Book of Letters

 

Writing letters is a bit lost in today's modern society of instant communication. When is the last time you wrote a letter and mailed it to someone? Was the letter more than the length of a card interior? I admit I do not write many letters anymore, but writing one slows me down to think in the best ways as my hand forms words that will be zoomed through the space of physical distances.

I recently finished reading this first volume of Dorothy L. Sayers' letters from 1899 - 1936. I always feel a bit awkward reading letters of a favourite author, because it is likely they did not think anyone except the recipient would ever read the letter, but here I am in 2021 reading private letters written by a wonderful writer and thinker.

Reading these letters was like listening to her thoughts and feelings, and I was particularly keen on learning her thought process behind developing her Lord Peter mystery books. For example, there were several letters back and forth with a doctor friend who helped her brainstorm insights and conduct experiments with poison (specifically related to the death cap mushroom scenario she was toying with for the next mystery book she was writing), and it was fascinating to learn how she developed the plot from an idea of a murder and how the murderer would do it. She then created a story around that main inkling, fleshing out every detail and what made sense. My writer-self was taking notes.

Anyway, the letters. Sayers is a very entertaining letter writer (I rank her up there with C.S. Lewis as my favourite letters to read) and not just humorous but also very insightful and full of wisdom. Often some deeply thoughtful writing went into these letters (developed explanations), as well as some difficult family issues such as her covering up having a baby whilst unwed, and seeing that unfold in the letters (her conscious choice to keep that secret, even from her son). An interesting study of the human condition and expectations.

I found it funny that in a large majority of letters she wrote to family, she would begin the letter saying that nothing was going on and she almost no news to share, except.....and then she would go on with something interesting. It is funny because I feel that a lot, like I have nothing to share, or sometimes nothing to write, and yet if I just sit down and begin it reveals itself through words.

I could say that we do not have time to write well-thought letters in our lives today, and yet I find that I write letters everyday at work and personally (painstakingly well-thought I should hope) except in email form. Of course, it's not the same. The flourish of handwriting and the crinkle of paper can never be replaced with electronic devices, but I actually do spend a lot of time writing letters. But I would say that my letters are definitely not worth publishing.