The Edna Webster Collection of Undiscovered Writing by Richard Brautigan came in the mail yesterday. This is a collection of Brautigan’s writing from when he was young [21 or so] and unpublished. It sat in a safe deposit box for years until Edna Webster, the mother of his first girlfriend, contacted a publisher.
I’m glad I picked it up. I read it in about an hour while sunning myself in the park yesterday. Some of the work in the collection was amazing, some was solid, and some was still a bit immature, so it was good to see some seminal Brautigan and the hints for what was to come. In some sense it is easier for me to connect with these poems, because Mr. Brautigan is still fresh and his glumness seems only passing. This is in stark contrast to his later work where it is the humor that is only passing, or is only gallows humor.
One more book and I think I’ll have just about everything he’s written.