Elizabeth Hardwick, Critic, Novelist and Restless Woman of Letters, Dies at 91
It is extremely disrespectful, to say the least, to refer to Elizabeth Hardwick as a dizzy lizzy, but at least one year or more of Barnard students did call her that. I only ever called her Professor Hardwick, though she was not a full professor. She was an incredible teacher. Sometimes, she was in a tizzy. I can remember a classmate saying she had been drunk in class one day. However, I just thought she was angry, and disappointed in us. I have been called Dizzy Lizzy, but never by a friend, or as an homage to the Beatles.
I didn't know anything about her, really, except she was supposed to be good, if crazy. I guess I never really hung out with many English majors, or indulged in faculty gossip sessions. I mean, they were old people. I took two semesters of creative writing with Elizabeth Hardwick. Her assignments could be vague, and her assessments merciless. I wonder what happened to the young woman in the fall semester class. She wanted to be a journalist, and did not handle criticism well. Nor can I say it was always constructive criticism from Hardwick. Some people cried, including Hardwick. Now, I read the dates, and wonder how hard our classes were for her, in 1978. By that time, I knew who Robert Lowell was, knew when he died. But I did not know her connection to him. Senior year, I read The Armies of the Night, and did not care for it. (Strangely, I can't find a published version of the book in English on OCLC, so I gave in and linked to the Internet "resource", which doesn't seem like much of a resource to me. I must be doing something wrong, but it doesn't matter.)
In any case, I needed to note her passing. I was not a student she took under her wing or mentored. But she was essentially friendly to me, and that was pretty important to me. I am very happy to have the memory of her telling us of her love of the jazz clubs on 57th St. in the 1940s. She and her roommate went almost every night, and saw Billie Holiday every time they could. Hardwick talked about Holiday like she was a religious figure. At that time, I was going down to the punk clubs and bars in the village every chance I could, to see Patti Smith and the Ramones. I completely understood thinking music and musicians were more important than groceries. Writing and poetry, too.
Though I am not as quick or bright as Hardwick (believe me, she was sharp!), I think she did teach me a lot about writing. I am lazy, and take easy ways out. But Hardwick did teach me to edit and hone, even if it doesn't show much in this venue. She didn't completely discourage me, though she was very sad sometimes. I still seek some outlet for creativity, and she gave me some slight affirmation. Of course, my most recent outlets for creativity have been 1) learning to crochet and 2) setting three-quarters of our reference collection free, to circulate, multi-volume sets, local history, et al. Both things have been quite fulfilling.
