I was thinking recently about the lost tradition of letter writing. Maybe I'm just a closet romantic picturing various types of correspondences through history. Some between platonic loves, some between lovers separated by war or other calamity, or simply lovers adhering to the strictures of their times. See extended.
It seems kind of romantic when you think about it - taking the time to hand write a letter to someone, to share your thoughts and feelings (or everyday minutiae). And oddly intimate to read it - the anticipation of waiting for the next letter, the possibility of squirrelling it away to be read in private, the feel of the paper in your hand, the scent of the paper (or the perfume sprayed on it). While much of the fun of letter writing is still captured in email, it also loses something in the process. I'm still a sucker for the physical feelings of paper - the sound, smell, touch of it. I suppose that's part of why I'll always prefer reading a real book over its online cousin.
But at the same time there is a continuity that happens with email or internet correspondence - you can scroll back and forth to find previous conversations or refer back to the last email pretty immediately, you can search for and find a specific word or phrase. You can also pull in references to other conversations or ideas readily (i.e. the whole idea of a blog), as well as solicit commentary (although that can be fraught with trolls and spam). There's still the ability to horde and treasure and revisit email, you just can't carry it around with you in the same manner. Ok, you can print it out and carry it around, but it's not the same as a piece of paper with the actual pen impressions from your correspondent's hand, is it?
Maybe some of the allure is the idea that it's a shared world between just the two of you? It's a direct personal exchange of ideas where sometimes the lack of immediacy that you'd have in a face to face exchange builds a certain anticipation that you might not otherwise have. Isn't it pleasureable to speculate when you might receive your next correspondence, is your correspondent thinking of you enough to answer your last missive, are you on the same wavelength regarding the appropriate amount of time between communications, it a letter waiting for me? In a world of immediate gratification isn't it fun to have to wait for something out of your control?
Is some of the allure of the internet romance the same sense of discovery that you have in an unfolding correspondence? I think as a correspondence unfolds you start revealing more and more of yourself - wittingly or unwittingly. Your opinions, ideas, prejudices, humor start showing through in what you say, what you omit, what you choose to respond to, how you deal with assent or dissent. It's a slow unraveling of what makes another person tick, a peeling away of layers while at the same time building up a store of information.
Maybe some of the charm of a correspondence too is the ability to choose your words more carefully than you can in a regular conversation. You can put forward your funniest quips, or remove the boring bits, or edit in or out anything that puts you in your best light. You have time to reconsider that rash statement or declaration, time to find the best way to say something difficult, time to use the sweetest words you can find to express your feelings. Choosing what to reveal can be both exciting and agonizing - what if it's too much, if I've gone too far out on that limb, what if it's not enough for them to really understand me, what if it's taken poorly, what if it's misinterpreted, what if it's correctly interpreted but not reciprocated.
All in all I think correspondence/letter writing/mail is a lost art, and we are all the poorer for not knowing the charms and pitfalls associated with it.
Posted by cshell at August 6, 2004 10:14 PM