He was a fragile oracle. Of Henry, he wrote: Hunger was constitutional with him, wine, cigarettes, liquor, need need need Until he went to pieces. The pieces sat up & wrote. Hunger ran in the family. Berryman’s mother wrote to him about craving her own mother’s affection: “I, who longed for her love and have love-groped my way through life for the need of it.” Berryman’s own need broke him into pieces, but the pieces got the writing done.
