My Reminiscences

Rabindranath Tagore, sometimes referred to as the Bard of Bengal, was a poet, composer, and artist active in the latter half of the 19th century and the first half of the 20th century. His poetry had a profound impact on Bengali literature—so much so that in 1913 he became the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize in Literature. Today Tagore is recognized for transforming Bengali art, moving it away from its classical forms by embracing the Bengal Renaissance. Though his artistic output spanned many disciplines, his most famous is perhaps Gitanjali, his collection of poems that he himself later translated to English. His impact on Indian and Bengali letters can be exemplified by the fact that two of his compositions were chosen as national anthems—“Jana Gana Mana” for India, and “Amar Shonar Bangla” for Bangladesh—and that the Sri Lankan national anthem was inspired by his work. In these autobiographical sketches Tagore gives us windows into his childhood, his youth, and his blossoming as a writer and as a lyricist. He stresses that this is not an autobiography, but more like a palimpsest of memories: glimmers and shadows that illustrate his artistic development, not a strict record of his life.

Rabindranath Tagore was a regular contributor to Sabuj Patra. Many of his early 20th century works including the Balaka poems, two of his novels, Ghare Baire and Chaturanga, a play titled Phalguni and a considerable lot of short stories and essays were published in this journal. In Sabuj Patra, Tagore expressed his revolutionary view on society and political situations of contemporary times through his fiction and prose. Haimanti and Streer Patra caused a frown of contemporary Bengali society as well as his essays Bastab and Lokohito were severely attacked in conservative journals like Sahitya and Narayan. These Reminiscences were written and published by the Author in his fiftieth year, shortly before he started on a trip to Europe and America for his failing health in 1912. It was in the course of this trip that he wrote for the first time in the English language for publication. In these memory pictures, so lightly, even casually presented by the author there is, nevertheless, revealed a connected history of his inner life together with that of the varying literary forms in which his growing self found successive expression, up to the point at which both his soul and poetry attained maturity. This lightness of manner and importance of matter form a combination the translation of which into a different language is naturally a matter of considerable difficulty. It was, in any case, a task which the present Translator, not being an original writer in the English language, would hardly have ventured to undertake, had there not been other considerations. The translators familiarity, however, with the persons, vi scenes, and events herein depicted made it a temptation difficult for him to resist, as well as a responsibility which he did not care to leave to others not possessing these advantages, and therefore more liable to miss a point, or give a wrong impression. The Translator, moreover, had the authors permission and advice to make a free translation, a portion of which was completed and approved by the latter before he left India on his recent tour to Japan and America. In regard to the nature of the freedom taken for the purposes of the translation, it may be mentioned that those suggestions which might not have been as clear to the foreign as to the Bengali reader have been brought out in a slightly more elaborate manner than in the original text; while again, in rare cases, others which depend on allusions entirely unfamiliar to the non-Indian reader, have been omitted rather than spoil by an over-elaboration the simplicity and naturalness which is the great feature of the original. There are no footnotes in the original. All the footnotes here given have been added by the Translator in the hope that they may be of further assistance to the foreign reader

Jennifer Grant is the only child of Cary Grant, who was, and continues to be, the epitome of all that is elegant, sophisticated, and deft. Almost half a century after Cary Grant’s retirement from the screen, he remains the quintessential romantic comic movie star. He stopped making movies when his daughter was born so that he could be with her and raise her, which is just what he did. Good Stuff is an enchanting portrait of the profound and loving relationship between a daughter and her father, who just happens to be one of America’s most iconic male movie stars. Cary Grant’s own personal childhood archives were burned in World War I, and he took painstaking care to ensure that his daughter would have an accurate record of her early life. In Good Stuff, Jennifer Grant writes of their life together through her high school and college years until Grant’s death at the age of eighty-two. Cary Grant had a happy way of living, and he gave that to his daughter. He invented the phrase “good stuff” to mean happiness. For the last twenty years of his life, his daughter experienced the full vital passion of her father’s heart, and she now—delightfully—gives us a taste of it. She writes of the lessons he taught her; of the love he showed her; of his childhood as well as her own . . . Here are letters, notes, and funny cards written from father to daughter and those written from her to him . . . as well as bits of conversation between them (Cary Grant kept a tape recorder going for most of their time together). She writes of their life at 9966 Beverly Grove Drive, living in a farmhouse in the midst of Beverly Hills, playing, laughing, dining, and dancing through the thick and thin of Jennifer's growing up; the years of his work, his travels, his friendships with “old Hollywood royalty” (the Sinatras, the Pecks, the Poitiers, et al.) and with just plain-old royalty (the Rainiers) . . . We see Grant the playful dad; Grant the clown, sharing his gifts of laughter through his warm spirit; Grant teaching his daughter about life, about love, about boys, about manners and money, about acting and living. Cary Grant was given the indefinable incandescence of charm. He was a pip . . . Good Stuff captures his special quality. It gives us the magic of a father’s devotion (and goofball-ness) as it reveals a daughter’s special odyssey and education of loving, and being loved, by a dad who was Cary Grant.

London edition (John Lane) with sloght changes in text and the omission of the last chapter, has title: On the trail; my reminiscences as a cowboy.

Reproduction of the original.