In Memoriam: Annette Kolodny

Many years ago, during a routine visit to my faculty mailbox, I found a thank-you note from a man who had died the previous day. An emeritus colleague, he had taken me to lunch on the recent occasion of my arrival at the university. While he was a contentious figure to many, to me he remains a man who paid it forward.

About twenty years later—December 10, 2018, to be exact—Professor Annette Kolodny (1941–2019) wrote a chatty email bringing me up to speed on an essay she was finishing for a German publisher. A world-renowned scholar admired for her formidable intellect and public persona, Annette’s correspondence continually surprised me with its sincere attentiveness to others. This one was no exception. She asked how the new editorship was going, and she mentioned her sense of relative well-being “given all the physical problems I confront every day.” I knew Annette was not in good health, but she had not been well for years. She had pronounced her most recent Society of Early Americanists conference presentation to be her last. Her scrupulous work on a contribution to this journal depended on the presence of an assistant, which meant that materials often arrived with send times in the early hours of the morning. Whatever the unconscionable reason, I paid her comment about her health little mind. I never responded to that email—meant to, and meant to again, until the maw of my inbox let it fall from “this week” to “last” and so on until it hit the floor of “older,” from which few messages ever return. On September 16, 2019, Professor Gordon Sayre, then-president of the Society of Early American-ists, sent an email to the Society of Early Americanists listserv. Professor Kolodny had passed away the previous week. There I stood at the mailbox once again, holding a letter to which I could not reply.

I never met Annette in person. I only communicated with her directly during the last two years of her life, as she crafted an autobiographical essay for a symposium the journal was putting together about her work. During that short time, in messages ostensibly dedicated to drafts and deadlines, we bonded over everything from People’s Park to pet editorial peeves. She and I were, I supposed, the essence of email friends—two individuals who took to one another without the mess of physical proximity. No office printers to line up behind, no small talk as we waited for the elevator: our relationship consisted exclusively of what we typed. Within this narrow realm, I had come to cherish the Annette I knew. I think she too felt the real if virtual warmth of a friendship begun, it turns out, way too late.

There is always an “if only” quality to the death of a friend: an utterly illusory sense that the great unfinished conversation could have been satisfactorily concluded had there only been time for one more sentence. With Annette, that sensation hits particularly hard. When someone with a reputation for relishing combat displays gentleness and compassion, it is hard to reconcile the person one knows with the public figure who took on giants. I feel lucky to have witnessed that side of her.

By the time these words appear in print, Annette Kolodny’s death may well have left the forefront of our collective consciousness. It would behoove us, however, not to forget her courage. Since this reminiscence contains little to satisfy those who wish to learn more about her many accomplishments, let me conclude by providing a few links. There are several powerful commemorations, including this one from the New York Times (https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/20/books/annette-kolodny-dead.html) and this from the Society of Early Americanists (https://www.societyofearlyamericanists.org/membership/in-memoriam/annette-kolodny-1941-2019). Those who wish to hear her recorded voice can tune in to her Early American Literature podcast: https://soundcloud.com/early-american-literature/volume-53-issue-3. To read her own final account of a life well lived, turn to EAL 55, no. 3...