New Year’s Resolution: Write More Letters!

 

Doing my part for USPS! Only one stamp left!
Time to purchase more.

Terrible, tragic news came from Denmark on December 30! The Danish postal service, 400 years old, is now kaput!  A hopeful note is sounded in the article you can read by following the link in the previous sentence, as well as the link within the link: “It seems like a slow-motion mistake; letter-writing is coming back into style, especially among young people sick of technology….” I should hope so! 

 

When I heard on NPR that Danes will no longer be able to mail letters, my heart almost froze, and I vowed then and there to write and send more letters in the coming year. I always have done—maybe not as often recently as in former years, but now I am doubly motivated, because I do not want to lose my beloved United States Postal Service! 

View from bank: Where is the bay?

On the morning of New Year’s Eve, Wednesday, a friend stuck his head in the door of Dog Ears Books to ask what on earth I was doing there, open on such a cold, blustery day. I told him I had to come to town, anyway, to collect my mail, always hopeful that I’ll find a friendly note in my p.o. box. He asked if my hopes had been rewarded, and I told him, yes, there was a holiday card from a friend, and the day before there had been two letters waiting for me. Hurrah!

 

View from inside bookstore

Also on December 30 I had a large family of customers who had decided to follow the Icelandic Christmas Eve tradition of exchanging books and then spending the evening reading them. Although late for Christmas Eve, they didn’t want to wait another year before getting started, so we had a wonderful time together on a cold, dreary winter day when I hadn’t expected to see a soul.

 

Still on the subject of mail and books, here's a reminder that, thanks to the foresight of Benjamin Franklin (and maybe a little self-interest on his part, too, since he was a printer by trade), the USPS offers a special rate for sending books, known generically now as media mail. It’s a wonderfully economical way to share books with family and friends. Please, however, do not include letters in your book package! Letters are first-class mail and need first-class postage, and I would not want to see book rate (the old name will always take precedence in my mind) vanish from mailing alternatives, having enjoyed it all my life. Magazines and newspapers cannot go at the media rate, either, as they contain advertising. Media mail is intended for educational purposes, a way of promoting national literacy.

 

Coincidentally, as one year passes into another, I find myself halfway through an epistolary novel set in 16^th-century Florence, Italy. Although the novel is written in French (and my French is rusty), it is easier to read than many modern French novels, perhaps because of the epistolary structure. My biggest challenge is keeping the many character/writers straight. Italian characters in a mystery novel written in French and set in the 16^th century = a quadruple challenge! Not that I ever figure out whodunit: I read mystery novels more for settings and characters.

 

On the car radio as I drove home one day in the last week of December, I heard part of a program where one person chooses a book to introduce to two other people, and I was immediately drawn by the discussion because the chosen book of the day was Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. It was interesting to hear how a trio of young people new to the book responded to a story I know practically by heart, how they interpreted the characters, and what themes they saw in the story.

Some people think Austen originally intended her second novel, P&P, to be composed entirely of letters, then changed her mind.

Re-reading her sister Jane's letters
strengthens Elizabeth's prejudice against Darcy.

As it is, there are nineteen letters in the book, all of them fairly long (with the exception of Mr. Bennett’s brief, wry response to a letter from a man his daughter Elizabeth had earlier refused to marry), and Mr. Darcy’s letter to Elizabeth is surely the longest, taking up almost the whole of Chapter 35. That letter, revealing as it does the character of the writer and of the other man Elizabeth had previously found more sympathetic, requires Lizzie to question her previous attitudes toward both. Arriving then back at her friend Charlotte’s house from her daily walk, she learns that she has missed a visit from Darcy’s cousin, but the cousin no longer holds any interest for Elizabeth, who can “think only of her letter,” that is, the letter from Mr. Darcy. Her head is filled with his words, and nothing else can hold her attention. Have you ever had that feeling?

 

(One member of my extended family detests epistolary novels. For me, they can be brilliant, or, perhaps more easily, trite and pedestrian, a lazy writer's shortcut, but certainly no one would accuse Austen of laziness. The quality of writing is separate from a story’s structure.)

 

When it comes to letters that arrive in my own post office box, all are welcome, and none is ever boring. Someone was thinking of me! If we lived only a few miles from one another, we could meet for coffee, go for a walk together, sit and “dream by the fire,” or play outdoors in the snow with my dog. When hundreds of miles separate us, each letter is a precious gift of the sender’s time given me. Priceless!

Envelopes not recycled yet

Dear Friends, What Are We Telling Each Other?

Clear day view

Dusty day view

[Those photographs above have nothing to do with my topics today.]

How do you understand fiction? As truth or make-believe?

Jane Austen’s first four works of fiction were all epistolary novels, fiction presented as a series of letters between characters. One of the four was First Impressions, a precursor to Pride and Prejudice, and the later, iconic version of the Bennett girls’ story, while going beyond a collection of imagined letters, still relies on fictional correspondence (40 letters given in whole or quoted from in part) to advance the story at several pivotal junctures. 

