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Salter, James. (1925–2015). Typed Letter Signed about Judaism, with an Autograph Postcard. A very interesting typed letter signed from the American novelist and short-story writer to writer Elizabeth Benedict, regarding his Jewish identity. In response to Benedict's idea of an anthology of essays by Jewish writers who were not often known as such, Salter writes to decline her invitation to write an essay, but eloquently describes his changing relationship to Judaism through his life. Aspen, November 22, [1993]. 2 pp., together with original envelope. In very fine condition.

Salter describes his childhood: "I grew up in an irreligious house. This was in New York City. Of my closest childhood friends, one was Jewish, the son of concert pianist, and two were not. I wasn't aware of the real difference. Gradually, of course, I came to be. I heard of the Knickerbocker Grays, for instance, to which friends belonged, and learned that the Grays were restricted. Still it meant little and more decisive was the fact that in our house history, the history of diasters, massacres, expulsions, executions, was never discussed or perhaps known. I grew up believing I was an unblemished American and that my fate was inseparable from the fate of all Americans." 

During his time in the Army, Salter "decided to hold his course, to vanish into the secular. You cannot do that, people say. It depends. I live in a secular world. The things I think about and write about have to do with other great divisions and beliefs. It would be different if I wrote about social and cultural things. Chagall was a Jewish painter; Bellow, Babel, and Roth are Jewish writers; but was Gershwin a Jewish composer or Wittgenstein a Jewish philosopher? A complicated question—to the last two my question would be 'no.' That is to say, their work does not depend upon it or demonstrate it. But returning to history, this does not protect Gershwin or Wittgenstein from destruction. No, it does not. What more can be said?" Salter mentions that he was annoyed when a friend revealed his given surname, Horowitz, in the Times Magazine. "I felt I had stepped beyond that. I had served and belonged under that name, but this was another life and a different standard. I remain in that life and I have bet everything on it. So let us say that out of cowardice, a desire for comfort, or being early misled I have slipped from the ranks and tried to cross into a neutral country—deserted. If they catch me and shoot me, that was the risk. I am sorry to disappoint my ancestors. They never sang to me. They never said you are one of our own. If there is a God, it is the same one for all people and He will judge us by our acts and not our beliefs. I should say, He will weigh our dust."

Together with an autograph postcard to Benedict from Salter, thanking her for a positive review. Aspen, March 13, 1986. Together with the original envelope, in very fine condition.

Benedict writes: "My epistolary relationship with James Salter started in 1986, the result of a book review I wrote for the Philadelphia Inquirer, and his “thank you” postcard reply, mailed to my then-publisher, Knopf. Back in the day, if you were a regular reviewer, it was not uncommon to call up a book editor you knew, as I knew the Inquirer’s Carlin Romano, and ask to review a particular book. I had recently come upon reprints of two favorite books by the then not-widely-known literary writer, James Salter. I’d learned of Salter in about 1978, from John Casey. I’d read Light Years in a state of writerly intoxication, and then A Sport and a Pastime. Salter was then what was called “a writer’s writer,” meaning he had only a small, literary audience. When North Point Press reprinted both books at the same time in 1986, I jumped at the chance to write about them in the same review. My review began with this sentence: “Admirers of James Salter’s fiction speak of it reverently, with delicacy, almost in awe, expressions of the enthusiasm befitting the work.” I think it’s fair to say that Salter had not received much attention in those years, and he was grateful for mine.  

"In 1993, I had an idea for an anthology of essays and contacted a number of writers. They were Jewish writers who did not write about their Judaism in their fiction, going against the impulse of many of the century’s writers who were and did (Malamud, Bellow, Roth). I am Jewish myself but had avoided exploring it in my fiction and was curious about others who seemed to have made the same decision.  I didn’t get enough writers to compile a collection, but I did receive an astonishing letter in response from James Salter. I had known Salter was Jewish before it was publicly known as a friend had gone to West Point with Salter, whose name was then Horowitz, and he’d shown me his page in the West Point year book. Salter’s somewhat tormented relationship with his Judaism is the subject of the letter! I did not show Salter’s letter to anyone until after he died in 2015, by which time he had become quite acclaimed."



