From the Archives • December 1998

Audience:
Joyce Maynard Gives & Gets

Billy Hults

The Oregon Coast has always had more than it's share of writers. The ocean seems to help the words flow. Ursala LeGuin, the science fiction writer, has a house here in Cannon Beach, Jean Auel, of Clan of the Cavebear fame, has a place a little south, and mystery writer M.K. Wren is further south still. And these are just a few of the better known and published writers who spend time by this ocean; there are many more unknowns and wannabe's scribbling away. They mostly stay inside and write, but occasionally even writers have to come out into the real world.

Every once in a while on the street or in the grocery store you catch a glimpse of a face that you have seen on a dust jacket. This happens in a lot of small towns like ours. It is considered bad form to impose yourself on them, to rant about how you are their biggest fan, and all that. That is not why they come here. They get quite enough of that at readings and book signings, thank you. But some times in a small village like this one you will find yourself across the table from a person you have already met on the printed page, and they will smile and begin a conversation. This happened recently.

The large dark eyes of Joyce Maynard were watching as a bunch of us were playing music at the American Legion on a Monday night, as is our habit. Ms. Maynard has visited the beach before, and we met her briefly at a dinner party in Manzanita, several years ago. Now she was staying in a friend's condo working on her next book. Steve Duin, a columnist for the Oregonian had just written a nasty little piece about Ms. Maynard and her work in progress.

For those who aren't familiar with her work, Ms. Maynard wrote a column for the New York Times for several years that basically exposed the daily joys and pains of being a wife and mother. When her marriage began to break-up, rather than just deal with it privately, she included her thoughts in the columns she wrote. She was criticized for 'airing her dirty linen in public.' And Mr. Duin suspects that her new work will be more of the same, but with some rather more famous knickers hung out to dry. You see, when Ms. Maynard was 18 she was already writing, and one day she got a letter from J.D. Salinger. Mr. Salinger, the legendary recluse who wrote "The Catcher in the Rye," praised her work. She visited the 53 year old man, and they became lovers. They lived together for the better part of a year, and when they parted it was not as friends. When asked how her book was coming she said fine. We didn't press the subject.

She stayed about a month and then returned to her home and children in California. Several weeks later an e-mail said she was coming back. By this time we felt that serious questions about her writting were allowed, and asked if it was possible to read parts of it. Writers often let people do that to get a different perspective on their words. Ms. Maynard said no we couldn't read it, but she would be happy to read it to us. So that is how we ended up in a condo on the ocean listening to a 44 year old woman tell her story of the 18 year old girl who lived with one of the gods of American literature.

She reads in a rapid matter of fact tone, it is not theatrical. The words are dramatic in what they are saying not how they are said. Ms. Maynard is slim, with short dark hair, she sits in front of a computer, barefooted and intense, wrapping and unwraping her body around the chair. Her eyes and mouth work together separate from the rest of her body and her surroundings. The words come steadily, as if by gravity, they pour out. The story is her life, but she knows the reader wants the Salinger's story, and she begins her narrative by adressing the relationship. It is odd to hear her talk of Salinger as Jerry. There is so little information available about Salinger, he hasn't published in decades, he gives no interviews except to the most unlikely folks, like a highschool newpaper reporters several years back. So, for any admirer of Salinger's work this was a rare moment.

As Ms. Maynard reads the image of the ellusive Salinger clears a bit. He becomes more flesh. You can hear his voice, you can see the human being. That seems to be the problem for some people. Salinger has over the years with his hermit-like life built a mystery around himself. Now here is someone telling the world 'who done it.' Once you know how a magician performs an illusion the magic is gone, just the craft remains. "The Catcher in the Rye," "Franny & Zooey," "Raise High the Roof Beams, Carpenters" and "Nine Stories" invoke in countless readers a magic voice, a uniquely American voice. Salinger's words also often bring thoughts of hopelessness, pain, depression, suicide, but still they compell the reader on, and bring him back again to re-read and re-read. It effected Mark David Chapman to such a degree that when he was sentenced to prison for the murder of John Lennon, he quoted from "The Catcher in the Rye" as a defense of his actions.

Mr. Salinger is now in his late seventies, and has recently granted permission to a small press to print his first published work in decades, it is suppose to be printed this spring, but Amazon.com is already selling them for almost $30 each.

As Ms. Maynard reads, his voice comes out of her, "Joyce, why are you doing this?" It is a good question. The cynics will say, "It's the money, stupid," and yes, anything about Salinger is gauranteed to sell, and something so intimate will sell to the masses. The pragmatic will say, "It's for the record, it's history, it needs to be told." The compassionate will say, "She needs to deal with it, it is her way of healing, bringing closure." What does Ms. Maynard say? Well, a great deal.

Her words seem honest, she dosn't demean or slander, she dosen't point out in grizzly detail the feet of clay of this literary saint. She tells her story, and she tells it well. As Salinger noted, the woman can write. Her book will soon find it's place on that small shelf that holds the slim volumes that make up the little we know about one of our most famous writers, and it will cause even more controversy than it already has, by the time it gets there. But the impact it has on those who read it will never compare to the feelings it invoked on us as it tumbled out of the mouth of this fragile woman as we sat alone by the sea, and we still carry it inside somewhere.

When we thought about writing this, we asked Ms. Maynard her thoughts. It seemed to pass a cloud of doubt over her features, but she said, no problem if you get the facts right. We wrote a draft, called her and read what we had. She clarified and gave advice and criticism, and ask that we send a copy to her publisher. We said fine.

Then came the question, do we publish it? And why. We had to write it, it was impossible not to. No doubt it would cause the hits to go up on our web site, any reference to Salinger will, but isn't it a bit tabloid-like for the Upper Left Edge? We were recently praised for being one of the few "Monica-Free Papers" left in America. Our focus has always tried to be on other parts of the human dance. Does this story become explotation of relationships, Ms. Maynard's intimate one with Salinger and our social one with Ms. Maynard?

The one compelling thought that seems to make this a story that belongs here rather than People magazine, or the Star, is that it is about writers. Writers write, they write about passion, imagination, life, but mostly about themselves and their relationship to their world. And they share their art with the rest of their world. Just as painters paint pictures of their lovers, writers write about them, it is impossible to stop them. It is impossible for them to stop themselves. The question is, do you publish, do you share yourself with the rest of the world? Ms. Maynard's decision was yes. It's her story. All Mr. Salinger can ask is that she gets the facts right.

And this is our story. We have seen with different eyes a glimpse of a writer who has had a profound effect on many people's lives including our own. We have listened to fresh words from a familar voice. It is difficult to keep that to oneself. When a friend asks, "So what ya been doing lately?" Do you say, "Not much," and let it go? When you publish a newspaper, that is not an acceptable answer. So, if you are reading this, we've obviously made the decision. The arguements are many, both ways, and the decision will be made by your beloved editor alone. It is written with respect and appreciation for those who write. If that doesn't count, have your lawyers call our lawyers.