Wise Words (II): Write Legibly

«Sec. 3. How to go on with a Letter

[...]

Here is a golden Rule to begin with. Write legibly.»

Lewis Carrol, Eight or Nine Wise Words about Letter-Writing

Wise Words (I): That Way Madness Lies

«Sec. 2. How to begin a Letter.

If the Letter is to be in answer to another, begin by getting out that other letter and reading it through, in order to refresh your memory [...]

Next, Address and Stamp the Envelope. "What! Before writing the Letter?" Most certainly. And I'll tell you what will happen if you don't. You will go on writing till the last moment, and just in the middle of the last sentence, you will become aware that 'time's up!' Then comes the hurried wind-up — the wildly-scrawled signature — the hastily-fastened envelope, which comes open in the post — the address, a mere hieroglyphic — the horrible discovery that you've forgotten to replenish your Stamp-Case — the frantic appeal, to every one in the house, to lend you a Stamp — the headlong rush to the Post Office, arriving, hot and gasping, just after the box has closed — and finally, a week afterwards, the return of the Letter, from the Dead-Letter Office, marked "address illegible"!

Next, put the date in full. It is another aggravating thing, when you wish, years afterwards, to arrange a series of letters, to find them dated "Feb. 17", "Aug. 2", without any year to guide you as to which comes first. And never, never, dear Madam (N.B. this remark is addressed to ladies only: no man would ever do such a thing), put "Wednesday", simply, as the date!

"That way madness lies."»


Lewis Carrol, Eight or Nine Wise Words about Letter-Writing

Only to Have them Returned

«Així la Penèlope escrivia cartes a l'Ulisses i les enviava a adresses desconegudes només perquè les hi tornessin i sentir totes les mans que l'havien estat buscant.»

Joan Barril, "Fer i desfer" (201 Contes corrents)

[Update 10 July 2025: I just realised I have already written the same post ten years ago...]

The Public Must Be Served Well

«"The post-office is a wonderful establishment!" said she.-- "The regularity and despatch of it! If one thinks of all that it has to do, and all that it does so well, it is really astonishing!"

"It is certainly very well regulated."

"So seldom that any negligence or blunder appears! So seldom that a letter, among the thousands that are constantly passing about the kingdom, is even carried wrong--and not one in a million, I suppose, actually lost! And when one considers the variety of hands, and of bad hands too, that are to be deciphered, it increases the wonder."

"The clerks grow expert from habit.--They must begin with some quickness of sight and hand, and exercise improves them. If you want any farther explanation," continued he, smiling, "they are paid for it. That is the key to a great deal of capacity. The public pays and must be served well."»

Jane Austen, Emma, II, 16

No Matter of Indiference

«"Letters are no matter of indifference; they are generally a very positive course."

"You are speaking of letters of business; mine are letters of friendship."»

Jane Austen, Emma, II, 16

Letter to the Future City Librarian

«One very hot Saturday afternoon in April 1940, sitting alone in her office, Althea Warren* typed a letter addressed to "The City Librarian of Los Angeles on December 7, 1972" that she wanted opened by the future city librarian on what would be the hundredth anniversary of the library. She thought it would be interesting to leave a message, like a time capsule, for her sucessor. "You may be amused to know my troubles an hopes in your office thirty-two years ago," she began. "Thirty-two-year-old troubles are almost sure to be amusing." Warren mentioned that if by chance she were still alive when the letter was opened, she would be eighty-five years old, which at that time must have seemed nearly immortal. She wrote about how difficult it had been for her to inherit the library from the venerable Everett Perry, and how she felt like a "soft and shaking poplar tree" compared to Perry's "hard, primeval oak." She wrote about the contrast between the 1920s, when the library budget was lavish, and the cold shock of the stock market crash, when she was forced to cut salaries of library workers three times and could barely afford to order new books. The letter is by turns jolly and aching, full of the sober realization that because of her constrained budget, she was doomed to disappoint both her staff and the public. The public got less from the library that they wanted, and her staff was more aggrieved that she wished. She rued that she spent so much of her time on small matters—deciding whether to buy a new thermostat for the furnace in the San Pedro branch, finding money in the budget to buy paper towels for the washrooms—when what she hopes was to create a utopia of libraries across the city, staffed by librarians who were satisfied and proud.

