Liberation by Christopher Isherwood Read Free Book Online

something, each day. Yesterday I finished chapter 16, which is almost entirely copying. The war material speaks for itself. So will chapter 17, which is Kathleen’s account of her efforts to find out what had happened to Frank. This nearly makes me cry whenever I read it. It mustn’t be commented on, or I shall spoil it. I think one more chapter after that will finish the book. I see that I can’t write very much about Christopher at the end; it would be beginning another story.
    Today is Gavin’s birthday, so we’re taking him out tonight to have dinner at La Grange. Not a word about our play, either from Ellis Rabb or from England, but now we have the top copy and a xerox from Chartwell. From Robin French we hear that the Chris in the filmscript of the Cabaret film is homosexual but makes it with Sally! Also that Gertrude Macy’s lawyer has started dickering to get back part of the money that’s being withheld from her, rather than accept arbitration. Robin says this proves she knows that her case is weak.
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    July 24. What’s the use of getting up at half past six to turn off the alarm? I stagger back to bed, and then we snooze (sensually speaking, this is the most beautiful part of the twenty-four hours) and then we do get up at maybe half past seven or more likely a quarter to eight, and then there’s a bleared “meditation” (anyhow as far as I’m concerned) chiefly concerned with thoughts about my book, and then breakfast on the deck (beautiful, too) and then around nine we’re ready for action. . . . Well, now it’s just after eleven and what have I accomplished? Called Cukor to apologize for not having shown up last night with Gavin for a birthday drink (we didn’t get out of the restaurant till ten forty-five), arranged with Swami for Jim Gates to visit him on Sunday next with his adored Gib 17 who is down for the weekend from up north (this visit will probably be regarded by the powers of Vedanta Place as a flagrant breach of security regulations and I shall be blamed by Ananda 18 ). Then I’ve been to the mail and found a letter from Bob Chetwyn more or less offering to find us another producer if we ditch Clement. And now I’m writing this diary before starting work on chapter 17.
    Cukor took advantage of our talking on the phone to ask me [to] come for a drink to meet some clergyman he knows from Vancouver, which sounds too tiresome. When I politely said of course I’d like to come, in the first place because I want to see you again, Cukor obviously meant to return the compliment, but what he said was, “I want to see me again too!” Now and then he seems quite gaga. He also contrived to wish on me the chore of refusing to organize a T.V. show about Aldous [Huxley], which Laura [Huxley] had suggested he should do!
    The birthday evening with Gavin was quite a success. We opened the bottle of Dom Pérignon which Jennifer [Selznick] gave Don for his birthday and this pleased him as a symbolic act, though he didn’t finish his glass. Dinner was good too, at La Grange, which is in many ways the best restaurant we know around here. Gavin was probably feeling a bit depressed because he has just had a fuss with Christopher Wedow [. . .]. 19 Christopher descended on him a short while ago and I think Gavin already feels stuck with him and anxious to get him out of the house.
    Jim Gates, talking to me on the phone the other day, said, referring to his job at the Goodwill: “I’m really a good employee because I’m so likeable.” This is a perfect specimen of his sincerer-than-thou dialogue, the tone of voice which so disgusts Don. Me rather, too—but I can never quite make up my mind about Jim, and I am fond of him in spite of it.
    Poor Jim Bridges is threatened with appendicitis and may have to have an operation; he’s being examined today. Jack is also suffering, psychologically, from being bitten by his