Nathanael West - Miss Lonelyhearts

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Title: Miss Lonelyhearts (1933)Author: Nathaniel West* A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook *eBook No.: 0608851h.htmlLanguage: EnglishDate first posted: November 2006Date most recently updated: November 2006Project Gutenberg of Australia eBooks are created from printed editionswhich are in the public domain in Australia, unless a copyright noticeis included. We do NOT keep any eBooks in compliance with a particularpaper edition.Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check thecopyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing thisfile.This eBook is made available at no cost and with almost no restrictionswhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the termsof the Project Gutenberg of Australia License which may be viewed online athttp://gutenberg.net.au/licence.html

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The Miss Lonelyhearts of The New York Post-Dispatch(Are-you-in-trouble?--Do-you-need-advice?--Write-to-Miss-Lonelyhearts-and-she-will-help-you)sat at his desk and stared at a piece of white cardboard. On it aprayer had been printed by Shrike, the feature editor.

"Soul of Miss L, glorify me.Body of Miss L, nourish meBlood of Miss L, intoxicate me.Tears of Miss L, wash me.Oh good Miss L, excuse my plea,And hide me in your heart,And defend me from mine enemies.Help me, Miss L, help me, help me.In saecula saeculorum. Amen."

Although the deadline was less than a quarter of an hour away,he was still working on his leader. He had gone as far as: "Lifeis worth while, for it is full of dreams and peace,gentleness and ecstasy, and faith that burns like a clear whiteflame on a grim dark altar." But he found it impossible tocontinue. The letters were no longer funny. He could not go onfinding the same joke funny thirty times a day for months on end.And on most days he received more than thirty letters, all ofthem alike, stamped from the dough of suffering with aheart-shaped cookie knife.

On his desk were piled those he had received this morning. Hestarted through them again, searching for some clue to a sincereanswer.

Dear Miss Lonelyhearts--

I am in such pain I dont know what to do sometimes I thinkI will kill myself my kidneys hurt so much. My husband thinks nowoman can be a good catholic and not have children irregardlessof the pain. I was married honorable from our church but I neverknew what married life meant as I never was told about man andwife. My grandmother never told me and she was the only mother Ihad but made a big mistake by not telling me as it dont pay to beinnocent and is only a big disappointment. I have 7 children in12 yrs and ever since the last 2 I have been so sick. I wasoperated on twice and my husband promised no more children on thedoctors advice as he said I might die but when I got back fromthe hospital he broke his promise and now I am going to have ababy and I dont think I can stand it my kidneys hurt so much. Iam so sick and scared because I cant have an abortion on accountof being a catholic and my husband so religious. I cry all thetime it hurts so much and I dont know what to do.

Yours respectfully,

Sick-of-it-all

Miss Lonelyhearts threw the letter into an open drawer and lita cigarette.

Dear Miss Lonelyhearts--

I am sixteen years old now and I dont know what to do andwould appreciate it if you could tell me what to do. When I was alittle girl it was not so bad because I got used to the kids onthe block makeing fun of me, but now I would like to have boyfriends like the other girls and go out on Saturday nites, but noboy will take me because I was born without a nose--although I ama good dancer and have a nice shape and my father buys me prettyclothes.

I sit and look at myself all day and cry. I have a big holein the middle of my face that scares people even myself so I cantblame the boys for not wanting to take me out. My mother lovesme, but she crys terrible when she looks at me.

What did I do to deserve such a terrible bad fate? Even ifI did do some bad things I didnt do any before I was a year oldand I was born this way. I asked Papa and he says he doesnt know,but that maybe I did something in the other world before I wasborn or that maybe I was being punished for his sins. I dontbelieve that because he is a very nice man. Ought I commitsuicide?

Sincerely yours,

Desperate

The cigarette was imperfect and refused to draw. MissLonelyhearts took it out of his mouth and stared at it furiously.He fought himself quiet, then lit another one.

Dear Miss Lonelyhearts--

I am writing to you for my little sister Grade becausesomething awfull hapened to her, and I am afraid to tell motherabout it. I am 15 years old and Gracie is 13 and we live inBrooklyn. Gracie is deaf and dumb and biger than me but not verysmart on account of being deaf and dumb. She plays on the roof ofour house and dont go to school except to deaf and dumb schooltwice a week on tuesdays and thursdays. Mother makes her play onthe roof because we dont want her to get run over as she aintvery smart. Last week a man came on the roof and did somethingdirty to her. She told me about it and I dont know what to do asI am afraid to tell mother on account of her being liable to beatGrade up. I am afraid that Gracie is going to have a baby and Ilistened to her stomack last night for a long time to see if Icould hear the baby but I couldn't. If I tell mother she willbeat Gracie up awfull because I am the only one who loves her andlast time when she tore her dress they Joked her in the closetfor 2 days and if the boys on the blok hear about it they willsay dirty things like they did on Peewee Conors sister the timeshe got caught in the lots. So please what would you do if thesame hapened in your family.

Yours truly,

Harold S.

He stopped reading. Christ was the answer, but, if he did notwant to get sick, he had to stay away from the Christ business.Besides, Christ was Shrike's particular joke. "Soul of Miss L,glorify me. Body of Miss L, save me. Blood of..." He turned tohis typewriter.

Although his cheap clothes had too much style, he still lookedlike the son of a Baptist minister. A beard would become him,would accent his Old-Testament look. But even without a beard noone could fail to recognize the New England puritan. His foreheadwas high and narrow. His nose was long and fleshless. His bonychin was shaped and cleft like a hoof. On seeing him for thefirst time, Shrike had smiled and said, "The Susan Chesters, theBeatrice Fairfaxes and the Miss Lonelyhearts are the priests oftwentieth-century America."

A copy boy came up to tell him that Shrike wanted to know ifthe stuff was ready. He bent over the typewriter and beganpounding its keys.

But before he had written a dozen words, Shrike leaned overhis shoulder. "The same old stuff," Shrike said. "Why don't yougive them something new and hopeful? Tell them about art. Here,I'll dictate:

"Art Is a Way Out.

"Do not let life overwhelm you. When the old paths are chokedwith the debris of failure, look for newer and fresher paths. Artis just such a path. Art is distilled from suffering. As Mr.Polnikoff exclaimed through his fine Russian beard, when, at theage of eighty-six, he gave up his business to learn Chinese, 'Weare, as yet, only at the beginning...

"Art Is One of Life's Richest Offerings.

"For those who have not the talent to create, there isappreciation. For those...

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