Sharon Presents Women's Letters edited by Lisa Grunwald and Stephen Adler

Abigail Adams to John Adams

 

“Letters had always defeated distance, but with the coming of e-mail, time seemed to be vanquished as well.”—Thomas Mallon 

“The art of letters will come to an end before A.D. 2000. I shall survive as a curiosity.”—Ezra Pound

Jacquie's Email Hello Literary Ladies! In this confusing world of e-mail, texts, Tik Tok, and other electronic forms of communication, I look forward to continuing to explore our theme of “Letters, Journals, Diaries” and what that means for the future of history, truth, fact, memory, and perception. What sort of record will remain for future generations and what will be lost? With that in mind (or at least on MY mind) I look forward to our being together this Wednesday, November 20th for Sharon's presentation on letters and books of Lisa Grunwald and Stephen Adler, which looks to be a cornucopia of personalities and their perspectives, all with Sharon's careful curation. Perfection!

There has been a change of venue, as Barbara is unable to host, but Christine has graciously offered her home. We will be brown bagging it (with lunch or not lunch?) though Christine did mention that Chucker is a fan of leftover cucumber sandwiches. I will also be bringing my autumn go-to chocolate chip apple cake, so there will be bits and bobs on which to nosh as well as coffee and tea. As usual, we will begin gathering at noon, and Joanna will (hopefully remember to) ring the bell at 1PM to begin our meeting.
Until then, enjoy the sunshine, or lament the lack of rain, or both.
I look forward to being together with you all. x Jacquie

Christine's Minutes Twelve members of the Hastings Literature Club gathered at Christine’s house to be surprised by yet another Literature Club first.

An actual lunch consisting of very green recipe-less soup, cucumber sandwiches and warm tartlets was served, and then topped off with Jacquie’s famous apple cake.

President Joanna rang the bell at 1:03. Members were pleased to hear an update on Barbara’s health: she is recovering. Several books were recommended including: James, by Percival Everett; Where We Are Now, by Lawrence Lessing; Mighty Red, by Louise Erdrich; Jane Austen: A Life, by Carol Shields; I Hope This Finds You Well, by Natalie Sue; and Eastbound, by Maylis de Kerangal.

Joanna read her excellent minutes on last meeting's Clarissa which she graciously kept short so that Sharon had plenty of time for her presentation. It must be said that if Joanna were applying for the job of recording secretary, she would certainly land it.

Our treasury remains the same at $248.06.

Sharon’s program, in this year of “Letters and Journals,” presented letters from a compilation, Women’s Letters—America from the Revolutionary War to the Present, edited by Lisa Grunwald and Stephen Adler. Who, it was announced, are not only married to each other, and delightful people, but also very good friends of Sharon’s. This will signify.

We started off with a little background on these two extraordinary productive writers. Also, journalists, editors and who knows what else. Lisa Grunwald, born in 1959, is the author of seven novels and has a long illustrious history in journalism and publishing. She came by this honestly: her father was the editor of Time magazine, and her mother wrote a column for Women’s Wear Daily. She also has a side hustle called “Procrastination Arts,” and as someone who considers procrastination an undervalued skill, I have to say that it is very cool and worth checking out. Lisa’s most recent novel is The Evolution of Annabel Craig.

Stephen has worked for The Tampa Times, American Lawyer (where he first encountered our own exceptional Sharon), the Wall Street Journal and Reuters. While editor-in-chief at Reuters, he garnered eight Pulitzers. He is currently “retired.”

Lisa and Stephen did NOT meet during their time at Harvard; they had to await the intervention of a blind date in 1987. The world of literature and especially epistolary literature has been grateful ever since.

Their three anthologies of letters are Letters of the Century (the 20th); The Marriage Book; and Women’s Letters.

To get things started, Sharon showed us a clip of Lisa and Stephen being interviewed on C-Span Book TV, back in 1999, in which the couple spoke of their twentieth century collection of letters and how they made their choices. They generally preferred to have only one letter from each writer, and they always included each letter in its entirety—this often affected their choices.

And then for something totally new and different.

Making excellent use of the technology that enabled our Literature Club to continue (fearlessly, doggedly) throughout the pandemic, as a special treat Sharon had set up a Zoom call with Lisa and Stephen, so we could have a real time Q and A with the writers. Not only that, but the ever-alert Sharon had prepared several questions for the writers. What inspired them to start creating these letter collections? Fittingly, it was a Valentine book filled with love letters. How many did they read for their first book? Well, they read about 400,000 letters in total for The Century in Letters. And yes, of course they had to “kill their darlings.” Before every single letter in their collections, there is a brief blurb setting up the context in which the letter was written; they did this because they felt it was important to tell some history and present the letters chronologically, and this often required explanations. As for how they divided up the work: Lisa was the one who captured, found and initially read through the many letters; Steve read the finalists and did all the work of getting the rights to publish. And Lisa wrote all the introductory paragraphs.