  The letter was also optimistic. It was clear that Warren believed the library would endure. She signed off, "My heart is with your work and you!" The letter sat in the office of the city librarian until its designated date, when it was opened and read by Wyman Jones.»

Susan Orlean, The Library Book

*City librarian of the Los Angeles (California) Public Library from 1933 to 1947

Where to Begin

«Yale tended to wait a few days before opening a letter. He'd sit, finally, on Saturday morning with coffee, consider the thickness of the envelope, and finally slide a finger under the flap. He'd never written back. Not out of spite of stubbornness so much as the fact that he couldn't imagine where to begin.»

Rebecca Makkai, The Great Believers

Nunca recebi uma carta

«Tu disseste: Nunca recebi uma carta. Eu disse: Eu também não. E tu: Gostava de receber uma carta. Eu perguntei: Para quê? Tu disseste: Para ler. Uma carta assim à moda antiga. Com un selo. Eu disse: Esquece.

Entre mim e ti, uma coisa qualquer, un esquecimento. Tu disseste: Então escrevo eu primeiro? Eu disse: Está bem. Tu perguntaste: Qual é a tua morada? Eu disse: Não sei.

Como assim, não sabes?

Não sei, a sério.

Tu disseste: Então escreves tu primeiro. Eu não disse nada. Tu disseste: Se escreveres, eu depois respondo-te com uma carta enorme. Uma resma de papel.

Quero ver isso.

Vais ver.

E ficámos a discutir o que escreverias nessa carta. Tu, numa voz afetada e sofrida: Minha querida Mary John, tanto agora como então, és a dona do meu coração.

Sempre tiveste um talento natural para a estupidez, Júlio Bandalho, e eu sou ainda mais naturalmente estúpida, porque não para de pensar nessa frase a rimar.»

Ana Pessoa, Mary John

Letter Writing As Activism

Since writing is the only thing I can do very well, I wondered recently if there was a way of doing some good in the world by using this skill, other than authoring books or becoming a journalist. I was thinking of the impactful letters I’ve read, sent by everyone from Vincent van Gogh to Rabindranath Tagore and wondered if in our digital world, a handwritten letter would stand out more and, therefore, have more of an effect. I know we can’t always calculate what impact our actions would have, but that didn’t prevent me from looking up whether letter writing has ever made a difference, a question I didn’t really need to ask, because of course it has.

Letter Writing as Activism - A Reading List

Our True Intent Is All For Your Delight

Enys Dodnan Isle, and Armed Knight, Land's End, Cornwall
Photo: E. Ludwig, John Hinde Studios

«For Parr [Our True Intent Is All For Your Delight, by Martin Parr], Hinde's images of Butlin's offer 'everything a good photo should. They are entertaining, acutely observed, and have great social historial value.' Parr also observes that 'the most remarkable thing of all is that the cards were painstakingly produced not for any aspirational ideas or as a great art, but as humble postcards to sell for a few pence to holidaymakers'. Commercially motivated and ephemeral in nature, the postcard does not look to the future. It aims only to please you here and nou -its true intent is all for your delight.»

James Ward, Adventures in Stationery

Penny Penates

«The first postcard ever sent, addressed to Theodore Hook Esq, of Fulham, London in 1840, was sent by Theodore Hook Esq of Fulham, London. The hand-drawn picture on the card caricatures the postal service and it is thought that Hook sent it to himself as a joke (there was no internet in those days, people had to make their own fun). Hook's card is also the only postcard known to exist which has sent using the extremely rare Penny Black stamp. The postcard was sold at auction in 2002 for a record-breaking £31,750 to postcard collector Eugene Gomberg.»

James Ward, Adventures in Stationery

(Read more about it in Wikipedia. Pictures also taken from Wikipedia website.)

Never Give Up

From time to time, someone uses the Contact form on this blog to leave a message (Feel free to do so!). On 6 June, Christl wrote:

«On the 11th of May I put 35 Postcards for Austria in the letterbox just opposite the cathedral. Until today none of my cards has arrived.»