Salter, James. (1925–2015) Typed Letter Signed about Judaism, with an Autograph Postcard

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Salter, James. (1925–2015). Typed Letter Signed about Judaism, with an Autograph Postcard. A very interesting typed letter signed from the American novelist and short-story writer to writer Elizabeth Benedict, regarding his Jewish identity. In response to Benedict's idea of an anthology of essays by Jewish writers who were not often known as such, Salter writes to decline her invitation to write an essay, but eloquently describes his changing relationship to Judaism through his life. Aspen, November 22, [1993]. 2 pp., together with original envelope. In very fine condition.

Salter describes his childhood: "I grew up in an irreligious house. This was in New York City. Of my closest childhood friends, one was Jewish, the son of concert pianist, and two were not. I wasn't aware of the real difference. Gradually, of course, I came to be. I heard of the Knickerbocker Grays, for instance, to which friends belonged, and learned that the Grays were restricted. Still it meant little and more decisive was the fact that in our house history, the history of diasters, massacres, expulsions, executions, was never discussed or perhaps known. I grew up believing I was an unblemished American and that my fate was inseparable from the fate of all Americans." 

During his time in the Army, Salter "decided to hold his course, to vanish into the secular. You cannot do that, people say. It depends. I live in a secular world. The things I think about and write about have to do with other great divisions and beliefs. It would be different if I wrote about social and cultural things. Chagall was a Jewish painter; Bellow, Babel, and Roth are Jewish writers; but was Gershwin a Jewish composer or Wittgenstein a Jewish philosopher? A complicated question—to the last two my question would be 'no.' That is to say, their work does not depend upon it or demonstrate it. But returning to history, this does not protect Gershwin or Wittgenstein from destruction. No, it does not. What more can be said?" Salter mentions that he was annoyed when a friend revealed his given surname, Horowitz, in the Times Magazine. "I felt I had stepped beyond that. I had served and belonged under that name, but this was another life and a different standard. I remain in that life and I have bet everything on it. So let us say that out of cowardice, a desire for comfort, or being early misled I have slipped from the ranks and tried to cross into a neutral country—deserted. If they catch me and shoot me, that was the risk. I am sorry to disappoint my ancestors. They never sang to me. They never said you are one of our own. If there is a God, it is the same one for all people and He will judge us by our acts and not our beliefs. I should say, He will weigh our dust."

Together with an autograph postcard to Benedict from Salter, thanking her for a positive review. Aspen, March 13, 1986. Together with the original envelope, in very fine condition.

Benedict writes: "My epistolary relationship with James Salter started in 1986, the result of a book review I wrote for the Philadelphia Inquirer, and his “thank you” postcard reply, mailed to my then-publisher, Knopf. Back in the day, if you were a regular reviewer, it was not uncommon to call up a book editor you knew, as I knew the Inquirer’s Carlin Romano, and ask to review a particular book. I had recently come upon reprints of two favorite books by the then not-widely-known literary writer, James Salter. I’d learned of Salter in about 1978, from John Casey. I’d read Light Years in a state of writerly intoxication, and then A Sport and a Pastime. Salter was then what was called “a writer’s writer,” meaning he had only a small, literary audience. When North Point Press reprinted both books at the same time in 1986, I jumped at the chance to write about them in the same review. My review began with this sentence: “Admirers of James Salter’s fiction speak of it reverently, with delicacy, almost in awe, expressions of the enthusiasm befitting the work.” I think it’s fair to say that Salter had not received much attention in those years, and he was grateful for mine.  

"In 1993, I had an idea for an anthology of essays and contacted a number of writers. They were Jewish writers who did not write about their Judaism in their fiction, going against the impulse of many of the century’s writers who were and did (Malamud, Bellow, Roth). I am Jewish myself but had avoided exploring it in my fiction and was curious about others who seemed to have made the same decision.  I didn’t get enough writers to compile a collection, but I did receive an astonishing letter in response from James Salter. I had known Salter was Jewish before it was publicly known as a friend had gone to West Point with Salter, whose name was then Horowitz, and he’d shown me his page in the West Point year book. Salter’s somewhat tormented relationship with his Judaism is the subject of the letter! I did not show Salter’s letter to anyone until after he died in 2015, by which time he had become quite acclaimed."