What was the big surprise? That maybe wasn’t such a surprise at all. Well, love letters are all the same, and human emotions transcend the times in which they are written. Contrary to what some may think, romantic love is not a modern invention. They were also interested to discover how the voice of the writers stayed the same from youth to senescence. Asked what the theme would be were they to do another collection, they answered that they would look at the letters of immigrants or at emails. Either way, they doubt this will happen, given the current state of publishing.

They both agreed that despite all the gloomy declarations that the Internet has killed correspondence, they believe that the telephone, far more than email, has been the culprit that has removed valuable exchanges from the material available to scholars and historians. Alas.

After thanking Lisa and Stephen for their gracious willingness to join us at our meeting, we turned to the excitement of the actual letters.

This writer will not even try to quote all the gems we heard, for that you will have to read the book. We heard from a wonderfully interesting, quirky, and powerful group of women. These included Abigail Grant castigating her husband for cowardice in 1776; Juliana Smith writing to her brother John about a toothbrush; Martha Washington dispensing advice about worms; Theodosia Burr, daughter of Aaron, who lost her only son; and a Cherokee woman writing to the government. We also heard from Tamsin Donner, a Donner party member who did not get eaten*; from one writer and her self-righteous outrage over Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin; from six-year-old Grace writing to Abraham Lincoln; from Clara Barton writing on the eve of battle; from Emily Dickinson; from a woman seeking her possibly dead six-toed husband, wondering if he was the one mauled by a bear; a Dear John letter from Agnes von something to Hemingway; and Marilyn Monroe’s impassioned plea, taped to her chest, imploring her surgeon to not remove her ovaries. The final letter described an enticing encounter with Al Pacino.

Every single letter we read had a distinct voice, and a story to tell. If Lisa and Stephen struggled to make their final decisions, imagine what Sharon had to go through to come up with fewer than thirty letters out of 400. We are all grateful to her for her excellent culling.

It was a fascinating afternoon.

Respectfully submitted,
Christine Lehner, Recording Secretary

*Correction from Sharon. She did in fact get eaten, sometime after writing the letter. The nature of this correction may also qualify as a Literature Club first.

Christine Presents Clarissa by Samuel Richardson

Jacquie's Email: Hello Literary Ladies! I thought that perhapf I muft write thif whole email in the fafhion of the day, but fellcheck would have none of it!*

Just a reminder that we will be meeting this Wednesday, the day after the election (!), at Dianaʼs welcoming home. Christine will be presenting on Clarissa; or, The History of a Young Lady: Comprehending the Most Important Concerns of Private Life. And Particularly Shewing, the Distresses that May Attend the Misconduct Both of Parents and Children, In Relation to Marriage by Samuel Richardson.

When I wrote to ask Christine if this was indeed the correct full name of Richardson's epistolary novel she wrote:

      “Yes, indeed that is the title of the book, a case in which the length of title corresponds to the length of the book, just barely. Feel free to make the title even longer. It is a profoundly strange book to read in this world we live in. And I can't believe I am presenting one day after election day, not that I anticipate knowing for sure the results....in fact, I expect to be in an even greater state of anxiety than I am now.”

So, I look forward to both the conversation and Dianaʼs not lunch, beginning at noon, as well as Christine's presentation, which will begin shortly after Joanna rings the bell at 1pm. I imagine our time together, as always, will pass swiftly by.

Hope to fee you all on Wednefday! xJacquie

*The long s, also known as the medial or initial s, was a version of the lowercase “s” that was used in English from the 18th to 19th centuries. It was written as “f” and was used in the following ways:

• Only for lowercase “s”
• At the beginning or middle of a word
• In double “s” sequences, unless the letters were at the end of the word
• For example, “ſinfulneſs” for “sinfulness” and “poſſeſs” for “possess”

The long s was considered antiquated by the late 18th century and began to disappear, eventually stopping its use in printed materials in England in the 1810s and 1820s. However, it was still used in handwriting for longer. (From AI Overview. Imagine one day there will be an asterisk explaining AI...)

Joanna's Minutes The members of the Hastings Literature Club gathered on Wednesday, November 6, to spend a few hours not thinking about the previous day's election and the four years ahead. They were only somewhat successful in this endeavor.

More successful was Diana Jaeger's effort to make a delicious, tangy chicken salad and set out a lovely spread for us to enjoy. Certain members were delighted when Diana returned from the kitchen with a large bowl of more chicken salad and felt it permissible to take a second (and possibly third) helping.

Jacquie Weitzman recounted having visited the White House with her sister for a children's book event hosted by the Bidens. Again, the Literature Club strove to not think about the future. Carol Barkin recently back from France recommended Julia Child’s book My Life in France. Life in France was a comforting notion to many members.

