Twain & Stanley Enter Paradise

AFTERWORD by Lori Marie Carlson-Hijuelos

AS I WRITE THIS NOTE, I am surrounded by my husband’s beloved books, lead soldier collection, ancient artifacts, paintings, guitars, and mementos from our sojourns around the world. Oscar Hijuelos, the man and writer, was a human being of robust convictions and interests. He loved beauty in all its manifestations: the starlings in late autumn as they danced in the Roman sky; the brilliance of a Bach fugue played by Glenn Gould; a portrait by Velázquez; the Himalayas; sunsets on Long Island Sound; a child’s knowing eyes. He lived for the purity of art and its transformative power on the soul. And it was this love of art that allowed him to meander inward to the depths of his being and intuition to create so generously for others. He was also an outward traveler who sought adventure in Egypt, Nepal, and Bhutan, to name just a few destinations far away from his home.

Twain & Stanley Enter Paradise is a creation many years in the making — actually, more than twelve. The reading and gathering of documents that Oscar employed to discover truths and little-known details about the lengthy friendship of Twain and Stanley is, in fact, staggering in scope. And yet this novel is a fiction, through and through. And all of the writing is Oscar’s; which is to say that — in addition to the narrative — the letters, diary entries, and speeches in these pages are imagined and created by Hijuelos. It is a novel that had an unusual and mysterious journey from inception to completion and, finally, publication. It was written in two locales: New York City and Branford, Connecticut. And it was informed by several field trips. These trips I arranged in a way that allowed Oscar to better understand the backdrop to his story. New Orleans became a favorite spot. Oscar absolutely loved the city, with all its social curlicues, manners, secrets, and magic. He was charmed by every inch of the French Quarter and the river views along the promenade. He felt Twain’s and Stanley’s footprints everywhere.

We visited Mark Twain’s home in Hartford, Connecticut, a particularly rich experience for both of us. Oscar delighted in the ephemera of Twain’s home life and the fascinating details of the furnishings (the handcrafted matrimonial bed from Italy was notable), objets d’art, and the elegance of the grand estate. We went on European jaunts to better understand the life of Stanley — one to Wales and England and another to Belgium. We walked through Welsh forests, gardens, and beachfronts to get a sense of Stanley’s boyhood. We studied the facade of Stanley’s Richmond Terrace home in London, to the bemusement of some wary guards (the house is now occupied by the Ministry of Defence). While in Belgium we visited Ostend, a resort city, as well as a museum in Brussels that displays African artifacts, a reminder of Stanley’s exploits under the patronage of King Léopold II.

My husband was working on the novel’s pages up until the day before he died.

It feels somewhat presumptuous to tell you what I believe Oscar “was saying” as an artist in the making of this fiction. Only the author of a work can explain or even attempt to explain the inner workings of his creation with authority. No critic, no scholar, no friend or family member has the knowledge to do this. But I can offer a few insights as to why Oscar chose Mark Twain, Henry Morton Stanley, and Dorothy Tennant as the subjects of his tale — a tale about the vagaries of destiny that I believe was also an investigation into Oscar’s two sides: the quiet contemplative and the gregarious wanderer.

Oscar truly admired the work of Mark Twain, especially his Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. And this fact is not surprising, given that Twain was one of the greats. But Oscar’s fascination with the life, work, and spirit of Stanley is, perhaps, more of a curiosity. It began in his late teens, when Oscar read an extensive biography about the intrepid British explorer. Over the years, rather than diminish, his interest in Stanley grew, and he read voraciously about him. In fact, Oscar read every book he discovered about the Victorian giant. Along the way, my husband found a reference to Stanley’s friendship with Mark Twain. And there was something else that struck a chord of intrigue: a reference to the fact that Stanley had, at one time, gone to Cuba in search of his adoptive father, who had disappeared. Whether this escapade was historically accurate did not matter as much to Oscar as the idea that it could have been true. He began researching and writing the novel shortly thereafter.

Soon enough, Oscar encountered the beguiling figure of Dorothy Tennant, an accomplished portraitist who would eventually marry Stanley. Dolly, as she was known, was a mesmerizing vixen. And she was just the kind of female character who could get under Oscar’s skin: strong-willed, artistic, elegant, flirtatious. This was the woman who stole Stanley’s heart. Oscar had found an interesting triangle of seductive personalities, passions, and friendships.

As Oscar wrote the thousands of pages that he attempted to winnow down to publishable size, even as he continued to expand upon the story, we experienced several challenging and painful events in our lives. Oscar became more philosophical and spiritual, although he had always been an introspective, keenly sensitive man. His loving nature deepened in ways that were clearly obvious to those closest to him. The more difficulties we endured, the more generous he became to those around him, intimates and strangers alike. He was always giving of his time, advice, and material means. The hurts, injustices, and inexplicable tragedies that befell friends, family, and acquaintances affected him deeply. Often, he would begin our mornings, over coffee, with commentary about the cruelty in the world, which he could never understand.

He started to see his protagonists as he would his inner circle. He cared about them and experienced their joys and vicissitudes. He delighted in the fact that Stanley was able to become a father when he and Dolly adopted a boy from Wales; he suffered the tragedies Mark Twain endured, particularly the deaths of his infant son, two young daughters, and his wife.

Oscar often wondered aloud: What are the elements that conspire to grant one human being privilege and another so much despair and agony? What is fame? Success? Throughout his life, my husband conscientiously wrestled with the difficulty of being human, and in his writing he sought to offer musings on the following subjects: the redemptive essence of love and artistic creation; death and its aftermath; man’s inhumanity toward man; moral fortitude; the consolation of family.

For some fans, this last novel of my husband’s might seem like an anomaly within his overall work. Many readers have come to associate an Hijuelos title with lively New York City neighborhoods, cubanía, amorous passion, a love of music, and the immigrant experience. While these attributes and many more characterize his oeuvre, Oscar was, first and foremost, an American intellectual. His interests ranged from archaeology to physics, from medicine to boxing, and Disney animation. He was a passionate reader of history and religious discourse. He was curious about all aspects of the world and human endeavor.

ON OCTOBER 12, 2013, Oscar died of a massive heart attack while playing tennis in New York City’s Riverside Park. That day my world came to a stop, as it did for all who loved him. He was not only a remarkably gifted man and a supremely talented novelist but the most soulful person I have ever known. And the sweetest. We were a double helix; my life is only “a half” now. And the world, as noted by journalists and writers around the globe, is a poorer place without his physical presence.

In the months following Oscar’s death, I was in too much pain to think about the rituals of daily life or professional obligations, but gradually I summoned the resolve to seek a publisher for Twain & Stanley Enter Paradise with the help of my agent, Jennifer Lyons. (The one and only extant copy of the manuscript was found on top of several boxes of related material in my husband’s study.) It has been edited with loving attention and acumen by Gretchen Young. To the entire team at Grand Central Publishing, I say, “Thank you from my heart for the care, intelligence, and passion you have put into its publication.” Oscar would be so very grateful to you.

— July 2014