1984: Selected Letters (Paperback)

But it's not all postmodern fun. Beyond ever-present domestic difficulties-Delany's ongoing battle with severe dyslexia, wranglings with his ex-wife Marilyn over their daughter Iva, and problems with the chronic anxiety of his live-in, Frank-over the course of the year, the Delany household slides into an ever-deepening financial crisis that eventually finds Samuel and Frank scouring the streets for change, and reaches its emotional nadir with Delany's desperate letter to Camilla Decarnin.
But beyond the precincts of this private crisis there is a much larger crisis developing, a political crisis involving ideology, propaganda, censorship and repression of a sort that we might well call Orwellian ...
New York City in 1984 ...?
Read the rest of Ken James's introduction and the letters themselves for the rest of the story.

As indicated in the introduction, the choice of title for this book is deliberately evocative of Orwell's nightmare vision of that year, both as an indication of where Orwell got it right and where the real world has completely diverged from that vision. Within these letters, Delany shows just how completely draconian and life-meddling the IRS can be, as he finds himself without heat, trying to type with mittened fingers, scavenging cans from the street to get enough money to put food on the table for a day, trying to set his schedule to still provide a nice home for his daughter, where he must have someone else cash his royalty checks so he at least has some money the IRS doesn't immediately grab. And just as nightmarish are his problems with getting his works published, galleys corrected, artwork commissioned and delivered, all under a cloud of mis-information, missed publisher and printer dates, payment contracts that almost amount to slave labor, a phantasmagoric depiction of the Byzantine world of publishing.

On the opposite side of the coin, we see a man who has the freedom to choose a life style that the Ministry of Love would never condone, who can freely publish ideas about politics, sex, and writing that the Ministry of Information would have certainly censored. Delany's ideas in these areas are certainly insightful and he articulates his positions well, even if you don't agree with his conclusions. Some of the material here may not be everyone's taste, as he is occasionally extremely graphic in his depictions of various sexual encounters, but this material shows a Delany who is comfortable with who he is.

About my only real complaint is that we don't get to see the other side of these letters, that we only hear one side of the conversation. And sometimes it is obvious that that other side would be very interesting to be able to read. And a couple of quibbles: there are often references to people obviously known to both correspondents, but who is a complete unknown to the reader (some of these are footnoted as to who they are, but far from all), and, as letters, these works are lacking in the often poetic sense of language that Delany displays in his fictional works. But overall, these letters provide a fascinating look at a fascinating, brilliant, poetic, and sometimes very human person.

Away from the heat of these sexual excursions, Delany experienced trouble with the taxman during the period in question and the acute frustration he felt in trying to live life with no money to hand, despite having had much success with his novels and academic work, is obvious -- it's hard to imagine just how demoralising it was, but his description of winter in an unheated New York apartment, bundled up in jumpers, jackets and gloves to ward off the biting cold, tapping away at a word processor at 4am trying to finish a final draft of this or that book or article in order to earn some money, only to have it immediately snatched away by the IRS -- this I found particularly poignant. He also writes copiously about the difficulties of getting his then-current projects into print -- fascinating for anyone who has ever wondered what's really involved in getting a book into the shops.

On the positive side though, Delany writes with obvious love and affection about his (then ten-year-old) daughter Iva, product of a well-intentioned but failed marriage; he touches here and there on the deeper aspects of his relationship with Frank, his live-in partner (but I get the feeling much of it is kept private, even from his closest correspondents); his descriptions of the occasional high-flying Manhattan parties and soirees to which he's invited are positively "Dhalgrenesque", teetering on the edge of absurdity; and he writes about the sci-fi conventions he attends (often reluctantly) with deft insight into the natures of the characters involved.

There are references to Dhalgren and the real-life people and places behind some of the characters and locations, and some discussion about the many corrections that have been incorporated into the various reprints over the years; there are several academic discourses about books, music, writers, films and plays that, frankly, went over my head -- but there's enough accessible stuff here to keep an average reader like me absolutely enthralled.

We're now over fifteen years since these letters were written; I can only hope that life for this extremely gifted writer and -- well, a really nice guy, I reckon -- has improved immeasurably (especially financially) since then, because I feel he certainly deserves to have reaped the rewards of what has apparently been a career fraught with difficulties. Delany has provided me with many exquisitely crafted stories to read over the years; 1984 now takes pride of place alongside the other Delany masterpieces on my bookshelf. I only hope there's been enough public interest in this volume to warrant publishing some more of his correspondence. Personally, I can't wait.