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Foreword
Martha Gellhorn was my stepmother. She married my father after she divorced Ernest Hemingway. Martha used to tell me that her inspiration for writing a letter was a heartfelt complaint. That was her dynamo. And when she started to write it, she wrote it to someone, person to person. That way she could focus her complaint in a more direct way that didn't have a scattergun effect and dissipate the emotion in her letters.
She always claimed not to be an intellectual. But there was a contradiction in her here because she loved ideas. She was also very much against what she called 'navel inspection' and yet her heartfelt letters, often included an analysis of a relationship or the person she was writing to.
Martha and I started off on the left foot. I had been airlifted from my very comfortable, seemingly successful life in Princeton, living with an aunt, into an exciting, grey, post-war London, where I didn't seem to fit very well. But then we had a geneticist who came to visit us at our school in Devon and he said that we will go to a party in maybe thirty-five years and not know who is man-made and who isn't. The thought horrified me and I wrote to Martha about it. Instead of saying "get on with your studies," she wrote right back and said "yes, isn't it terrible?" I replied that, as far as I could see, we were living like one-eyed cyclopes and Hollywood was the opiate of the masses. And, in the meantime, the wool was being pulled over our eyes by a few scientists, who were taking the responsibility for the future, and how dare they, and how could they, and so on and so forth. And Martha wrote right back fulsomely and with growing concern.
We then cemented our friendship on anti-nuclear campaigning, she with her magnificent book, The Face of War (cf. the 1986 introduction), which, in my view, is the best thing she ever wrote. I went on anti-nuclear marches, which she supported avidly. This is how we became pen pals and created our friendship through letters.
Her letters delve deeper into her, I think, in some ways better than her presence. She nearly always had a party face and made the best of whatever company she was in and that served to hide away the true Martha. Only in her letters did her feelings emerge ... and with gusto. She opened her heart to you and it was a great compliment and privilege and treat to be in on such a display. It presaged affection and trust and they were an education. I probably got more out of Martha's letters than I did out of my schooling.
Janet Somerville has painstakingly put together a rich collection of Martha's letters for you, the reader, to enjoy. And then there are the replies from her friends. People who helped to shape the 1930s and 1940s. What you are getting in this book is a very articulate account of those fascinating times. Not just the history but the feelings, thoughts and aspirations of those who shaped the history of the time. Janet Somerville has done a wonderful job. I invite you to enjoy the fruits of her labor of love.
Sandy Matthews
Devon, England