership with you.” Whew!

    He pointed out the “thousands” we’re losing because I’m going to school, not working – dirty pool! Took it back later. If Mom & Dad weren’t paying for school HOW would I justify it to myself?

    He says that makes him feel like shit – i.e he wishes I was POORER. I said he really needs to settle something with Lois about the rent – nothing’s formalized. If the plan is free-lancing and risk, she’s an investor in his future. God, to have $8,000 a year of my own it seems so MINGY. Why can’t I bring that in from writing? Why do I always end up in these trackless wastes?

    10:15 AM Fri Dec 26 – 80
    Excellent Christmas. Part of what made it so good was limited time with everyone except Lois! Wednesday spent one hour with Brintons, one hour with Lois! Then a long scary ride home with a blowout – but it didn’t happen on the ice and Toss was able to change it in record time.


    Yesterday at Brandywine with Lois 3:30-7:30 then again 10-11:30. (A bit much.) Intervening time helping Granma in Haverford put up tree & exchange gifts. T was a perfect love, a divine angel. Much cleaning of the house now to get ready for Avril.

    12:45 AM 30 Dec 80 – Tuesday
    Shouldn’t be joyous about my vacation’s end but I am eager for 81!


    Read Mary Hoxie Jones’ Mosaic of the Sun with a curled lip. Reminds me of Eliz Gray Vining – holier than thou. I think Christians should be spiritually barefoot – ready to shed baggage – test the rope themselves instead of whining about Unwashed Youths and Angry Blacks. Such authorities on other people’s “place”!


    Turned to Wm Pitt Root’s The Storm – excellent, a born poet but heavy going – reading him too fast would give you the bends.


    Now into Emily Dickinson thank GOD. What a joy. You can read her at any pace you choose – she’s available at every level. Her organization is so original, wouldn’t translate at all. What did V. Woolf think? Should have liked & claimed her.


    This burst is result of trying to prepare definitive vol of my own stuff. Sickened by my publications – 25 in 5 years!

    New Year’s Eve 1980
    Tonight incomplete without “last entry.” Last time I tried to write T pulled me away and made love to me.


    This holiday would be unalloyed happiness if it weren’t for the night of the 26th when I drank too much Jack Daniels and threw up. Stupid. Thought I was past that! Kept Avril & T from going to the film we’d planned. But we’ll see it tonight. Somehow makes it less shameful. Glorious private evening – Convict’s Last Meal of roast beef, potatoes au gratin, chestnuts, peas, salad, champagne, coconut custard pie.


    2nd bottle champagne after film if we have stamina.

    1 Jan 81
    Resolution; keep better track of my life in this diary but wish I had a better life to keep track of. Particularly grim holidays while Lois repeatedly attacked Ricardo in front of everyone – people afraid to intervene because she’ll attack THEM (my ideas were called “foolish” and “romantic.”) I tried teasing her by accusing her of “escort beating” while Ricardo murmurs from the corner of the room “I forgive her – She’s been so hurt.”


    Guess what? Lois has no sense of humor. This is my landlady. She wants to rent the Little House at highest dollar – since that’s where our washer/dryer is we need a washer/dryer here.


    No.
    Just no.


    She’s a weird one. When I suggested taking down a mirror so blotchy you can’t see yourself in it (it needs to be resilvered) she burst into tears and Toss attacked ME. She said she was willing however to rebind the first editions – I had to point out that destroys their value!


    So there’s nothing I can say. My job is to clean (and then be criticized for it.) Toss has taken over cleaning the silver because I can’t be bothered to do it “properly”.


    To NYC for preview of Frankenstein – awful – we missed dinner because our train stalled in snow. Playwright overly wedded to novel – death after ludicrous death – not even rescued by special effects. Off to empty little bar Vintages for late supper ruined by Seth who teases Toss mercilessly. It’s the apparent goal of this family to get a scapegoat and ride them to death. Starting to see why Sutton got the hell out – who would stick around for this abuse?


    Ricardo, it seems. And Lois doesn’t respect him one bit for it.


    Boring New Year’s Eve party in Merion – I had high hopes (they were all psychiatrists) but all they talked about was heating bills.


    Got rid of Seth & Susie 4 pm – pizza and wine dinner – delicious lovemaking. Read The Poet – most poems shockingly bad – but there was one poet I liked – Katherine Hanley – so I wrote her a fan letter.


    On the good side: almost finished Pinch of Death. T. is my soul – so good & calm & not provoked at all by Seth who raged against Lois. Ugh. Exams next week.


    Bored to shriek point by Trent’s Last Case.

    2 Jan 81
    One final entry waiting for Sue & Seth to come so we can all catch the 4:25 to NYC.Thinking about male violence. Interesting that Toss doesn’t “realize” he threatens me physically. He says I must know he’d never hit me but when he’s angry he breaks things or grabs me by the throat. I point out I don’t do that! But most men regard women’s statement that they are continuously reminded of the threat of male violence as feminist cant!

    4 Jan 81
    Weather so cold it’s hard to breathe. Toss’s Reed roommate to dinner – watched Murder Once Removed over chestnuts roasted in the hibachi & 2 bots white wine. Struggling with Life & Letters of John Galsworthy.

    5 Jan 81
    To Princeton to do laundry. Bought life of Dorothy Kilgallen and have been glued to it all day. Wretched woman. Hypnotic erosion of all her values.


    Toss confides out checking acct is down to $200. Complete refusal to dislodge capital. Fortunately, I’m expecting $120 this week. NJ Bar prep starts 12th – not soon enough for me.

    6 Jan 81
    Taught my class for the last time. I hate review – it’s hell. Sweating so hard I was afraid to lift my arms. Maria asked good questions – James said he didn’t know anything about writing before – now he does.


    Had to rush to the Whitney to meet Toss & Sutton. Met Sutton’s new flame, widow Pansy Burke – seems nice. She does drop a lot of names.


    Sutton dislikes Hopper. Weird! I feel it’s because Hopper is not romantic enough for him. We had an uproarious dinner at The Palms – nothing “mignon” about my filet – it weighed at least 11 lbs. Wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t eat it. Then brandy at brother Dom’s.


    Get into Princeton 3 AM and our car won’t start. Wrecker (“Mother’s Recovery”) comes at 3:45.
    Sleep till 1 PM then have to rush to catch the 3:05. Did a good story in Writer’s class. I am despised for my “upbeat ending” – feel mistaken for Aurelia Plath: “Keep a song in your heart.” Professor says there are NO happy endings in Great Literature? I say what about Shakespeare’s comedies. He says comedy is not drama by definition. I say what about Jane Austen? His face tells me what he thinks of HER.


    On the train home I reflect on the mysteries of talent. At least 4 in class VERY talented – what will become of us? Possibly: nothing.


