Dear Marion,

My "browser" with which I scan the Internet has been named "SeaMonkey"
by its creators, who have given SeaMonkey a mind of her own. SeaMonkey,
of course, also reads my e-mail, and on occasion expresses her literary
judgments. Your letter she tagged with the simple, unambiguous warning:
"SeaMonkey thinks this message is junk."

Before addressing the merits of SeaMonkey's insight, I would like to point
out the ominous implications of SeaMonkey's artificial intelligence for the
practice of medicine, inasmuch as a browser that deems herself capable of
literary criticism will surely also deem herself capable of making diagnoses,
prescribing therapy, and quite generally adjudicating the competence and
efficiency of the physicians under her auspices. Our government believes
that SeaMonkey and her likes ride the wave of the future and will solve
the health-care dilemmas. I'm afraid they will.

At the risk of demonstrating a chauvinistic disrespect for SeaMonkey's
intelligence, I disagree with her assessment of your e-mail.
To my reading, there is in your letter a depth of meaning
of which its author must have been, if at all, only dimly aware. 
To explicate, I'll quote the relevant sections.

> .... the Abe Zandstra novel.  

My apologies for my sloppiness in misspelling the pseudonym of the guy,
goy, character, gentleman, protagonist, Harvard bibliographer, musicologist,
author - doubly your your choice, though he himself seems to be somewhat
uncertain both of his name and of his attribute: referring to "Abe Zandsta's
Discovery.doc" (sic) in the designation of the computer file, "Abe Zanstra's
Dilemma" on the title page of the computer script, "Zanstra" in 73 lines of
the computer file (my computer can count) while "Zansta" not at all.
Did Abe create the dilemma by making a discovery, so that absent his
discovery, there would have been no dilemma; or did the dilemma exist
independent of Abe, and had the dilemma not been discovered by Abe,
it would likely have been discovered by someone else. 

The rudimentary validity of this question is demonstrated when one
substitutes Jochen for Abe. Did Jochen create the dilemma by making a
discovery, so that absent Jochen's discovery, there would have been no
dilemma; or did the dilemma exist independent of Jochen, and had the
dilemma not been uncovered by Jochen, it would likely have been uncovered
by someone else.

A bit of unsolicited legal advice: suggest to Micha that he shouldn't
disseminate _any_ of his writing without a notice: "Copyright by Micha
Namenwirth 2009" attached. It's my understanding - but I haven't done
the necessary research on this - that to protect the author's rights
against plagiarism and piracy, nothing more is required.

You write:
> For me, Micha's writing really took off primarily in the passages
> where he described music; for example, at the concert and during
> the prior rehearsals, when Abe listened to the composers performing
> their pieces in different styles and with different personal tics, etc.

I haven't yet come across the passages descriptive of music. I'll be
on the lookout for them as I continue to read. Nathaniel, whose judgment
in this regard I consider trustworthy, pointed out that in Dr. Faustus,
Th Mann gives a translation into literature of a fictitious musical
composition (Dr. Fausti Weheklag) so meticulous that he, Nathaniel,
can (almost) hear the notes. I'll need to reread Dr. Faustus
and listen to the music.
 
> Your remark about the prevalence of Jews among Micha's characters
> brought this to mind:  I've repeatedly wondered why it is that,
> without intending it, it turns out that almost all of the people
> I have become friends with in my life are Jewish.  It's uncanny.
  
No surprise to me, some of my best friends are Jews....
 
> This morning Margrit told me of her intention to fly to Detroit
> on Wednesday. I urged her to tell you soon, since you need
> to keep your own life organized. She said she would tell you
> this evening, though she dreaded saying it because she anticipated
> that it would make you depressed. 

Margrits geistiger Stoffwechsel ist verblueffend seicht und
widerspruechlich. Ihr Erleben des Zusammenseins wie des Abschieds
ist lediglich zeremoniell. Fuer sie besteht des Lebens Wirklichkeit 
in der Geburtstagsfeier, in der Schulabschlussfeier, in der Bar Mizwa,
und sie spart keine Muehe und keine Kosten um dergleichen beizuwohnen.
Das Pathos der Trennung laesst sie unbeeindruckt. Fuer das Erleben
wie Hoelderlin es so wunderbar beschrieben hat, fehlt ihr das Organ.