 

Recall, for instance, that the character of Mr. Collins is introduced, before he appears in person, by the first letter he writes to Mr. Bennett, a letter Mr. Bennet reads to his family at the breakfast table. Darcy’s explanation of his reasons for separating Bingley from Jane, as well as his own family’s history with Mr. Wickham form the longest letter in the novel. And Jane’s letters to Elizabeth about Lydia also function as would expository dialogue in a stage play, recounting events that neither sister witnessed personally.

 

The Postmistress, by Sarah Blake, is not an epistolary novel. It is neither composed of letters, nor are letters the main subject. The book is, as any novel must be, about life as experienced by the characters on its pages. Written correspondence, though, does play an important part in those life experiences at that time. Reliance on the post is crucial in The Postmistress, as letters were still the most important and common means of communication for people separated by long distances during World War II, the period of the novel. Moreover, as the title indicates (though she is called postmaster in the text, and that is eventually explained), one of the principal characters is Iris James, the government employee in charge of the U.S. mail in the small seacoast village of Franklin, Massachusetts. Iris takes seriously her responsibility to maintain an orderly post office. 

 

…The broad wooden sorting table was cleared for the morning’s mail. If there was a place on earth in which God walked, it was the workroom of any post office in the United States of America. Here was the thick chaos of humanity rendered into order. Here was a box for each and every family in the town. Letters, bills, newspapers, catalogs, packages might be sent forth from anywhere in the world, shipped and steamed across water and land, withstanding winds and time, to journey ever forward toward this single, small, and well-marked destination. Here was no Babel. Here, the tangled lines of people’s lives unknotted, and the separate tones of voices set down upon a page were let to breach the distance. Hand over hand the thoughts were passed. And hers was the hand at the end.

 

-      Sarah Blake, The Postmistress

 

What lines to thrill the hearts of those who still write and send handwritten letters! There have been many novels in which a postmaster (or postmistress) appears, but has there been one before Sarah Blake’s novel to make that character and her work so essential to the story?

Excellent service here in Willcox, Arizona!

There are other characters, of course. There is the doctor’s young pregnant wife, who comes daily to the post office at 4 p.m. looking for that day’s letter from her husband, and there is the doctor himself, who after losing a patient has left his wife behind in Franklin to offer his services in London during the Blitz. There is the postmistress’s lover. And of course there is Frankie Bard, reporter, who, when she sees the doctor she has just met killed in a London street, rescues from the street the last letter he wrote to his wife. Soon after that, Frankie lands a long-desired assignment and is sent to travel Europe by train to “get the story” on refugees from Hitler’s Germany. After seeing one of the refugees, a young Jewish man whose voice she had recorded less than an hour before, shot to death before her eyes, however, she begins to think that recording voices is more important than any story she can shape.

 

“Maybe people talking, just being there, alive for the minutes you can hear them, is the only way to tell something true about what’s happening over here. Maybe that’s the story,” she finished, “because there’s no way to put a frame around this one, no plot.”

 

I began writing this post before finishing the novel, having read by then about two-thirds of it and, pausing to write about what I had read so far, I was struck by the difference between the living voices preserved on tape and the thoughts of the letter-writers preserved on paper and how and why the author foregrounds both in her story. Did she find the recordings of voices truer than the letters? It seems to me that the letters – No! Yes! We have Iris’s thoughts on this in my first quoted passage above! The letters do not contain stories shaped by someone else for an international radio broadcast: no, each letter contains a single voice, one person speaking to another, “voices set down upon a page … to breach the distance.” In that, the recordings (individuals telling their stories to Frankie, face to face) and the letters are alike. But in both cases the voices and thoughts shared are preserved, so that the one-on-one intimacy can be experienced by later listeners and readers.

 

Next morning.

 

My mother always used to call them “the wee hours,” those dark hours between midnight and first light. That’s when I woke and finished reading The Postmistress, and this morning I have a few vague thoughts on truth and story-shaping -- because of course the author has shaped a story, bringing together characters that coincidence would have been challenged to unite in real life – but I want to change direction here and leave the novel and World War II to bring attention to the United States Postal Service today. 

 

Have you been following the story on proposals for banking through our nation’s post offices? Here it is. If you are not old enough to remember the Sixties, postal banking may be a new idea to you, but it is not a new idea for the USPS, and it flourished until Lyndon Johnson abolished it in 1966 to "streamline" the USPS. (How much influence did the banking industry have on this presidential decision? One cannot help but wonder.) Now, with branch banks closing across the country and only online banking available to many Americans – and only to those who have easy, daily, affordable access to the Internet – the old idea is being revived. Bankers are against it, but bankers shouldn’t decide everything in American lives. Here is some of the history of postal banking. Read about it, please, and think about it. 

In Willcox again

If you have read my blog much in the past, you may know that I have always been a big supporter of the United States Postal Service. (If interested, see more here.) For me, it is not a nice option but an absolute necessity of life, personal and civic. We have one of the safest and most efficient and economical government postal services in the world. Not only are bankers against it, but the whole “government-is-bad” crowd would rather see privatization of everything. How about you? Would you trust a payday lender over your local post office? 

 

Thanks for reading today! – And now go write and mail a letter!!!