    I have an idea for a feminist lit mag when I get home; tell T. If we want to BE published we must publish others. My title is “The Feathered Violin” his is “The Burning Bush.” Ha ha.

    8 JAN 81
    I wake up early to study – making love luxuriously with T when he says “Could you tolerate coitus interruptus for once? I have to call my broker.”


    I rush into class 20 mins late to administer my own exam. Kids not punished for that – what they ARE punished for is me being their teacher – graded by the one supervisor who dislikes me. She flunks all my doubtfuls and Maria who should have gotten through. Requesting retest for Maria.


    Long argument over dinner about language requirements in schools. Toss says I am “hostile” to his ideas. I say women are supposed to empathize & sympathize and HE doesn’t do that to MY ideas so why not say what I really think? This evolves into criticism that I expect him to pay for my education. Why don’t I take out student loans. He can’t borrow on margin for me. I say I’m paying with family money (Capital!) feeling he really wants me to see that I’m not actually “making” money (incontestable.) Now he is rattling dishes angrily downstairs – his turn to wash them.

    13 JAN 81
    Off to Phila where T will request variance so he can have law office in his mother’s house. Says this will make him feel better and I am all for it.


    Lois shows off a property she is longing to develop into an Italianate palace for herself. Warns me to SAY NOTHING about it – she is always worried people are gossiping about her.
    Came home to crisis – frozen water pipe dumps water into living room. T takes a steak knife to the hall ceiling to see where the backup is and finds it.


    Afraid my class is right and my novel is hopeless and can never be shown to anyone: I wrote it “too fast” for it to be any good. 7 yrs bad, 3 months worse. Depression.

  • Embattled Love – the diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    2 Oct 80
    Not pregnant, alas. Period came two weeks late but it came. Hard to keep up with this level of disappointment. BA crisis solved – I can keep teaching as long as I’m WORKING toward BA which is all right with me. Investigating Fordham discover they have a “Math for Poets” class that gets me out of their science requirement! That’s the school for me! Been having good meetings with students lately – finally getting through to some of them. If they pass the essay they can stay in the school – they’re on trial, just like me.

    5 Oct 80 –
    Lois upset with me because I want to sell the piano – I even found a buyer. We could really use the space. But she says she doesn’t want to sell – it’s a boring unspecial upright piano. But a reminder whose house this is. She also told me not to get pregnant before we have health insurance! I smiled and said it seemed my body IS waiting! Did not enjoy the evening so overdrank. Not too badly – just enough to be annoyed at myself.


    Finished Marge Bacons’ Lucretia Mott. A charmed, serene life.
    More laundry, more writing.

    6 Oct 80 –
    A good day – much accomplished. Ordered the most beautiful stationery in Princeton – had to pay extra for colored ink but it’s worth it.


    Asked Toss over after-dinner cigars if he thinks this house will ever be his. He said he thought it was an excellent chance. After all, a farmer farms the land and the whole place desperately needs updating which his mother doesn’t want to pay for. I rhapsodized about adding a stone tower like the Brandywine Museum – he said we’re more likely to be cooking over a sterno pot in a field! Not very confident of his chances for passing the bar apparently! He needs a job because he’s driving me crazy.


    He spent the afternoon rewiring the garage so it can be lit from the house. Anything rather than basic housework which he considers low on thrills. He doesn’t seem to understand how insulting that is to me! However, he’s fine with hiring a cleaning lady which I’ll do the minute I can afford it. Read Love & Work: The Crucial Balance. Distinguishes between “love” oriented people who want to love their work and task oriented people.

    Wed 8 Oct 80 –
    All my emotional eggs are in one basket! Overwhelmed with love for Toss – don’t want anybody else. People come – and then they go – and I’m overjoyed to see the back of them. I’m not sure I even need friends. Disgusted by the world weariness of PD James’ Black Tower. I’ve given up on her. Pity. Everyone else likes her.

    Sat 10 Oct 80 – StormFall Farm
    Absolutely exhausted. Next time Toss suggests coming here I’ll have to tell him my idea of rest & recuperation isn’t cleaning a 7 bedroom mansion! Toss is frenzied about the place. When I asked him who put him in charge he admits he just took over. He lashes himself constantly with imaginary humiliating words he assumes “everyone” is saying. Right now he’s yelling downstairs – some kind of breakthrough with the water system. I’m so tired I could just fall over.

    5:30 PM – Thurs 15 Oct – 80
    Can still be thrown by a bad day. Got so absorbed counseling a student I was 15 mins late to class – now I’m hiding in the library calming myself down with Mary Daly’s Beyond God the Father. Very interesting but kind of naive. Don’t reject airplanes because you hate bombers! How would most men score on the Sermon on the Mount test? But I certainly understand the hopelessness of “institutionalizing” emotionality. Supernature gets us off the gerbil wheel. Too much gerbilling here. Don’t see how I can handle more than a year of this place.


    At least T & I see eye to eye about the housework. I got him to see everyone wants to do “executive” functions, no one wants to do grunt work so we have to share that out. An hour a day would be plenty!

    Fri 17 Oct 80 – On the train
    Just finished May Sinclair’s 3 Sisters. Fascinating & beautiful feminist plot. Can’t think why she’s so forgotten – probably because she didn’t make a fuss of herself.


    Managed to forget a teacher’s meeting this AM – another sign I’m trying to fit the round peg of my life into that square hole.

    20 Oct 80
    Staying home with an awful cold finishing Prelude so I can write my Wordsworth paper. Type tomorrow AM.


    Difficult weekend with friends. Don’t know how to handle Toss’s anger in front of other people. Friday night was his night to cook – he made a wonderful boeuf bourguignon. But on my night (Sat) he was so interfering I just let him do it. He’s moved everything around in the kitchen so I can’t find anything – embarrassing.


    He seems to be reproducing his mother’s ploys and tensions. Wish he had a little more of his laid-back father in him!


    Read Jean Rhys’ Quartet and Smile, Please. What a writer! Such purity! I am really envious. Don’t agree she’s beyond self-pity however – the books pulsate with it. What a pity respect & love aren’t joined in the male as they are in the female.


    Now reading Janeway’s Powers of the Weak. There’s a chapter missing! Interpersonal power politics between husband and wife!


    Avril called tonight to say she got the Maine job – (domestic abuse shelter) $11,000 the first year! Bravo! Avril wants to open a bar in Hallowell called “So’s The Governor’s Sister.” Funny.

    22 Oct 80 – Train
    Creature from the Black Lagoon discussed in Eng class. I was too stupid to contribute. Brent criticized my story Travel Fever – bad ending – (fair enough) but he also said he was surprised at the cruelty in the family! (Katrina the scapegoat.) This from a man who admires Flannery O’Connor. Better off working on novel and NOT short stories. Don’t think I have the art.

