Page 147 of Envy Mass Market


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Parker unfolded the sheets of manuscript and held them up to catch the light.

“ ‘Dear Mr. Slade,’ he read, ‘according to your last letter, you wish me to send future pieces of correspondence to your recently acquired post office box instead of to the street address. As it makes no difference to me, I can only assume that the request arises out of an unspecified desire to convenience yourself.’ ”

Parker cringed. “Good God. Verbose old bastard, isn’t he?”

“Well, he does teach creative writing,” Maris said. “One would expect him to be effusive.”

“Effusive is one thing, but that is obnoxious.”

Parker gave his outspoken valet a dirty look. “Thank you, Mike, for that unsolicited and tactless observation.”

“You criticized it first.”

“I’m allowed. I’m the author.”

Maris smothered a laugh. “You might consider trimming some of the fat, Parker. Just a little.”

“Okay. No problem. On the other hand, just for the sake of argument, Hadley’s verbosity is consistent with his character. Remember that he hails from an old and distinguished southern family. They had more stiff-necked pride than money and lived well beyond their means. Confederate sabers on display in the parlor. A matriarch whose ‘headache medicine’ was Tennessee sour mash. A batty maiden aunt—read ‘deflowered, then jilted’—who lived in the attic, smelled of gardenia, and wouldn’t eat uncooked fruit.”

“I remember reading those colorful details,” Maris said.

“My grandparents had friends like Hadley’s family is described,” Parker told her. “I remember their speech being flowery and overblown.”

Maris looked toward Mike for confirmation. “I rely on your superior knowledge of southern culture and heritage. Is it too much?”

“As usual, he’s exaggerating,” the older man replied. “But there’s definitely an element of truth there. If you scratch the surface of just about every multigenerational southern family, you’ll find at least one cleric, one loony, one outlaw, and enough liquor to float an armada.”

Laughing, she turned back to Parker. “Go on with the letter.”

He located the spot where he’d felt off.

“ ‘Once a relationship has been built on a particular foundation, it’s extremely difficult to destroy that foundation and reconstruct it with different specifications, without also destroying the original relationship.’ ”

“You’ve lost me,” Mike said. “What’s he talking about?”

“I agreed to trim the fat, okay?” Parker said, annoyed by the interruption. He ran his finger down several lines of text. “In summary, he’s saying that they began as professor and student. He says it’s hard to break the habit of assuming a professorial role with Roark, hard not to lecture or teach, and instead to address his comments to him as a peer.” He looked over at Mike. “Got that?”

“Thank you.”

“Okay, here… ‘Not that I am your peer, Mr. Slade. Your writing has surpassed my ability to critique it. It deserves an appraisal more distinguished than mine, although you could not solicit one that would be more appreciative of your talent.’

“He goes on for several paragraphs, confessing that he had entertained writing aspirations of his own before being forced to acknowledge that he wasn’t gifted with the talent. He says his role is to teach, instruct, inspire, yaddah-yaddah.”

He flipped to the second page.

“ ‘Rarely does one with my limited ability have the opportunity to work with someone as talented as you. I consider it a privilege to witness the development of a great American novelist, for that’s what I believe you will ultimately become.’ ”

Parker raised his index finger, letting them know that he was getting to the crux of the passage. “ ‘Your writing far surpasses that of any other student, past or present, including your friend Todd Grayson. He has written an engaging story with several interesting characters, specifically his protagonist. However, his writing lacks the emotional depth, the heart, with which yours resonates. I have no doubt that he will publish. He can produce a mechanically correct manuscript, incorporating all the textbook elements of fiction.

“ ‘That does not necessarily mean that he writes well.

“ ‘I can teach students the basics of writing, acquaint them with the rules of fiction, familiarize them with the writers who have mastered these techniques, but only God dispenses talent. That indefinable and elusive quality cannot be taught or otherwise acquired no matter how earnestly one desires and seeks it. I learned this sad truth from my own experience. Were talent attainable, I would be writing my own novels.

“ ‘Thank the god to whom you pray, Mr. Slade, for you were blessed with that magic. You were christened with a rare and wonderful ability. Your friend was not. I fear that eventually this lopsided appropriation of talent will cause a breach between you.

“ ‘During my tenure, I have observed thousands of young men and women. Because of this vast exposure to people from diverse backgrounds, I consider myself a superior judge of character. At the very least, I’m an astute observer of it.

“ ‘Some human characteristics are common to us all. Manifestation of these characteristics is dependent upon circumstance. Everyone has temporary displays of fear, happiness, frustration, and so on.

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