Fangirling Over a James Scholar
or, how The Henry James Society took a chance on an unknown grad student
“Just read from what you have there.”
My teacher was losing his patience with me, and I looked around at my classmates. No one was as excited about this book as I was, which made no sense.
It was a class on textual bibliography, book history and the value of following a book’s physical life, and I rested my hand on the book assigned to me, as if it could offer support. I had already shared my interest in Henry James with Robert, our professor, before he offered titles for our reports, so he had raised his eyebrows when I squealed and reached for this one.
“Not a surprise,” he had muttered with a smile.
He wasn’t smiling now, not when I stopped reading my report and trailed off on some tangent I can’t remember now, nearly twenty years later. The clock was ticking, and nobody had time for me to fangirl, not in an evening class of students in the doctoral program that I still couldn’t believe accepted me over a year ago.
I focused on my written report and was thrilled at the few questions that followed, but no one appreciated Friction with the Market as I did, except for my teacher.
Robert would go on to become my dissertation director, his brutal honesty key in shaping a valuable study worthy of James and his literary agent, J.B. Pinker, but that is another story. This one is about how I discovered my favorite James scholar, Michael Anesko, author of my report subject, Friction with the Market.
My six year old daughter had been my research assistant for years, and she took on microfilm and microfiche searching duties while we investigated the advertising history for James’ The Golden Bowl for another project in Robert’s class. We still joke about the imagined financial output to promote Beverly of Graustark compared to that for James’ masterpiece, and I have a copy of George Barr McCutcheon’s drama on my bookshelf for that reason alone.
I’m wandering again. Robert would not approve.
In late 2007, I decided to write about a discovery I made in a Joyce Carol Oates short story, and submitted this James-related study in response to call issued by The Henry James Society for their Newport conference in the summer of 2008. I didn’t expect it to be accepted, but it was.
Many of the James scholars I had been reading and using in my PhD studies would be there, including Anesko. I polished my piece and worried about opening my mouth and proving myself an idiot in front of all these brilliant minds as the weather grew warmer, and I knew that Newport, like Ohio, would be sizzling in the July heat.
It was.
My hair frizzed up and stuck out on the sides of my head, and the air conditioning in the dorm, where I rented a tiny bedroom cheaply, didn’t work. I bought a small fan from a drugstore that did little more than move the hot air around the room.
But it didn’t matter. When I walked into the conference space at the gorgeous Salve Regina University, I saw Anesko right away. My best intentions of not freaking out were forgotten as I hurried to offer him my copy of Friction with the Market to sign. He was quiet and kind as I explained how much I loved his work, and as the conference progressed, he even approached me to talk or ask if he could sit beside me during panel presentations.
I was excited to place faces with names when it came to meeting others at the conference, and had plenty to talk about with them as well. Maybe I was the only one jumping up and down or squealing during these conversations, but then again, maybe not. Those of us in the James fandom do love The Master.
During free time, I swam in the ocean at Gooseberry Beach and spent the next day sunburned to a crisp, and at one point, I lost my shoes while wandering the cool grass around the university. No one said a word when I sat with my bare feet tucked under my rear end while listening to a panel that afternoon, and I bought flip flops to wear for the rest of the conference and the plane ride home.
Several established and respected female scholars encouraged me to go to dinner with them at the White Horse Tavern, where they proceeded to finish off several bottles of wine and tell hilarious stories I wish I had written down afterwards. They were generous and patient with me, when I was still a graduate student, late to the game, and with little experience in academia.
Michael has been kind enough to stay in touch all these years, with holiday cards and wonderful, unexpected surprises like a copy of his latest book. I wonder if we will ever meet again, or if he, or anyone who was present those few days in July of 2008 at the James Society conference in Newport, know how much their welcome into their small fold meant, and means, to me.
A middle aged author declining in popularity. An up and coming literary agent with an eye for genius. A partnership that would forge a prodigious legacy in American literature. Read An Eye for Genius today.
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