Hello dear reader, this letter to you is, I’m afraid, going to contain a few letters neither to you nor from me. I think they are all the better for it.
The first example is a letter composed by Kurt Vonnegut in response to a classroom of inspired and well-meaning adolescents. I’d urge you to commit to the metaphor of Vonnegut: an iguana. I don’t know if I could poke fun at my own age at any age, much less where I’m old enough for it to be a problem. It is also one of his last letters, seeing as it was written the year died.
If you are anything like myself, the letter has done nothing to your appetite. Perhaps, given this next letter, your appetite will at least be dented. For me every sentence is like another dollop of snow, slowly erasing the divide between full and empty.
The second example comes to us from a PoW camp.
The third example comes to us from the furnaces of Drake.
The fourth examples come shortly after Vonnegut published his first stories.
The last is only a crumb but interesting.
I urge you, dear reader, to take a look at Letters of Note. They’re missing some truly excellent letters, but nevertheless grab quit a few for their readers.