February 14, 1907

Dear Stan

I’m in Rome now. Still blind, of course. Listened to Nora describe the ceiling of the Sistine chapel to me. “Ooh” she says, “doesn’t Moses have big hands!” Good Lord.

Jim

June 4, 1920

Dear Stan

News from Paris. In addition to being blind I now get migraine headaches. They’re so painful I have to stop working so I can scream in pain for about three hours. I’m a big hit with the neighbors.

JJ

March 10, 1922

Stan-

Met some fat American today. Wants to be a writer. Wants to take me hunting. Put his gun in my hands. At least, I think it was his gun.

J

P.S. Still blind.

September 25, 1936

Stan-

Got a caraway seed stuck in my teeth at lunch today. It’s really killing me. Been trying everything to dislodge it all day. Tongue, floss, toothpicks, table knives. It’s really making me crazy.

Jim

P.S. Hey, I got it out!

February 27, 1923

Stan-

Figured out what the next book is about. Takes place in America and there’s this guy who takes pictures of bridges. He falls in love with a farmer’s wife or something.

Either that or it’s a book about a guy who hates ham. Haven’t decided yet.

J

March 25, 1937

Stan-

Just found my pencil. Been looking for it all morning. Things are definitely looking up…

J

August 26, 1928

Stan-

Hired a new secretary named Beckett. Writes letters for me. I read them and I have no idea what he’s talking about. One to the phone company starts “The bill. The bill. The bill. I can’t talk about the bill.” What the hell does that mean? It means I am in hell.

jj

December 17, 1931

Stan

Greetings from Paris. Yesterday, my son said “Let’s go see Napoleon’s tomb.” Yes, let’s, I thought. And don’t let the fact that I’m blind stop us. Christ.

And even if I could see, why would I want to look at the remains of a dead Corsican when there are hookers flashing their hoo-hahs in Pigalle? Idiots.

J

June 16, 1940

Stan

Summer is here. Remember when we were kids, all the fun we used to have running through the fields, swimming in the river, and laughing our heads off? And then, before we knew it, it was time for dinner and we’d ask ourselves, “where did the day go?” Yeah, me neither.

Jimbo

May 15, 1911

Stan

Greetings from Trieste

People in this city don’t know how to walk. Either they take little mincing steps or long loping strides. I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.

JJ

November 9, 1915

Stan

Had a wonderful dinner last night—some delicious Swiss wine, a lovely steak, and then, to top it all off, flan. Wish you could have been here.

Your flan-loving brother, James

p.s. how’s the life in the internment camp?

August 20, 1932

Stan

Yesterday my daughter asked me if I would run off and join the circus with her. Isn’t that precious? She said the two of us could do a high-wire act together and be famous all over Europe. “The Flying Joyces” she called us. Ah, the joys of fatherhood. I only wish she wasn’t 25.

Jim

February 2, 1938

Stan

So I wake up this morning and suddenly I can see. Good news, right? Wrong. My agent tells me that the “blind writer angle” is key to our sales. So whenever anyone comes over, I have to put on the dark glasses, carry a cane and bump into shit. Somebody shoot me.

J

January 11, 1941

Dear Asshole

You still owe me fifteen pounds from lunch last month, and when I get out of hospital next week I’m gonna come over there and kick you until you’re dead.

Your brother, Jim