Margrit's intellectual metabolism is astoundingly shallow and
contradictory. Her experience of community is sheer ceremony.
For her the reality of life consists in birthday parties, graduation
ceremonies, bar mitzvas in which to particitae she spares no effort
and no expense. Her relationships to the children - as to her friends -
are highlighted by taking them out to dinner. My father's oft ironically
repeated mantra: "Keine Feier ohne Meyer" echos in my mind. Check it out.
http://www.google.de/search?hl=de&q=keine+feier+ohne+meyer&btnG=Suche&meta=&aq=f&oq=
The pathos of parting leaves my sister cold. The experience of separation
that Hoelderlin described in his monumental verses lacks meaning for her:

Der Abschied

Trennen wollten wir uns? wähnten es gut und klug?
Da wirs taten, warum schreckte, wie Mord, die Tat?
Ach! wir kennen uns wenig,
Denn es waltet ein Gott in uns.

Den verraten? ach ihn, welcher uns alles erst,
Sinn und Leben erschuf, ihn, den beseelenden
Schutzgott unserer Liebe,
Dies, dies Eine vermag ich nicht.

Aber anderen Fehl denket der Menschen Sinn,
Andern ehernen Dienst übt er und anders Recht,
Und es listet die Seele
Tag für Tag der Gebrauch uns ab.

Wohl! ich wußt' es zuvor. Seit der gewurzelte
Allentzweinde Hass Götter und Menschen trennt,
Muß, mit Blut sie zu sühnen,
Muß der Liebenden Herz vergehn.

Laß mich schweigen! o laß nimmer von nun an mich
Dieses Tödliche sehn, daß ich im Frieden doch
Hin ins Einsame ziehe,
Und noch unser der Abschied sei!

Reich die Schale mir selbst, daß ich des rettenden
Heilgen Giftes genug, daß ich des Lethetranks
Mit dir trinke, daß alles
Haß und Liebe vergessen sei!

Hingehn will ich. Vielleicht seh' ich in langer Zeit
Diotima! dich hier. Aber verblutet ist
Dann das Sehnen und friedlich
Gleich den Seligen fremd sind wir.

Wir umher, ein Gespräch führet uns ab und auf,
Sinnend, zögernd, doch itzt mahnt die Vergessenen
Hier die Stelle des Abschieds,
Es erwarmet ein Herz in uns,

Staunend seh' ich dich an, Stimmen und süßen Sang,
Wie aus voriger Zeit hör' ich und Saitenspiel,
Und die Lilie duftet
Golden über dem Bach uns auf.


> Margrit said that the same guy as previously arranged would now
> drive her car to Detroit, with no change in the arrangement
> except that Margrit wouldn't drive with them.

Thanks for letting me know. I consider this an optimal arrangement
both for Margrit and for Russell Kirby. When you speak with her on
the phone, please coach her on the advisability preliminary to
the trip: a) of letting Russell (the guy) drive her car for a few days
to satisfy himself as to its mechanical reliability for so lengthy
a trip, b) of asking Jeane Walls to pack those of Margrit's belongings
that she wishes to have brought along in sturdy plastic bags as opposed
to cardboard boxes, - to make optimal use of the very limited space.
Of course, Jeane will also need to open the garage for Russell and give
him the key to the Miata. It's hung on the wall in the kitchen, between
the telephone and the bathroom door.  Since Jeane is absorbed in and
exhausted by taking care of her demented sister-in-law, Jeane should
be given time to schedule her participation this project as is convenient
for her.
 
> Since you had mentioned it and it was news to me,
> I asked Margrit whether it was true
> that she rents two apartments in her building. 
> She said yes, that she did this
> because she has such a large number of books;
> she sublets the second apartment. 
> She said, without prompting by questions,
> that she had decided that it would be too expensive to ship
> her large number of books to North Carolina when she moves there. 
> She figures that you would probably want to have them.
> She made no mention of furniture at all. 
 
> Margrit said that she really enjoys it these days
> when you invite her to accompany you around town..

So do I.
 
> Trying to encourage her to give living in Belmont a chance,
> I spun out the notion that her presence could turn out to be very helpful
> in the future if one of you became ill. 
> Margrit agreed and said she had told Klemens
> that if her presence would be helpful for such a reason,
> she would certainly come and stay as long as she was needed.  
 
A frequent topic of exchange between Margrit and myself.
I've consistently taken the position that I need her now.
She doesn't understand.

> She said, though, that she feels that she is totally unlike you,
> Margaret and Klemens, in her tastes, what she likes to do in life. 

At the same time, she emphasizes the "Meyer genes" which make us alike.
She is much aware, that like the other Meyers, she is etwas Besonderes.
Being etwas Besonderes is terribly important to her. Hence the Miata.

