25 Oct 1921

25 October 1921

Chalet des Sapins, Montana-sur-Sierre, Switzerland

My book is to lie in Constables bosom until after the new year. Its called, after all, The Garden-Party. I hope you like the title. The Mercury is publishing one of the stories in a month or two - terribly long. Too long for the Mercury. But that's enough & too much about me. And now I have forgotten my health. Thank you, dearest Violet. I think my lungs are quiescent - rather the disease is. My heart is the same at present. But I feel much better - a different person altogether on the whole. No longer an invalid, even tho' I still can't walk & still cough and so on.
   Its interesting what you say about Sheila Kaye-Smith. Ill try & get her book. Murry is rereading Proust - all from the beginning. So far he likes it infinitely more than the first time. Ive been reading the book of Job! There are times when I turn to the bible. It is marvellous! As for papers - I wonder what you read? The Dial? It is improved, I think. Its a mixed lot but on the whole there is always something in it. I thought Lawrence was good this month - so warm - so living. In spite of everything Lawrence's feeling for life is there.
   Poor Eliot sounds tired to death. His London letter is all a maze of words. One feels the awful effort behind it - as though he were being tortured. But perhaps thats all wrong and he enjoys writing it. I don't think people ought to be as tired as that, though. It is wrong.
   It is sad to hear of the tree being attacked by its cruelle maladie. I shall see that tree for ever.

[To Violet Schiff, 24 October 1921.]