    26 Oct 80
    Horrible fight with Toss began with my criticism of his old newspaper and rusty tobacco tin collections – do we really have to save all this moldering junk? He blames me for the “bad move” from KY in which he lost so much stuff. But I moved, too. (TWICE.)


    He also had the nerve to say we “live like slobs” when he was supposed to clean the living room 2 days ago. (He’s doing it now.)

    6:30 PM – He came upstairs and apologized – very sweetly. Lovingly, courageously and open-heartedly. So we did go for walk – gathering branches & berries to decorate house. Saw a beautiful dead bird with a black ruff around its neck – feathers green and black. Blissfully happy reading Rose Macaulay’s Letters. News that Commonweal will publish my poem Life of the Virgin!

    30 Oct 80
    Very interesting discussion with Toss – he cooked a fabulous leg of lamb (but still refuses to vacuum.) He said Henriette Wyeth not worth the ink she’s getting for her show – I said art is really lacking in feminine emotion (Rothko Pollock & de Kooning masculinity reduction ad absurdum) and a woman painter raised in a family of male painters is a “test” case. What’s the missing element? Supernaturalism! Since we borrow our bodies from earth our souls are our only true individuality.

  • Embattled Love – the diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    StormFall – 4 Aug 80


    Familiar feeling of depression. More wedding invitations – Granma’s list and Sutton’s list. Poor Sutton – I feel so sorry for him even though he jokes about missing Val: “I got rid of the last gardener I had.”


    The only bad night was engagement party – Mom and Dad chose a reel of slides and I sat there stunned at the genesis of all my stories. Ocean, lake, dolls’ cottages – happy healthy smiling people – whence comes all this pain? Dad looks at pictures of the Gryphon tooling through Europe and says, “I’d do it all again.” Would he? I wouldn’t! That pain comes from somewhere deep, deep inside me. Makes me feel like they’ve been right all along – there’s something wrong with ME. Luckily Toss backs me up – he says he “feels 13 years old” around them. Fortunately, I had one “flying high” day on Shadowe Island – with Gretchen Fuchs, the poet. Oh, her library! We soared together in a conversational ecstasy. I saw us deep in the future, two old ladies in an English garden. Talking forever. Lovely woman.


    Champagne & steamers with Sutton – then home.

    Grover’s Mill – 10 Aug 80
    Unpleasant shock in the mail today – Guilders demanding transcripts. Naïve me – I thought only the writing sample mattered for the writing program! Wait till they cock a snook at my record! Will I be exposed as an unqualified adventuress? Would it be so bad if they withdrew their offer? Then I could go someplace else – Marymount maybe. How I loooooong to be pregnant!

    StormFall – Tues 19 Aug 80
    My last entry? I absent myself from family discussions saying I’ll go to bed to read – really want to write here. Just taken my last Birth Control pill maybe EVER – only 13 pills into the packet. Feeling amorphous. Borderless. The aspirations of adolescence fading.
    What were the aspirations of adolescence? I can barely remember. To be admired, chiefly. By “others”. And now I’ve ditched the “others” and I’m alone on a vast plain – trying to steady a tipping world. Listening.


    Are inner imperatives enough for a whole self? What about love? But love is a term like “weather” – describes infinite mutability.


    Need to finish the goddam wedding maps & directions & walk them to the Post Office.

    2:15 PM – Thurs 21 Aug 80
    Period started! Shouldn’t be surprised – been having a brief period in the middle of my cycle since I started these damned pills – probably they’ve been making me sick.
    Thinking about the relationships between parents & children – how avoid the miseries? Poor Mom! She felt like a “loser”. Dangerous not believing in an “eternal force” because then all there is is YOU. To BLAME.


    Poor Mom! Preferred to housekeep alone – but wanted us to “help” when she wasn’t there – but do it “her way.” Fated to eternal disappointment!


    Wedding programs – copy the service in a book for T’s friend Bracket – the gay Baptist preacher – to use.


    Weirdly dark cold day. Shakespeare play at Edith Wharton’s tonight is open air – I just hope it doesn’t rain!


    Toss’s out driving around with Cousin Wolf in the ancient Chevy they resurrected.
    Studying the Marymount catalogue and reading Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet – hadn’t realized he was so young when he wrote them! Should be called Letters FROM a Young Poet! May have to switch to Agatha Christie – she’s the sugar taken for “shock”.

    Grover’s Mill – 7 Sept 80

    A week since our wedding so this must be our honeymoon. I feel perfectly balance on a tightrope – drinking vodka & lime while studying Woolf’sBooks & Portraits, Sayers’ Mind of the Maker. Toss struggling with his additions to our thank you notes. Tomorrow off to Guilders College for a “teachers organizational meeting” so they must be sufficiently desperate if they don’t mind my lack of a degree. Should be interesting.


    Chaotic summer swallowed up by the wedding – ended up costing $7000 total. Facing winter with confidence – pregnant in 2 months! If Guilders doesn’t work out enroll in Marymount get my degree one class at a time.


    Last night we had bridesmaid Trish Lambert to dinner – husband Noah coming to lunch today – their marriage breaking up so we try to counsel. Looks hopeless – Noah chooses his pride over Trish every time – she says she’s not going back to a situation where she was made so physically ill. What was she allergic to all the doctors wanted to know? Turned out to be him.
    Try to write here more regularly. These pages are a bank account. Save, save save.

    Mon Sept 8 – 80 – Train from NYC – 4 pm
    What I thought would be a “teachers meeting” turns into a disgusting “registration” process – running from one building to another, paying fees, filling out forms – I am seriously allergic to bureaucracy and the tears are starting to leak. Feel like a person wearing an ill-fitting disguise. However, I believe I carried it off. Just act like you’re entitled and no one questions you. I just don’t want to live in this world. I doubt poor Toss caught in the maw of Beginning Law can provide much sympathy. He is dotting I’s and crossing t’s with a vengeance.


    Financial pressures create time pressures. Try to look for the meaning in all this.

    2:30 AM Sept 9 – Worry and 2 double whiskies wake me at one and I can’t get back to sleep. Tried bath & reading, nada. Toss has been magnificent. I was able to present my worries without sounding like an idiot and he was able to identify with them without being dismissive. He says his uncle Avery gives Masters to people without BAs in Environmental Studies all the time. I say I really don’t need the degree it’s the experience I want and anyway I blame Plumly. And Chevenix. They ruined me for “degrees”. He always says Plumly was “not so bad” – and of course he loved Reed but they wouldn’t even let him SEE his grades! (They show everyone else!) and he needed an extra year – but he seems to accept my Kafkaesque emotions.