> This seems to make her feel inhibited;
> she's trying to not stand out too much, not offend,
> for example by not wearing lipstick or jewelry
> which are part of her usual style. 

I've never seen a trace of lipstick about her for the past fifty years.
Surely, given her general messiness, there would have been 
lipstick cartridges all over the house in Konnarock,
where, over the past two decades, she has spent many months
by herself and entertaining friends.

> She reports that in Belmont she has difficulty falling asleep,

The cause of her insomnia is her fascination with Russian Roulette.
An instance where inability to sleep is a healthy survival instinct.

> has little appetite. 

For someone with little appetite,
she's very effective in emptying the refrigerator.

> She anticipates that she will be in much
> better physical and mental shape when she's back on her own.

You mean, like seven and a half weeks ago, when she
arrived in a wheel chair, anorexic and vomiting for
a week, with an incarcerated strangulated femoral hernia.
In comparison, she's now in the bloom of health.
Are you trying to pull my leg? or are you letting her
pull yours, or both?

> She's very fond of the grandchildren;
> thinks they're wonderful.
> She basks in the affection that Leah shows her,

Leah's real affection is for horses. She shows much empathy.
(Real I hope, but I'm not absolutely sure.) If I were a
horse, I couldn't wait until she entered the stable,
and I'd pine away in despair if she didn't.  Her middle school
classmates have voted her a future successor to Barack Obama.
She's also a candidate for the Feminist Pantheon.

> and marvels at the many musical triumphs
> listed in a biography about Nathaniel
> that she found in your car.
 
> Whatever should befall Margrit when she is off on her own,
> doing her own thing, is DEFINITELY NOT your fault. 
> You have gone way beyond what could reasonably be expected
> in offering her a congenial, protected,
> welcoming environment in which to live,
> and Margrit is the first to acknowledge it. 
> The fact that she doesn't feel comfortable living
> with you is NOT your fault.  It's just life. 

Thank you for the absolution, but it doesn't relieve me of guilt.
In my world, where there is no free will, all actions
are involuntary and accordingly, predestination reigns:
"Alles nur nach Gottes Willen." Bach Kantate #72.
Say to yourself, Some of my best friends are Lutherans,
and find occasion to listen to the cantata.

1. (Coro)
Alles nur nach Gottes Willen,
So bei Lust als Traurigkeit,
So bei gut als böser Zeit.
Gottes Wille soll mich stillen
Bei Gewölk und Sonnenschein.
Alles nur nach Gottes Willen!
Dies soll meine Losung sein.

2. Recitativo e Arioso (altus)
O selger Christ, der allzeit seinen Willen
In Gottes Willen senkt, es gehe wie es gehe,
Bei Wohl und Wehe.
Herr, so du willt, so muss sich alles fügen!
Herr, so du willt, so kannst du mich vergnügen!
Herr, so du willt, verschwindet meine Pein!
Herr, so du willt, werd ich gesund und rein!
Herr, so du willt, wird Traurigkeit zur Freude!
Herr, so du willt, und ich auf Dornen Weide!
Herr, so du willt, werd ich einst selig sein!
Herr, so du willt, - lass mich dies Wort im Glauben fassen
Und meine Seele stillen! -
Herr, so du willt, so sterb ich nicht,
Ob Leib und Leben mich verlassen,
Wenn mir dein Geist dies Wort ins Herze spricht!


3. Aria (altus)
Mit allem, was ich hab und bin,
Will ich mich Jesu lassen,
_   Kann gleich mein schwacher Geist und Sinn
_   Des Höchsten Rat nicht fassen;
_   Er führe mich nur immer hin
_   Auf Dorn- und Rosenstraßen!

4. Recitativo (bass)
So glaube nun!
Dein Heiland saget: Ich wills tun!
Er pflegt die Gnadenhand
Noch willigst auszustrecken,
Wenn Kreuz und Leiden dich erschrecken,
Er kennet deine Not und löst dein Kreuzesband.
Er stärkt, was schwach,
Und will das niedre Dach
Der armen Herzen nicht verschmähen,
Darunter gnädig einzugehen.

5. Aria (soprano)
Mein Jesus will es tun, er will dein Kreuz versüßen.
Obgleich dein Herze liegt in viel Bekümmernissen,
Soll es doch sanft und still in seinen Armen ruhn,
Wenn ihn der Glaube fasst; mein Jesus will es tun!

