When Dwayne Raymond worked as a young waiter in Provincetown, Massachusetts, he was invited to join Norman Mailer in a project. Mailer was 79 at the time, and had an overly-ambitious plan for a project estimated to take eleven years.
As the project is revealed to us, we’re also treated to a look at the variety of moods that accompanied Mailer through the day. He moves from brilliant to gruff and frustrated, hungry for a good sandwich, and stimulated by conversation. As Mailer and his wife Norris grow comfortable with this “Man Friday” in their home, Raymond begins cooking for them, and helping with other activities for the older couple. His work in Mailer’s office and his help with writing tasks develops into a wonderful bond between the two men; each a gift to the other.
Mailer’s wife enjoyed Raymond’s company, too, as he writes of their time together: “Our morning meetings became a two-way therapy session that both of us came to count on through the years.”
Mornings With Mailer becomes an honest memoir of Raymond’s days with the aging couple. His assistance in keeping Mailer organized and anticipating his every need results in four books they produced together, including Mailer’s latest novel The Castle in the Forest.
Raymond was privileged to learn from the master who taught him how to improve his writing: ”Well, learn your rhythm. Organize the loud and the quiet. The sounds are the muscle.”
Mailer’s prolific writing career carried plenty of muscle, and Mornings With Mailer is a fine tribute to the man and his work.TIP:
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blook bogger
Kerry Lauerman
Joan Walsh
Salon.com
Comments
The second thing I said was about meeting Mailer at 22 racing off a bus cause he was pherome-city and then wow how embarrassing. Though he was, despite all feminist rhetoric, sweetness itself.
A couple of years ago, when he was 80 he wrote a column in NYRB that blew me away, smart. I answered him, though unlike emails or PM posts the Review never lets you see your comment unless you copy it which I did not. He wanted, through an assistant, your guy? my book on the middle east and I sent it with a note about that day in Nov 65. He lost it and so sweetly asked for it again. I sent the note and book about 4 more times and then he died. I did not so care about the book but the note, how I tapped him and around he swung all smiles. that's the gist of what I said. Since I did not know that Miami beach makes one sign in every three hours I couldn't understand why I could not rate. Now I have. More!