    Sat 20 Sept 80 – Fortunately our weekend guest (Toss’s Reed roommate) not here yet. Cleaned & garnished house for 4 solid hours. Went shopping bought 14 meals for $60 – Toss went to Trenton then discovered he didn’t need to go. (Getting out of housework? Hmmm.)


    He put a bookcase together and filled it with books (which helped) now he’s making peach butter.
    What’s preventing me from pointing out to him that him doing all the work he LIKES and me doing all the work BOTH OF US DISLIKE is not a fair division of labor? Cowardice.


    Then there’s the problem that this is his grandparents place filled with his grandparents furniture and he doesn’t want anything “changed.” My only satisfaction if making my study a feminine as possible (painting my file cabinets yellow.)


    Reading Krumm’s Why I am an Episcopalian (he’s pro women’s ministry) and Hans Kung’s Signposts for the Future and struggling with what God I believe in. Not a subject for dinner party conversation. He will watch Presidential debate and I can opt out of that.


    22 Sept 80
    Lie in bed satisfied our entertaining’s over. It’s a “test” of our relationship to be around third parties. T always more critical of me in his anxiety that things go well – I am dreamy & slapdash by nature. Ended up watching the debate after all – much more fiery and vituperative than I expected – John Andersen an old-time preacher and Reagan sweetly vague and never finishing his sentences.

    24 Sept 80 –Waiting to counsel Rose Love (!) but looks like she isn’t going to show. Lots of them don’t. I’m not the only one having trouble with this system. Horrors! I was “observed” in class – a teacher sneaking in while I was trying to teach probationary “backward” students (I.e. unprepared) how to write an essay and feel I made an idiot of myself. I sweat & tremble – am I only “a pack of cards” or are THEY only “a pack of cards!” Basic feeling of inadequacy – these kids deserve better than me! How did I ever think I could DO this!


    Well if Rose isn’t showing up I can read Sackville-West’s magnificent Eagle & Dove.


    Very depressing meeting with advisor Ezra Brent about my novel – asked how long I’d been working on it – I said 7 years and he was HORRIFIED. WAY too long for a project so short! But I am evolving as it’s evolving I splutter. Better write about your childhood instead, he counsels.
    Of course, I can’t do that! Blah! Resolve to write a novel specially for his class – chapter a week. What interests me? Murder & nuns at present. Do I know anything about those? I admit I don’t but need to follow this trail. His obvious expression of disbelief is all the goad I need. Call it “Pinch of Death” from Shakespeare – a quote long in search of a tale to headline.

    Train to NY 1 Oct 80
    Class observer gave me a rave review! Made 4,000 copies because frankly, no one would believe it. I don’t believe it myself. Good meetings with students. Asked Brent what to do about lack of a BA – he said Do nothing yet. You are a “promising” student. I still feel uncomfortable – don’t even feel like a STUDENT. Feel bolstered up. Unfortunately, no one in fiction class likes my novel – they all think I’m “anti-modern”. I don’t like theirs either. I fire back by advising they read Krafft-Ebing – no “modernity” without him. I should have taken Carberry’s modern poetry – enjoying romantic poetry VERY much.


    Fellow student Charlene Clark is teacher at a Catholic college (working on her SECOND masters) and can give me lots of advice about nuns.


    I got a letter saying I am a member of the faculty so I get a 10% discount at the bookstore!!! They also have a very respectable library. Reading CS Lewis’s Letters to an American Lady. I CHERISHED his Letters to Malcolm. But 4 Loves very rough going. His anti-feminism somewhat mitigated by his late marriage. He was dragged into that the same way he was dragged into Christianity – kicking and screaming – “the sorriest convert you ever saw.” Interested in his “shameful” relationship with Mrs. Moore. Krafft-Ebing anyone?


    Experimenting with prayer but it feels very unnatural. I like the mystic’s stillness – make yourself empty and “fill up.” Any kind of “intellectual direction” feels wrong.

  • Embattled Love: the diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    4 pm 4 July 80


    I most mind the separation from Toss; our “togetherness” is an “affront” to his father’s loss he thinks. But it gives me more time for writing.

    Today was the worst day – no, yesterday was pretty bad too. Long ordeal of preparing food and sitting around waiting for somebody to eat it. Awful. Toss keeps trying to take away jobs his poor father really wants to do – everyone wants the man to sit there stunned and feel his loss. Subtle struggle for power between Lew’s brother Avery & Toss. Toss wants to do everything and he’s physically angry with other people’s interference; locking his jaw, snapping his head and waving his fists. This makes ME angry!


    Current thinking is its “good” to let your anger out but since anger is infectious this really is a stupid idea. I’m sure Toss is angry because he was raised by a really angry woman. Reminds me of my father’s anger – my mother’s response was to drift away, humming. It’s impossible to love a really angry person – anger is a rejection. Granma doesn’t help – tries to goad people into activities; sorting, cleaning fussing projects; busywork. Really annoying. We contemplatives get short shrift around her.

    Sat 12 July 80 – Grover’s Mill
    A week since Val’s funeral. Toss forced me to buy horrible clothes – I thought since it was all his and his family’s affair I’d give in to his taste – results shockingly bad. Things I never wear: Khaki, stripes, constricting belts: Yuck! So much for his “You have no taste Alysse.” Now we know what he thinks taste is: BEIGE CANVAS. Comfort not only NOT a consideration, It’s an insult – to the universe apparently. Never again. Saw Val in her coffin – touched her rock-hard chest, her frozen face. Nothing more shocking than a dead person – it’s like any object. God!


    Finished wedding invites, immediately invaded by terror. Why? Wish the wedding was tomorrow – wish I was pregnant – Is it because now I have to write? Probably. Other people don’t seek out electric jolts. Invaded by hunger which I tried to ignore by biking to Post Office. While riding, I think.

    Sun 13 July 80 5:35
    Finished sewing pearls on my wedding veil. A peaceful activity. Yesterday Seth (T’s brother) and his fiancé Sue came to dinner. Talk about Lois who is struggling to write a “You deserve it” letter to Sutton. Found pix to show of Sutton & Lois’ courting phase. Even when he’s smiling down at her (1949) he’s holding his body in an attitude of withdrawal. They married 2 months before Toss’ birth! But Lois looks happy.


    When he failed to respond up to what she considered his romantic potential she began the punishments, the denigration, and when he turned away she acted so amazed! Her power, her charm, her luck – rushed out of her like air from a punctured balloon. What did she expect! “He’s so awful he doesn’t deserve to leave me?” When does THAT ever work? Doesn’t even work with kids! They flee at the first opportunity!


    She received all God’s gifts – except…the one everybody wants. It’s more like a curse.

    16 July 80 – 11:30 PM
    Retire with the rum, hot milk & honey I promised myself – this will do more for my headache than aspirin. Been stupid all day. Wrote a few pages on Prisoner – hope it goes better when I get to Labarraz. Villains always interesting.


    Tried unsuccessfully to read Straub’s Ghost Story. How can something so coarse-fibred be so praised? Someday we’ll look back on him the way we look back on Ms Humphrey Ward. Clueless in Paradise.


    Avril called – Daddy gets a million and a quarter from Corning or $55,000 year for the next 30 years. Says he hopes we won’t mind if he “squanders” it. Inzar kids get a million each. I admit it – I’m jealous. What would I do with it? Philosophy degree from Fordham?

    Sat 19 July 80
    Housework not finished – unfortunately. We have a guest interrupting my dreaming hours – Galaine – elderly cousin of T’s whom I politely asked to be my matron of honor takes it as an invitation to move in. Fortunately, she sleeps late. Horror stories about how her husband beats her – she used to flee her home to sleep in the church. They’re divorced thank God. Washed Weasel AGAIN – she tangled with a skunk and is stiff and pink from tomato juice.


    Toss leaves Monday for 5 days in Kentucky studying with buddy Boone Macafee. In 5 days alone can’t I get 75 pages? We’ll see.

    9:15 PM – 21 July 80
    Light spatter of rain can’t break the heat – still in the high 90’s though it’s dark outside. Perfect half-moon burns a hole though the cloud cover. Strange gunpowder noises could be thunder or carnival a mile away. Dixie the Labrador very worked up.


    Inside myself I grapple. Reading theology is a help. I feel people come into the world not blank but as coded entities. Trying to figure out the code. Reading Rosamond Lehmann – Swan in the Evening & short stories – it sends me into a Woolf frenzy. My psyche knows the vitamin it needs.
    Can’t write so I address wedding invitations – it’s like a dinner party – the more you can do in advance the better.

    9:30 PM – 23 July 80
    Excellent days I’ve had. Wise waiting to write till things fall into place inside.
    Thoroughly enjoyed (and mostly agreed with) Garry Wills’ Bare Ruined Choirs. Shouted & cheered my way thru the sex chapters. He was good, too on the Jesus freaks.


    It hit me – here’s my Secaire. It’s my religious novel. I was dumb, I was slow but feel now I’ve got it.
    Up most of the night reading Greeley’s Making of the Pope 1978 – NOT an edifying story. We are all made in each other’s image.


    Housework. Avril’s train 10:30.

    The Barnacle Cabin – Shadow Island MAINE – 11:30 AM – Mon 28 July 80
    Argument with Avril – can Mom & Dad change? Should we nudge them? She is hostile to the idea: don’t EVEN TRY!!! But last night at dinner I pointed out how Mom interrupts – won’t let us get a word out – she was flabbergasted!! She’d been completely unaware of it – and so’s Mom! And it goes against Mom’s philosophy etc. So, there’s a change we could make if we pointed it out.
    Genevieve did give me some support. Agreed Plumly made a mockery of religion for the students (which Mom & Dad did NOT want to hear).


    Merrill very threatening and formidable – will not allow her schedule with Baby Barney to be interrupted. PERIOD. Whew!


    When I asked what time I could come to the Periwinkle Cabin and make coffee she said NEVER.

    The Barnacle needs hotplate!


    Merrill NOT a good ad for pregnancy – her body looks collapsed like a beanbag chair. I remind myself – this is where all the gins & tons are tending.


    Genevieve on the other hand looking particularly gorgeous – very challenging about my desire to go to Fordham; says “It’s CATHOLIC” the way you’d say “It’s fascist.” Wish I could have explained my emotional feeling that mysticism is “beyond all that.”

    The Barnacle – midnight July 30-31 – 80
    Talked to my sweetie on the phone and he read me some mail. Cindy thanks me for my note but “can’t face” the wedding. What did I say? Can’t remember.


    He had a good day on his exams – felt excited and competent. But he feels utterly unprepared for tomorrow’s New Jersey exam.


    Finished Jean Love’s Virginia Woolf – Sources of Madness & Art which I adored – can’t wait for the next volume. Especially interesting to read it “in the bosom of family” so to speak. Jean Love points out family members’ development is complementary to all others’ (family members’) development. Mom & Dad less insulting this time – they must be starting to think this wedding might really come off.

  • Embattled Love: the diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Thurs 12 Jun 80


    Rode my bike to Evening Prayer in Princeton. Perfect length (1/2 hr) 2 hills of equal size so neither direction is “harder”. Ordered more wedding invites, then discovered it was 5:23 so had to rush to intimidatingly big church.


    7 people arranged around a side altar – my plan to go unnoticed conks out. What is my obsession with invisibility? Because parents were so agonized whenever I launched forward?
    Minister female, short, stocky. Daphne?


    Turned out to be a healing ceremony! Quite beautiful! Lots of rising and standing. At some point I just burst into tears. Awful. Everyone asking if they could help but I don’t know what’s wrong so just slobbered away. I think now I was feeling “expulsion”, exclusion – “The gifts of God for the people of God” but I don’t really know. I may just be emotional as parents said; “we won’t let your peculiarities interfere with your health” direct quote.


    I was so embarrassed leaving – apologized but the minister grabbed my hand and looked piercingly into my eyes.


    GOD IT WAS POWERFUL! Said, “I’m Daphne Hawkes!” Wow!


    She insisted she “knew me” and “recognized my name” (Reader of Devlyn? Impossible.)


    She said she had time to talk, I said I DIDN’T and blundered away. She said, “You’re in my prayers, Alysse!”


    I stagger off, exalted & terrified.


    Bike conked out, I walked home.

    On the Palmetto from Washington – Princeton Jct 10 PM Tues 17 Jun 80
    I love trains. I like Arthur Conan Doyle because he loved them too. All his fuss over timing, carriages & tickets delicious to me.


    Feeling bad about Avril – she says her life is suddenly empty. Her heart membrane as thin as a racehorse’s ankle.


    We got her a cat and helped her pack – best way to free her I can think of. Bought my wedding lingerie, tried on the veil Maureen is making for me – STUNNING!


    Avril & I saw 2 classics – The Empire Strikes Back and The Shining.


    Missing my angelic male half.


    House sale should net $5,000 – M & D giving me $3000 stock Nov 1. Relief to have SOME money coming in.

    Thurs June 19 – 80
    Letter from agent – Devlyn sold to Germans for $1000! (One edition – rights revert to me.) Der Todestrank or some such thing. “The Death Drink.” Maybe I don’t have to take a job this summer (fellowship starts Sept.)


    Late again to Daphne’s service – this is awful but I had to drive T to pick up his car. Forgot to bring Kleenex – so sure I wouldn’t need it! Wrong!!!