6. Chorale
Was mein Gott will, das g'scheh allzeit,
Sein Will, der ist der beste,
Zu helfen den'n er ist bereit,
Die an ihn glauben feste.
Er hilft aus Not, der fromme Gott,
Und züchtiget mit Maßen.
Wer Gott vertraut, fest auf ihn baut,
Den will er nicht verlassen.
 
==========================

Or, if the Pre-Socratics are your cup of tea,
consider Anaximander:

"Whence things have their origin,
Thence also their destruction happens,
According to necessity;
For they give to each other justice and recompense
For their injustice
In conformity with the ordinance of Time."

Rightly or wrongly, I've always interpreted this text
to stipulate that existence itself is injustice,
and the only injustice, - and that in dying one discharges
the debts with which ones existence has unavoidably entailed.
My fault is not in what I have done to my sister,
my fault is not what I have said about her,
my fault is not what I have said to her,
my fault is not what I have thought about her,
my fault is the sheer fact of my existence.
 
> Based on my own appraisal,
> I do think you're overly critical of Margrit as a person,
> who she is, what she's accomplished, what she stands for,
> and how she puts that into practice. 

Your comments raise the question of what it means to be
"overly critical." In Konnarock in 1940, 1941 my mother would
discern, describe and analyse the follies and intrigues of
the mission community, and of course relate what she understood
to my father, but perhaps because she thought that the world
was or should be governed by reason and good will, or perhaps
to promote herself and her husband in the eyes of the
ecclesiastical authorities, deemed it appropriate to confide
her insights to the Reverend Paul Andrew Kirsch, DD, the
church potentate responsible for the Konnarock mission.
Dr. Kirsch, as we called him, who could express some simple
thoughts in German, replied to my mother that she might
be correct, but the problem was not the mission's but hers:
"Sie sehen die Dinge zu klar." giving to "Sie" and "sehen"
the sharp enunciation of the English "s".

Your criticism of my criticism has, so it seems to me, a similar
meaning. You do not deny the characteristics of my sister to
which I allude, but you criticise me for my characterization.
You criticise me for not, like my sister, concealing what is
obvious. To the best of my memory, I've never written to you
or said to you on the phone anything derogatory about Margrit.
I've simply repeated what she has said to me, what she has 
written to me, what she has done (to me). And it's for the plain
simple statement of "facts", sacred as they should be to the scientist,
that you fault me. You ask me to become complicit in my sister's
illusions, in what Ibsen would have called "ihre Lebensluege"
(her life-lie) to protect her peace of mind. And in this demand,
I agree with you. You are right. The difficulty arises not
from what I say, because I keep my mouth shut. The difficulty
arises from what I am. The difficulty arises from the image
of the world that my imagination creates. My imagination is
under my control less even than are my actions.

Finally, and I understand well that you will fault me for
even having made the comparison, Margrit is no Antigone.
I will let Sophocles do the talking:

ANTIGONE

O grave, O bridal bower, O prison house
Hewn from the rock, my everlasting home,
Whither I go to join the mighty host
Of kinsfolk, Persephassa's guests long dead,
The last of all, of all more miserable,
I pass, my destined span of years cut short.
And yet good hope is mine that I shall find
A welcome from my sire, a welcome too,
From thee, my mother, and my brother dear;
From with these hands, I laved and decked your limbs
In death, and poured libations on your grave.
And last, my Polyneices, unto thee
I paid due rites, and this my recompense!
Yet am I justified in wisdom's eyes.
For even had it been some child of mine,
Or husband mouldering in death's decay,
I had not wrought this deed despite the State.
What is the law I call in aid?  'Tis thus
I argue.  Had it been a husband dead
I might have wed another, and have borne
Another child, to take the dead child's place.
But, now my sire and mother both are dead,
No second brother can be born for me.
Thus by the law of conscience I was led
To honor thee, dear brother, and was judged
By Creon guilty of a heinous crime.
And now he drags me like a criminal,
A bride unwed, amerced of marriage-song
And marriage-bed and joys of motherhood,
By friends deserted to a living grave.
What ordinance of heaven have I transgressed?
Hereafter can I look to any god
For succor, call on any man for help?
Alas, my piety is impious deemed.
Well, if such justice is approved of heaven,
I shall be taught by suffering my sin;
But if the sin is theirs, O may they suffer
No worse ills than the wrongs they do to me.

=======================

And now, I'll get up from the couch. The psychoanalysis
session is over.

Jochen