I don't know how to reply to that. Thirty-five postcards mean a lot of effort (not to mention the money spent on the stamps). And twenty-five days might seem a lot for postcard travelling within the country. However, from my experience, it is not enough to be desperate. The postcards can still reach its recipients. Actually, they can always arrive, even after a year (for instance).

Maybe, while I am writing this, some of them have landed in the due mail boxes. If that happens... I'd like to know!

More Fun to Send Than to Receive?

«I think postcards are probably more fun to send than to receive.»

James Ward, Adventures in Stationery

From Myself to Myself

«As a child, I'd often send myself a postcard when I went on family holidays, It was an act of delayed masochism - I knew I wouldn't receive the card until I got back home and my holiday was over. The postcard was like a time capsule, sent from myself to myself, but the version of myself who sent the postcard was irritatingly smug. 'I'm sitting by the pool,' I'd write. 'I might go for another swim once I finish writing this. Anything good on TV in England? How's the weather?' Back at home, reading this message, I'd reconcile the sense of jealousy I felt towards the version of myself who was still on holiday with the fact that I knew things he didn't. I knew, for instance, that he'd leave his sunglasses behind in his hotel room and that his flight would be delayed on the way home.»

James Ward, Adventures in Stationery

How Many Sheets Does Your Letter Has?

Two Pence unused Mulready letter sheet, blue, form a96

«Until the reformation of the postal service in 1840, envelopes were not commonly used at all when sending letters through the post. Postage prices were based on the number of sheets each letter contained, and an envelope was considered a sheet and so would therefore be charged accordingly. To avoi this extra cost, letter sheets were used; these were single sheets of paper that could be folded and sealed without the need for an envelope. In 1837, the social reformer Rowland Hill published a pamphlet outlining his proposed changes to the postal service (Post Office Reform: Its Importance and Practicability). Hill suggested a simplification of the whole system, with dramatically reduced prices based on weight rather that the number of sheets used per letter. Most importantly of all, Hill proposed a unifrom charge regardless of where in the country the letter was to be delivered, and with payment in advance (previously the costs would often be paid by the recipient of the letter). In 1840, Hill's proposals were accepted and two different methods of pre-payment were introduced -adhesive postage stamps, and pre-stamped letter sheets and envelopes.

    The artist William Mulready was commissioned to design the artwork for these letter sheets and envelopes. Hill had expected these to be more popular than postage stamps, but within days the overly elaborate designs with their images of Britannia with a lion at her feet, began to be caricatured and mocked. Hill wrote in his journal of his fear that there may be the need to 'substitute some other stamp for that design by Mulready' as 'the public has shown their disregard and even distaste for beauty'. The Mulready designs were quickly withdrawn and replaced by embossed envelopes. The envelopes featured the image of Queen Victoria based on a design by William Wyon. The Wyon penny envelope was an immediate success, but still could not compete with the convenience and flexibility of the postage stamp.»

James Ward, Adventures in Stationery

The Opportunity Gone Forever

«A spore takes flight by wind, and the whole system survives. The assassin blinks, and the bullet merely grazes the head of state. The planet's axis shifts imperceptibly, and Earth is ruled by some other species. It's not even called Earth; there is no language at all. The letter is lost in the mail, the opportunity gone forever.

     All my classes in college essentially taught the same lesson: another world was once possible.»

Hua Hsu, Stay True: A Memoir

Twelve Times a Day

«By the early 1900s, the post was being delivered in parts of London twelve times a day.»

Deirdre Mask, The Address Book

They Can Rescue You

«Beautiful letters and gifts through the post won’t take away all the distress in the world but they can certainly rescue you from it for a time.»

@letterappsoc

How Old-fashioned It All Was

«Es va preguntar quan havia estat l'últim cop que havia escrit una carta, va ser conscient de com n'era, d'antiquat, tot plegat; bolígraf, paper, sobre, segell, bústia.»

Gerbrand Bakker, Deu oques blanques

The Last Century

«Elle m'a encore écrit. Elle écrit toujours, comme si nous étions au siècle dernier.»

Marie Vingtras, Blizzard