[Richard wrote much of his novel while living in Tom Costner's apartment in Paris. They had met when Mr. Costner approached Carolyn Hester about representing her as an agent. Mr. Costner worked with Richard on several projects, attended his wedding with Mimi, and remained friends with Mimi many years after Richard's death. He once began a biography of Richard, which he eventually handed over to David Hajdu to use for his book. In the Village Voice Mr. Costner wrote a review of the film adapation of Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up To Me and a review of the musical tribute, Richard Fariña: Long Time Coming and a Long Time Gone, as well as the following memoir.]
It was not like Richard Fariña to have copped out at the moment suprème. One suspects he is alive and in Argentina. Or has made a pact with the Great Whomever, to assure his posthumous fame in exchange for a premature death. The James Dean of Lit'rature? With him Success was only a matter of time. Or timing....
Fariña arriving in Paris from London with two dulcimers, an antique shotgun (Portobello Road), and a duffel of clothes.... The author (he was very fussy about the tilde; death to any correspondent who omitted it, or to anybody who failed to pronounce it) on the Quai des Orfevres with The Book.
The title was firmly selected even then (1962): "Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up To Me." Fariña taking out the box containing the pages and looking at them. Checking to see that the manuscript was, at least, getting thicker. Writing everything out mentally, like Cocteau, then transcribing the mind-writing verbatim. Never changing a word after it got typed....
Hunt-and-peck typing of the hip bible on the seventeenth-century table in the seventeenth-century house over the ancient Roman city of Lutetia.... Fariña sweeping across the Pont Neuf, wearing Mimi's navy blue cape, in altogether manly fashion, to puy pulpa at chez Inno. Arriving home with the disgusting pink creature in a polythene bag, the kind sadists use to transport goldfish. Carefully preparing the octopus for a role in some exotic gumbo, flushing the discarded tentacles down the toilet. Giving fear to others that, by some freak of regurgitation, the monster would resurface. And attack....
Fariña the health fiend, certain that cholesterol would be the death of him. No butter. No fried foods. Lots of fish. Trimming microscopic fragments of fat from the lamb before putting it in the stew....
Playing host to Michael and Stephanie Harrington.... Having Joe Heller by for booze and advice.... Writing the scenario for a children's record of "Alice in Wonderland." Himself playing the Mad Hatter and the overdue rabbit. Baez mère playing the Queen with great relish....
Fariña and the Baezes on a day trip to Chartres. Which resulted in the fine poem in Mademoiselle. Later read as part of the wedding ceremony (script by Fariña; handed to the preacher at the last moment) in Palo Alto....
Waiting for the concierge to bring the mail upstairs. Pleasure/pain, pleasure/pain when the elevator whirred at 10:30 and 4:30. Another rejection? Twenty-odd in hand, including one by his eventual publisher....
Fariña writing the liner noes for his London record, never available here: "Mr. Fariña was at one time a blind street singer in the Place de l'Odeon. He has since regained his sight."...
Posing with Mimi for photographs by Emile Cadoo, conscious of camera angles and lighting....
Later, at the California wedding Fariña in a dark suit, standing next to Tom Pynchon, his best man. Sweltering in the August heat. (Pynchon in an auto-hypnotic trance: boredom or a psychedelic experience?) Mimi and Dick cutting the wedding cake: A twenty-pound cheesecake with the traditional white icing and bridal dolls....
Til death us do part.