the last book I ever read (The Beauty of Living: e. e. cummings in the Great War, excerpt fourteen)

from The Beauty of Living: e. e. cummings in the Great War by J. Alison Rosenblitt:

As Elaine kept her distance, Cummings’s life was in a strange place when—realizing that his father could not be fobbed off forever—he finally sat down to write the account of his imprisonment in France. He did so on the strict condition that it would not be used in any lawsuit. He and Brown stayed on in New Hampshire after the rest of the family left Joy Farm that summer of 1920. They moved from the house down to the cabin on the shore of Silver Lake. Here Cummings worked like mad every day, typing ten or twelve hours from the morning until long after Brown had gone to bed. Brown fished, relaxed, and made the most of the lake. Cummings did some of the cooking, including an omelet of his own invention based largely around molasses. “We both ate it though Cummings admitted that it was not a success.” In a few months Cummings had finished his manuscript.