我们在纽约的露台上有一个亨利·詹姆斯的小雕塑。没有什么会让他感到惊讶。丛林里的野兽就是他所看到的——伊迪丝·华顿令人迷惑的哥哥……他逃离了曼哈顿的恶魔，因为害怕他们会吞噬他内心的恶魔(那些写书的人)，并让他的主角们窒息的尖叫声安静下来。像一个流浪的犹太人一样去欧洲——他是一个WASP——但带着犹太人的局外人的饥饿……把脸贴在性爱的玻璃上，拒绝任何激情，但写文字的激情变得越来越复杂和令人费解，直到他们完全把他囚禁在童话般的荆棘中。语言对我来说是透明的，是桥下闪闪发光的清水…我爱他的精神妹妹，因为她从自己阴暗的历史中解脱出来。都是饱受折磨的纽约人，但她来到了光明的中心——他呢?她带着朋友们进行了最后一次航行，乘坐一艘由她的版税包租的游艇穿越希腊群岛——一个为自己赚钱而自豪的富家女。 The light of the Middle Sea was what she sought. All denizens of this demonic city caught between pitch and black long for the light. But she found it in a few of her books. . . while Henry James discovered what he had probably started with: that beast, that jungle, that solipsistic scream. He did not join her on that final cruise. (He was on his own final cruise). Did he want to? I would wager yes. I look back with love and sorrow at them both-- dear teachers-- but she shines like Miss Liberty to Emma Lazarus' hordes, while he gazes within, always, at his own impenetrable jungle.