    Trying Zen breathing to control the sobs – zilch. Total humiliation.


    Daphne hugged me said she was glad I’d come – I took the oil & communion although I’m “unbaptized.” Daphne said a different prayer for each of us. Lovely woman. The wine was real! (Unlike at Devon’s church.) Nice touch!


    I think I’m crying about “losing control.”

    Thurs 26 June 80
    Writing wedding invites not as much fun as I thought it would be – can’t use my fountain pen (paper too absorbent) can’t get as good an effect with a felt tip. Oh well!


    I’m up to 90. Can only do 20 per sitting because I become paralyzed with boredom.


    Last weekend on Cape first time I felt I was “myself” around T’s family. Having a book out nobody read is not much to establish an identity.


    T’s aunt Mimsey staying with us now – up late arguing with her about adopted cousin Katey. She argues – weirdly I think – against adopted children finding their biological parents! If they could just accept a Beneficial Social Fiction as reality wouldn’t we all be Fine? Where have I heard that before! I was so relieved Toss saw all the issues immediately – he’s so smart – the biggest one being TIMES CHANGE. (Often in ways we can’t imagine but since we know they do, why pretend? ”We’re gonna fix this for you kids right before we die and you’ll never have to address that problem again” is sheerest idiocy.) He really is a superior intellect. (He does have a flaw; sees abortion and adoption as similar! Typical male!)

    Mon 30 Jun 80
    Lethargy – extreme, prolonged, profound – the key to my personality these days. Fallow. Torpid.
    A little Teresa of Avila goes a long way – Elinor Wylie is fascinating & sad. Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s latest volume. of diaries is an irritant. I WANT to identify with but she’s too oppressively DIFFERENT.


    Jonathan Valin’s Lime Pit ho hum, Eliz Cadell’s latest totally empty. A Marriage of True Minds had some interesting data.


    Not finding what I want I reread Nancy Drew with an eye to a Modern Version. What would that look like? I sketch out a Mystery at Mirror Lake – trying to help a friend – it becomes Last Year at Marienbad pretty quickly.


    Want to rewrite Prisoner of St Secaire & getting some good ideas. I don’t want the heroine to be “unsure”, that’s Nancy’s appeal in a nutshell. She’s so confident! She’s always being accused of being a spy and a snoop and it doesn’t faze her. Yes, she is! So there! She has no problem pocketing evidence and keeping it to herself.


    Probably why Bobbie Mason (?) condemned her as “cold” and “calculating” in The Girl Sleuth. She NEVER solicits male help! (Asks Dad for a favor once in blue moon.) “Unfeminine”? But why then is she so popular WITH GIRLS? She represents an absent vitamin? Obviously. We’ll suck tree bark to get it if we have to (and you DO have to suck tree bark to read Nancy Drew.)


    A possible direction for Fawn in Demon Roused?

    11:AM – 3 July 80- StormFall Farm
    Toss’s father Sutton’s third wife Val died suddenly yesterday morning at 2:30 AM. T. was on the phone with his father about 11 PM when Sutton suddenly said – “there’s something wrong with Val.” And dropped the phone.


    When he came back on he said they were calling Rescue.


    Toss and I jumped into the car and drove straight up to Masschusetts arriving at the hospital where they said, “She expired.” Like a library card! Couldn’t understand it at first. She was only 46!


    Back at Sutton’s house he was cold and grey still in a state of shock; “They couldn’t start her heart.”
    No one knew she had anything wrong with her heart! I don’t know who suggested birth control pills as the culprit – or smoking? She had decided to break her diet for a dish of ice cream and that was it.


    Toss is with his father, I should be washing my hair; instead I write a poem for Val I can’t share but like better than anything since Alyssum.


    At this rate I’ll have a volume in 20 yrs!

    Sutton’s Place
    Everybody crying, Sutton on the phone with his sister Mimsey, Granma’s plane just landing, youngest brother Dom will be here within the hour. Minister came over to lead prayer service – did quite well – we discussed immortality & warmed to each other – I was stupid enough to say I’d written a poem – he said I could read it at the service Uh oh. Better come up with something for public disclosure.

  • Embattled Love: The Diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    2:10 AM – Grover’s Mill – New Jersey – Sat 24 May 1980


    Here we are! Just finished painting the newly plastered wall, putting up a bookcase and most of my books in it. Bad moment when T. thought I was going to paint the wall yellow (I wasn’t.) The kitchen is done but this bedroom still looks like hell.


    Wrote a 9 p letter to Devon when I was at my bluest. Probably shouldn’t send it! Sometimes life is too mysterious and T is too much of a stranger. Imagine making this move with Devon! (Or Bruce!) Or Ryder. UNIMAGINABLE!!!! Things are worse because we’re fasting till Mon AM. I use food to pep myself up but this summer I’m determined to get my greed under control. Hard accomplishing anything with T standing over me questioning every move I make.


    Looking for a place to hang the Earl & Countess of Horton bas reliefs Mom gave me T said, “I won’t lie to you – I don’t like them.” I said, “I’ll put them in my study” but then I boiled. I don’t like ANY of his stuff – his horrible vintage Camel ads – it’s all hideous – but what if I said so? I took it for granted that if HE likes & wants it, end of story. Evidently, I need to recast my thinking! But that’s impossible – if I rejected everything I didn’t like we’d only have my stuff!

    Memorial Day
    Our compromise is – he works in the barn, I work in the house. The barn is full of treasures that need to be appraised and catalogued and probably sold but he is wildly incensed when I say so! Everything must be saved till it chokes us to death. He is a very angry man and his anger makes me angry. Most unpleasant. He said Alysse, even when you’re angry you’re the person I love most in the world. I feel like I have T’s peace of mind in my care but he doesn’t have mine because he doesn’t know HOW to. Wasted time trying to get him to see praise & encouragement aren’t the same thing. He says, “At least when I praise you you’ll know I mean it.”


    He thinks I love him because my “standards are low.”

    4:30 AM Sat 31 May 80


    Can’t sleep. Reading Helen Van Slyke’s hymn to the middle class but all her books are hymns to the middle class. People who think life is an Ionesco play crossed with Munch’s The Scream won’t like Helen Van Slyke.


    Lavallee likes my rewrite “a lot” and is submitting it to Crown. I was sure she’d be able to tell I’m getting numb but apparently not. Sent my gothic The Bride & the Wolves to Tower. Now I have to take a serious look at St Secaire.


    Had a little cry (private fortunately) over T praising my clothes, body & housework but not projects or ideas. Need to start a serious program of prayer & meditation.


    Ackerman liked T but his CLERKS didn’t want him and Ackerman leaves it up to them! Too bad. Now he’s behind on his bar study schedule because of the move. Maybe self-study NOT the best pattern for a procrastinator?


