of my thoughts concerning him, and he seemed relieved when I made the
correction and added the unusual fact (and the important fact) of my
speedy rebound to acceptance. This simply as evidence of the feared
processes, of the hard road ahead.

Enough of incidentals.
trivial,
(How stiff, and fragmentary, and unsatisfactory this is.)

Here is the major fact: (what is it I am writing you, Marge, a
review perhaps? Damn.) The outline of my first real work is formed.
It will attempt to organically relate and create an America of at least
the eastern seabord. Beginning with a New York of scattered, brilliant
surfaces, of up-rooted, industrialism, business, machines, thoughts,
art, of these things stray, futile, neurotic, tortured, clogging a
deep spiritual heave, external movement converges to an inner intensity
that shoots a central character to the soil of Georgia, and plants him
there. For months he is submerged and germinal. He soaks in the deep rich
beauty-in-adjustment of Southern Negroes. And then he stirs, is stirred,
rather, first by the now quickening migratory impulse of the blacks, then
by the invasion of pioneer, commercial rhythms (and consequent rivalries
and prejudices), till he, sufficiently healed and nourished, commences his
pull upward from this peasant base. Washington is the next phase. Here
the commercial pulse beats louder. But not so strong yet as to drown the
soil rhythms. New Notes enter. Jazz. Spiritual complications. Georgia
related
is partially digested and resolid. New York prepared for. Intellectual
and spiritual lines distend, expand, belly, A second phase of chaotic
impulses and perceptions. These finally swing together and drive the
character to New York. Birth in New York. And the final expansion, in-
digestion, adjustment, integration. The whole thing linked and organic. A cultural
measure of America. A visioned, unified creation... Four volumes
perhaps. One for each phase... And now, YOU...

I could write its individual scenes without you.. perhaps. But no
matter how violent an episode may be, beneath, as the soil from it
springs, there must exist that calm, tender spiritual strength and beauty

3

of which we that evening spoke. In fact the whole spiritual space in
which the work has its being must be just that. And I may attain and
sustain that beauty only through you. The notion I once entertained of
an isolated, self-sufficient art existence is exploded. In its I have
the vision- I have something more than vision- I have the vision and
the experience, Marge, of a linked, interacting, completed Life.
wide

My grasp of the forces making for creation is toothing and too impersonal
to admit of my conceiving you as a limited possession. What you have done
and will do for me you must do for others, for yourself, if that is
your mission, - and I believe it is. Only as a unit do I tell you of need,
knowing all the while that you are perhaps more conscious of it than I
am.

Well......

PRESERVATION PHOTOCOPY: ORIGINAL MATERIAL RESTRICTED

Monday 6:00 PM

24 Sept 23

Dearest,

At last Macgowan's rejection has come. I send it to you.

"Dear Toomer: This is a hell of a long while to wait before answering your letter and talking about Kabnis. But you know how you often postpone something you want to do thoughy and that seems important, all because you don't think you have enough time handy. I won't say again how much pleasure I got out of your work. But I will say that I read it aloud this time to my wife and to a Negro maid, who is pretty up and coming but not so good at digesting culture. Her understanding and her reaction were most interesting. She thought the thing so very true, and said that the race papers and critics wouldn't like it at all. They demand optimism and blindness. I just pass this along KAXYAM because it will interest you. Frankly, I agree with Waldo about Kabnis and the theatre. It won't do as it stands. The dialog is good dialog, the characters are exceedingly good. The incidents are most of them very interesting. But I feel that the play lacks the one thing a play can't lack -- a general, dramatic design. It is a study in character and not a dramatic narrative. You know I will go a long way into experimental form, but there's one thing a play needs, whether the play is a conversation or a series of thirty scenes. It must have one more or less central action to grab hold off, and this action must be either physical or psychological. Kabnis lacks that kind of structure, the only kind a play must have.

Now, I say, why don't you write a play about these people or people you know just as well? Don't bother with three or four acts, if you don't find the action developing that way --any more than O'Neill does in The Emperor Jones or The Hairy Ape -- make your own form. But get this sense of developing intensity and a kind of bigness of central significance close to the end. I'm not sure about how the Provincetown Players will work out, but it looks as if I were going to direct it this year with O'Neill and Bobby Jones to help. How about a play for us? Arent you coming in town and cant we talk? I go in once a week. The next time is Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Address, the Harvard Club, 27 W. 44th st. Ever cordially..."

And my reply:

"Dear Macgowan Kabnis and your letter came to-day. Thanks for the reaction of the Negro maid. And of course I'm grateful for your criticism. I respect the impulse behind your thoughts, but I do not agree with them. For if Ralph Kabnis is not a central physical and psychological progression, if the play does not possess a dramatic structure because of him, because of the scenes, minor characters, and dialog that are incidental to his unfolding, then Kabnis fails as a literary form - dramatic or otherwise. I do not think it does. Your statements imply this, but you do not give supporting evidence. Of course I do not expect this of a letter. But I would like to discuss Kabnis with you, for I think that in that way I could test the validity of my contentions - and have them stand or fall. All along, Waldo's blind spot concerning this play has surprised me. For such remissions are not usual to him. I'll be glad to submit another play to you, as soon as I complete one. I am uncertain as to just when I shall come in, but I'll write or phone and let you know. And we can have our talk, which I am eager for. Cordially..."

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As you will note, I have been courteous, restrained, and even serious in my reply. Macgowan's letter, should one abstract its friendliness, certainly does not desirably deserve such consideration. There is not a single major piece of relevant criticism or understanding in it. His remarks about the design of Kabnis - the lack of design - are stupid. His school manner of giving me instructions as to how to write a play is infantile. And as for the language used - what can I say? Once before I alluded to him as a beloved slow-poke. Now I dub him a slow-poke incompetent. God help our "National Theatre" if such minds are to be its sole foundation and direction... Gorham has a word to say: