Many years ago, I was fascinated by Diana Trilling’s memoir, The Beginning of the Journey: The Marriage of Diana and Lionel Trilling. Perhaps the Trillings are forgotten these days, but these two left-wing critics were a force in 20th century.  Diana Trilling (1905-1996) wrote reviews for The Nation, a famous left-wing paper, and also published collections of essays and journalism. Lionel was the better-known of the two, the first tenured Jewish professor in the English department at Columbia University, a brilliant critic, prolific essayist, short story writer, and novelist.  His most famous book is probably The Liberal Imagination.

The lives of Diana and Lionel were more closely intertwined than those of most couples: both were left-wing, anti-Stalinist members of The New York Intellectuals, a radical group which Mary McCarthy satirized in her novel The Oasis.  Diana and Lionel also underwent painful, unhelpful psychoanalysis for many years.  Diana felt that she was “never properly psychoanalyzed.”

However, what struck me about Diana is her perception that she was not believed.  It was something about her personality: the way she presented herself did not seem to match her achievements.  People who did not know her well were openly skeptical.

I have to say, this struck a chord.  In general, people believe me, because they know me, because I have lived in the same place for years, but I went through a period when I never slept – and I mean that literally.  I was under a lot of stress, and when that happens my body forgets how to sleep.

So every couple of weeks I would show up at work with raccoon circles around my eyes, unable to do the simplest task without coffee. (Friends pointed out that coffee did not help with the insomnia, but I found it made no difference, caffeine or no caffeine, except to my personal comfort.)

Once I interviewed a scruffy, querulous poet at a coffeehouse, because where else does a caffeine addict do her work, and he was very rude to me.  I stammered a bit, and he said he wondered if I was up to the job. I did not react but simply continued asking questions.  And then when the article was published, he called to compliment me.  “Thank you!  That was brilliant   I owe you an apology. I didn’t think you were up to the job.” 

“Glad you liked the article,” I said, sipping coffee.  

I would say that 49 times out of 5o  this did NOT happen, but I was ill with fatigue for years, and paradoxically anti-pill – no aspirin, no Excedrin PM.  On one occasion, when I interviewed a jockey, I had really good notes, even if I was I was a beat or two behind during the actual conversation.  I mean, I loved the horses – I’d never been around horses before –  and i’d never been to the racetrack before.   A month or two later, when the profile was published, somebody from  the racetrack called to compliment me. “Wow, great article, we loved it!  Since you didn’t know horses, we weren’t sure you could do it. ” 

“Glad you liked the article,” was my standard response.

And so I understood Diana Trilling’s frustration.  I don’t remember the details of her experiences, but it shimmers vaguely in my memory.