    I think men just aren’t bred to give encouragement.

    7:15 PM Wed 4 June 80


    “O Rose Thou Art Sick…”


    The problem is T’s anger. When we are walking the dogs he says, “Keep to the road, dammit!” There is no point cursing at a dog! He says it makes HIM feel better. I say anger is corrupting – it just makes EVERYBODY angrier! How break an addiction that poisons our relationship? How is it women are called “strident” when men pullulate with such rage?


    Forms arrived so I innocently shared my poems and he got jealous of RYDER!!! It never even occurred to me! (poem in question: Love the magician) Obviously, I should have kept these publications “secret” but how icky is that! Especially when the guy is lecturing me on “honesty” night and day. I’m going to have to start pleading the Fifth.


    Set up a prayer desk in my study – books, candles, etc. I’m going to practice. I feel stupid asking for things – just try to get in touch with the Divine. But I also feel like God could “save” T! Flood him with light, etc.

    Yesterday required interview with Eng Dept at Guilders College for teaching. They astonished me by saying “You’re hired”!

    Thurs 5 June 80
    Yesterday so bad I threatened to give up and drive to Washington! I was almost in despair. He said I am preventing him from studying with my “demands” which means breathing, sleeping & eating apparently.


    He apologized finally and said he’s just so upset about the bar exam! So, I try to relax him physically. Give up on dieting – alcohol & food accomplish what rationalizing & arguing won’t.

    Sat 7 Jun 80
    We’ve been here a little over 2 weeks and the place is beginning to look like ours. I’m sitting in the garden under holly, maple, lilacs and cypress – an English garden gone to seed. I see Toss’s light in the Little House (an outbuilding) where he is studying.


    Tomorrow drive to Phila to celebrate T’s birthday then on Mon I plan to plunge into my study & redo Secaire. Mom & Dad called – I told them about Gilders College Writing Fellowship. They told me ForOptics merged with Corning Glass – up to 24 from 8. This would be good news for me if I could ever get hold of my stock but my “trustee” – Dad – won’t let me have it. He is considering a disbursement. He’d better since Gilders’ stipend is $60/week!


    T & I had the usual fight last night but I am learning from them. He goes “negative” & combative very fast. I have to grit my teeth not to mushily give in – I don’t want to fight but APPARENTLY HE DOES – the trick is to get him to see it. He thinks I’m just “resistant” and “demanding.” Resolved to bring his unconscious processes into consciousness.


    Dinner = trout grilled in spinach. Melon & cold veg salad.


    Reading PD James’ Innocent Blood – just awful. What bone does she have to pick, that’s the curiosity. Feels like she hates females. Probably thinks she must go “male” to write – or how can female “fluidity” direct a story?

  • Film Review: The Crown VS Saltburn

    Film Review – Scammers Get Scammed – Saltburn VS The Crown

    Well, it’s finally happened – The Crown has fallen in love with its subjects and a syrupy lot of over-privileged spoiled babies they are. When the nausea rises to projectile-vomiting level, try Saltburn, Emerald Fennell’s revenge on all twits everywhere.

    There’s an obvious reason Fennell can’t call this new enterprise Promising Young Man to remind us of her magnificent first outing, Promising Young Woman ,because its subject, Oliver Quick, is pure evil. And that, of course, is the problem with this movie. If there’s anything more sickening than the self-confident blathering of nitwits, it’s the triumph of evil. No thanks! Sadly, it ruins the film because it “jumps the shark” into unbelievability. The twits certainly can become silly enough to be overtaken by the more intelligent but the sad truth of reality is, there’s always someone smarter and meaner coming along.

    One of my great pleasures, as a Plot Maven, is re-writing bad endings and Saltburn’s is easy. Aristocrats of the Saltburn type are surrounded by servants whom they vigorously try not to see. But the servants see them. Try Joseph Losey’s magnificent The Servant as a helpful restorative.

  • Film Review – “Stoker” by Alysse Aallyn

    Stoker – Arche-tripe

    Stoker’s screenplay started out as fan-fiction to Alfred Hitchcock’s much more enjoyable Shadow of a Doubt, which has a moral center, plus victims we care about and characters we can root for.

    Stoker has a good, even beautiful movie buried in it but park Chan-Wook kept messing it up, very deliberately, probably under the pressure (and pleasure) of his personal fetishes. It starts WONDERFULLY – psychologically interesting, visually compelling, achieving an apotheosis of eidetic perfection hen a shot of hair dissolves into quivering grasses but jumps the shark on story sanity. Anyone who want to write about crime (and criminal psychology) need to STUDY it carefully or they risk sounding like nine year old girls guessing about sex – majorly clueless and missing all the real points – ultimately creating an uninteresting world too obviously made up.

    Subjects like mental illness, spies, the foreign service, rituals of different countries, etc., can’t be persuasively invented, and threadbare simulacrums relentlessly reveal unpleasant truths about immature people who just don’t want their fantasies interrupted.

    I used to write fantasies, too, until I began an in-depth study of crime. It changed what I wrote, how I think about the world, even how I live my life. Devlyn is a fantasy – but Find Courtney can actually happen. (Versions of it already have.) This is the reason I usually don’t like sci fi. It is possible to completely make up a world – for example Alice in Wonderland – but if it doesn’t satirize the rules of the real one it collapses like a bad soufflé. Michelangelo felt he couldn’t create a credible physicality of angels without studying dead bodies in morgues.

    I understand that in Stoker our “Oldboy” doesn’t want to be “bothered” by all that stuff – he’s an “artist” who wants to create visual poetry so hypnotic it gets away with breaking the rules and it almost works! But by the end of the film real life insistently intrudes with its message that the “impossible” is ultimately boring.

    The acting in Stoker is very good – especially Matthew Goode who seemed creepily young and was almost perfect – he would have BEEN perfect if the director had allowed him to be a little less vampiric and a little less “ka-razy” and a little more human. That would have made him more appealingly believable. But of course everyone has to submit to becoming an “archetype” to satisfy this director. India Stoker’s amoral, murderous sexuality has been a fetish for middle-aged men seeking to relieve their guilt (and excuse their behavior) for literally HUNDREDS of years. “Some girls” don’t have “proper feelings” so can be ruthlessly used and heartlessly exterminated.

    Poor Mia Wasikowska! I have admired her ever since In Treatment with Gabriel Byrne – she deserves better. That said, I have to admit a personal failing – Nicole Kidman’s frozen weirdness always gets my back up. I have been rolling my eyes over her rigidity since Cold Mountain.

    Mostly I feel sorry for actors who are talked into limiting the range of their gifts by these visual directors who set out to make a cohesive, visually stunning objet d’art, not a complex story about humans. As proud professionals they know how to give the director what he wants, thereby betraying their actual abilities which could create something much more intriguing, provocative and mentally long-lasting.