The bell was rung at or about 1:00 PM and the meeting began.

Treasurer Lori Walsh confirmed the unchanged balance in the Club’s account: $248.06.

We then settled in for Christine Lehner's presentation on the novel Clarissa by Samuel Richardson. This summary of Christine's breakneck presentation strives to be short, in inverse proportion to the novel under examination, known to be the longest novel in the English language.

Christine succinctly asked and answered the rhetorical question: why Clarissa? Because it is there. Like Mallory's Everest, Clarissa is monumental: 969,000 words, somewhere in the vicinity of 3800 pages, or 103 hours as an audio book. Even its full title is long: Clarissa: or, the History of a Young Lady: Comprehending the Most Important Concerns of Private Life, and Particularly Showing the Distress that May Attend the Misconduct Both of Parents and Children, in Relation to Marriage.

Samuel Richardson was born in 1689, one of nine children. His father was a joiner (carpenter) of great skill. Richardson said that he spent his youth telling stories and writing letters. By the age of 13, he became known for his letter-writing ability, helping girls write their replies to love letters.

To gratify a thirst for reading, Richardson decided to become a printer and, at age 17, signed on for a seven-year apprenticeship, and then set up his own business. In 1721, he married Martha. By 1723 he was printing a Jacobite political bi-weekly for the first Duke of Wharton He would later incorporate many of Wharton’s libertine characteristics in the character of Robert Lovelace.

Meanwhile, over a 10-year marriage, Martha gave birth to five sons and one daughter. Four of these sons died before Martha did in 1731; the fifth son died within a year of his mother's death. Richardson then remarried to another daughter of a printer; she went on to give birth to six children, five daughters and one son. Four of the daughters lived to adulthood but their son, another Samuel, died as an infant. Richardson ran a successful business. In 1739 Richardson was asked by his friends to write a little volume of letters. This project inspired his first novel Pamela; or, Virtue Rewarded—a mere 380 pages long. He wrote a sequel to the well-liked Pamela, which was not a success and then embarked on the project that would be Clarissa. It was published in full in 1744 in seven volumes.

Richardson wrote other books and continued to work at his thriving printing business. By 1758 he was suffering from various ailments. He died in July 1761 and was buried next to his first wife. Having no surviving sons, his printing business went to a second nephew, with no head for business, who sold the copyrights to Richardson's novels.

From a young age and throughout his life Richardson wrote copious letters. He believed in the usefulness of written letters to reveal character. Despite the formidable task of summarizing this enormous work, Christine did so in six words: things go from bad to worse. Much of Clarissa consists of letters between the title character and her best friend Anna Howe and also letters from the full cast of characters.

Clarissa Harlowe has been had been left an inheritance. Robert Lovelace, a wealthy libertine and heir to a substantial estate, begins to court Arabella, Clarissa’s older sister. Lovelace quickly moves on from Arabella to Clarissa. Clarissa dislikes and distrusts the notorious Lovelace; Arabella grows jealous of Lovelace’s interest in the younger girl. James, their brother also dislikes Lovelace because of a duel the two had fought. James and Arabella also resent that their grandfather left Clarissa a piece of land.

The entire Harlowe family is in favour of Clarissa marrying Roger Solmes. However, Clarissa does not wish to marry him, either. The Harlowes begin restricting Clarissa’s contact with the outside world by forbidding her to see Lovelace. Eventually they forbid her to either leave her room or send letters to her friend. Trapped and desperate to regain her freedom Clarissa continues to communicate with Anna secretly and begins a correspondence with Lovelace, while trying to convince her parents not to force her to marry Solmes.

Through clandestine correspondence, Lovelace pressures Clarissa into agreeing to elope with him. Clarissa reluctantly agrees but then changes her mind. She goes in person at the agreed nighttime hour to tell Lovelace she will not elope with him. Frightened by the repercussions of being seen to be eloping with the enemy, Clarissa stops resisting Lovelace, and allows herself to be carried off. Lovelace keeps Clarissa his prisoner for many months. She's held at several lodgings, including unknowingly a brothel. And although Lovelace puts her under increasing pressure to submit to him, Clarissa does not waver and manages to escape. Lovelace then drugs then rapes her. Clarissa escapes (again). She is wracked by illness; she reaches out to her father asking him to lift the curse he put upon her; her father does so. Eventually Clarissa dies in the full consciousness of her virtue and trusting in a better life after death.

Clarissa’s relatives finally realize that they have been wrong, but it comes too late.

We spent the afternoon listening to Christine’s summary of the action (and sometimes inaction) of the novel, read passages that gave us a flavor of Richardson's prose and not thinking about the other stuff to which the phrase “things go from bad to worse” might apply.

Respectfully submitted,
Joanna Riesman