Wanda Unveiled

[Alan Westrope]

I didn't bother to read the Tinasky letters, mainly because I never
believed TRP was the author.  A new book, which I'm sure some here are
aware of, sheds some interesting light on this affair.  I'm enclosing some
major points under "Fair Use" provisions, but anyone who wants to learn
the rationale for the author's conclusion will need to read the Tinasky
chapter (pp. 188-220) in its entirety.  The book is:

=============================================================
Foster, Donald W.,  1950-
Author unknown :  on the trail of anonymous
New York :  Henry Holt,  2000.
318 p. ;  25 cm.
Includes bibliographical references (p. [283]-302) and index.
=============================================================

Foster argues quite convincingly that Wanda was Thomas Donald Hawkins,
1/11/27 - 9/23/88.  Hawkins was part of the San Francisco beat scene in the
early '60s, writing and mimeographing his 'zines for his own Ahab Press
(basically a PO Box), while supporting himself by working for the USPS as a
postal clerk.  He recycled some of his old stuff for the Wanda letters:

In days of old when knights were bold
And rubbers were not invented,
They trod the ooze in wooden shoes,
And waded til they were contented.

-- Hawkins, Freak's Clean Poems, 1964

In days of old when knights were bold
& rubbers were not invented,
They trod the ooze in wooden shoes,
& shloshed til they were contented.

-- Tinasky letter to the Anderson Valley Advertiser, 1987

Hawkins was a huge fan of _The Recognitions_ who, upon encountering
jack green's _newspaper_ no. 12, containing green's Swiftian invective
against the critics who had reviewed Gaddis's novel in 1955, decided that
green and Gaddis were the same person.  He corresponded with green, asking
if he had "taken notice of the velikovskyan catastrophism" in the novel,
and may later have become convinced that Pynchon was just another avatar of
this remarkable man of letters...:-)

In September 1988, Hawkins fatally bludgeoned his wife, then "carried
Kathy's body inside, into the living room, where he mourned over the
corpse for several days until it became infested."  He then set the house
on fire and drove his wife's car over a ninety-foot cliff to his death.

I could add much more, but I'm loath to tred on Foster's copyright for this
engaging piece of detective work.  Highly recommended.

-- 
Alan Westrope <awestrop at komarios.net> <awestrop at nyx.net>

Whish!  A gull.  Gulls.  Far calls.  Coming, far!  End here.