    I watch a fair amount of crime and it’s always entertaining for me to speculate about how people could have gotten away with it. In this case, easily with a modicum of adulthood & sanity which seemingly bores our first-time scriptwriter (Wentworth Miller) who needs to be more “in your face”. Too bad. But I did enjoy seeing it because I relish being given a puzzle mistakenly assembled – in my view. Then I have the mental fun of putting it together more effectively myself – an amusing occupation for a winter afternoon Ah.

  • Devoured Heart – romantic suspense by Alysse Aallyn

    Chapter 41. Puzzle Pieces

    Thus began the busiest week of Scarlet’s life, but at first, the happiest. The weather was sharp and clear emitting occasional puffy snowflakes; the sky was wide and open and even in London one could see forever. The streets were festive with Christmas lights and bustling shoppers. There were visits to the Victoria and Albert museum where Kirby Crousam gave Scarlet, Miss Bottomley and Pom a guided tour. Scarlet had never imagined early, high and late Victoriana could all be equally interesting. They thoroughly enjoyed an auction at Christie’s where Miss Bottomley wanted to bid on everything but allowed herself to be guided to a gorgeous big green and grey Larry Rivers at an excellent price – dinners at Simpson’s, drinks at The Gay Hussar and ices at Largo’s.

    Miss Bottomley even talked them into attending a pantomime where she clapped as excitedly as a child.


    The front door had been endowed with a coded lock and two peepholes – one specifically placed at Miss Bottomley’s height – not that she ever bothered to answer the door any more. Now that she had Enid. All three residents approved and declared this entry was “much less bother”. A “panic button” was installed promising to start up a loud siren signal anytime the Norfolk Crescent Irregulars felt themselves threatened.


    Pom behaved like a perfect gentleman, but he looked less haunted and so Scarlet relaxed into guiltless joy. He studiously avoided body contact with Scarlet but his eyes maintained a reassuring glow of intimate promise. Scarlet was mentally relieved but her body was less cooperative – her whole soul ached for him. According to Pelham, the divorce case proceeded swimmingly: Ian had expressed relief to see from their divorce proffer that Scarlet wanted only maintenance for Nick and was offering nanny-supervised visitation. Scarlet felt confident Enid was not Ian’s “type”, and that if he pretended that she were, Enid would see through his gambit.


    “Between you and me I think he’ll sign,” said Pelham. “He’d be a fool not to with what we’ve got on him. Ian will agree to be the guilty party and only the judge will ever have to know the details of the harrowing time you’ve been through. Should be over fairly soon when they accept our bargain.”


    Scarlet welcomed the days when Miss Bottomley conferenced with Bob Thomas leaving her free to drop into Coltsfoot & Briggins and liase with Mr. Mountjoy. She finally met the elusive Jemima Plympton “pleased to meet you I’m sure” and was given an introduction to the printer, Prollops & Daughters. She was rejoiced at this Dickensian name and accepted it as a very good omen for their future venture! She had already contacted Francesca Joringel, asking to see her manuscript.


    The interview she coveted, however, was with Mr. Beebee, head of the advertising firm Coltsfoot & Briggins had used for, quoting Mountjoy, “donkey’s years.” And what she had found out as Mr. Beebee made his pitch caused her to think nobody but a donkey would ever use this firm, but rather than tell them that, she resolved to ask Pom at the first opportunity if he knew anyone in advertising. She had already discovered through happy experience that his art school connections were invaluable.


    Once again, she was lucky. On her way out, she saw a young woman – she couldn’t have been more than twenty – showing a portfolio to the bored receptionist who almost certainly had no clout whatsoever.


    “I’m sorry,” said the woman frostily in a not-sorry way, “Mr. Beebee’s in meetings.”


    Scarlet held the door open for her as the girl marched dejectedly out.


    “You’re casting your pearls before swine,” Scarlet remarked.


    The girl flushed, “They don’t want to hire a woman, that’s the truth. I doubt they have a single woman working there other than that bloody receptionist.”


    “The more fools they,” said Scarlet. “That’s what keeps them living in the past like a pack of dinosaurs. And the same thing that happened to the dinosaurs is going to happen to them. The ideas they showed me were hideously hidebound. Positively strangled at birth.”


    The girl looked at her with more interest as they stepped into the elevator together.


    “I’m Lalage Sumner-Locke,” she said. “I just finished up at Durham Technical College and my parents gave me two weeks at a hotel as a graduation gift to see if I could get a job in the City.”
    Scarlet knew this naïve introduction would have been counted against her anywhere except in front of a member of The Norfolk Crescent Irregulars.


    “My publishing firm is planning a hardbound reprint of the Miss Clew books of sixty years ago. I wonder if you’d read the books and mock up a advertising plan to get people excited about them.”
    “I think I’ve heard of those!” gasped Lalage. “My aunt read them through regularly every year. I’d certainly love to try my hand.”


    And so Lalage Sumer-Locke came to tea in the Norfolk Crescent kitchen, showed everyone her amusing portfolio and was given ten pounds – “This gives me an extra two weeks!” – and a full set of Miss Clew books.


    “She was lucky to have found you,” commented Enid and the two women cleared up afterwards when Lalage had departed and Miss Bottomley, worn out from a morning with Bob Thomas (“Money’s a terrible responsibility!”) had gone to lie down.


    “I was lucky to find her! What did you think of the portfolio?”


    “I loved the Piccadilly swan lording it over the Mayfair ducks! She’s clever, that one!”


    This cleverness was confirmed when, the very next day, Lalage phoned from the Royal Park Hotel (“My parents said I could stay anywhere with Royal in the title”) and suggested she’d also like to illustrate the books.


    “The illustrations can be part of the advertising,” she said. “We’ll seize on say, ten moments or however many you want – show an exciting scene – and get people caught up in speculation. “Can Miss Clew escape this time? Is Miss Clew’s number up? Can the world exist without Miss Clew?” That sort of thing.”


    “I love it,” said Scarlet. “How are you getting along with the books?”


    “I’m loving them so much I have to put them down and force myself to draw. I’m on The Jade Monkey Puzzle right now.”


    “Keep up the good work,” said Scarlet.


    She was interrupted by Branner of Palace Security.


    “That back entrance going to take us longer, miss,” he explained. “We need to sub-contract a masonry job – mortar’s so friable you can put your fist through it.”


    “So, you’ll be opening up the wall, then? How can you keep us safe?”


    “We’ll hang tarpaulins. And of course, there’s the night guard, ma’am.”


    Forever after, Scarlet was to regret not demanding extra guards. Was it possible to be too happy? It could make you careless.