During the pandemic I read Tom Robbins' book, Tibetan Peach Pie: A True Account of an Imaginative Life, and decided to write him a letter thanking him for his wildly beautiful perspective on life. To my surprise, he wrote back a very kind response on stationary showing a woman fighting off a jaguar. He was 88 at the time, perhaps struggling as I was, but managed to give me some sage advice and closed his letter with, "Love, Beauty, Serenity, Novelty, Mystery, Mischief & Mirth." I framed his letter and look at it every day. It's one of my most cherished possessions!
As a kid growing up in Newark, New Jersey, I could see all of lower and midtown Manhattan from our kitchen window. At night the buildings looked magical--especially compared to Newark.
I was a great fan of John Lindsay who, at the time, seemed to me to be the local embodiment of John Kennedy. No one likes Lindsay these days, C'mon, I was only about 12 years old when he was elected. I still have a soft spot for his politics.
Anyway, I began to write letters to him, at first congratulating him that he won against Abe Beame and Bill Buckley, and giving him support when the Transit Workers Union went on strike and when the sanitation workers went on strike. And he, or some assistant of his wrote back! They were usually short letters thanking me for my support--but still for a kid these were my treasures. I showed them to all my teachers and all my friends.
I once wrote a letter to him about how air pollution from New Jersey was carried by westerly winds to New York, and perhaps he might want to think about working regionally to do something about this. (This was in an era when politicians actually cared about air pollution. Those old enough might remember the smog attack in November, 1966.) To my surprise, there was an article in the Star-Ledger that featured my letter! But the best one was in response to a letter I wrote to him about his proposal for the New York Police Department Civilian Review Board. Rather than a short thank you letter, this one took up almost the entiore side of letter-size paper, referred to my past letters and not only did it include, like the others, a New York City Seal (the one with the windmill and Indian), but this one was GOLD. I don't remember the details of the letter, but I do remember this line: "You seem to be a young man keenly aware of New York City and our policies." You bet I was.
We didn't have a tennis club, but we had a touch football team, and I invited Lindsay and his staff to Newark to play us. He even responded to that one--politely declining.
I'd love to see those letters today but, as with you Paul, they are lost to history.
You're right, of course. Thanks for the reminder. Have you heard about the correspondence between author Mary Renault (who wrote very wonderful adult fiction featuring Greek mythical heroes) and a young Daniel Mendelsohn who loved her books and grew up to become a classics professor at the University of Chicago and published a translation of The Odyssey to great acclaim as the truest to the original? From South Africa, Mary answered the little American boy's fan letter and they corresponded until her death. As a passionate lover of Renault's books, I was charmed by this story. In the New York Times, I think.
I once emailed a fan letter to Andrew Vickers, a PhD attending research methodologist at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. I had read a number of his articles explaining statistics concepts and had become a fan of his. His explanations of statistics were always so clear and yet not dumbed-down at all. I felt a little odd writing a fangirl email, but I just had to thank him for his enjoyable articles. He wrote me back and was obviously pleased to have received email. And he mentioned he had a book coming out called, "What is a p-value anyway?", which had even more statistics nuggets beautifully explained. I hope he's gotten lots more fan letters since then. 😊
After finishing a new novel written by a lady author living in a town about an hour away, I emailed praise for her work. I received no reply. I worried and wondered if she might fear that I, as a male person--even though quite an older male person--might stalk or otherwise have untoward intentions. I began to regret offering praise at all, if I had inadvertently aroused some fear for her.
I have never written a fan letter, but my nephews went away to summer camp, and I loved writing them handwritten letters and loved receiving them even more. Something happened between when I was a kid and wrote letters all the time and now. I find that my mind moves faster than my hand, and as a result, my handwriting has become illegible.
So writing letters has been an exercise in slowing my brain to the pace of my hand, and I find it meditative in a way.
Your posts are inspiring. I think I will write a letter to David Sedaris. I just started his new book, The Land and It’s People. He is one of my favorite authors!
Agree about David Sedaris -- no one else with a voice like that! Have not read the new book, but Happy Go Lucky is one of the funniest (and saddest) books I've ever read. The psychopathology of his father was so extreme.
Yet another wonderful post! (See what I'm doing here, Paul? I'm writing you a fan letter 😉). I've written to a handful of authors whose books I've loved; some have answered (Heather Hendershott re: her history of "Firing Line"; Richard Rothstein re: "The Color of Law") and some haven't (Isabel Wilkerson re: "The Warmth of Other Suns"). My favorite reply was from Derek Jacobi, whom I saw in a performance of "Much Ado About Nothing" when I was a first-year medical student, lo these many years ago. I'm looking forward to reading Posnanski's "Big Fan" (co-written with Michael Schur) and "Why We Love Baseball: A History in 50 Moments". Have you read either of those?
My archival skills have remained quite good over the years, so I still have his reply. He thanked me for my 'warm and generous' letter and said that he was 'delighted' I enjoyed the production of "Much Ado About Nothing" 'well enough to write and share your feelings with me', closing with his 'best wishes'. And he's got a fabulous signature as a bonus!
Jumping in to say (1) I second Jeanne's praise of Paul's newsletter; and (2) I saw that production of "Much Ado About Nothing" too! After, I remember thinking that my lit professors were wrong. I was always taught that Shakespeare tragedies end in death and his comedies end in a wedding. But that production of "Much Ado" was laugh-out-loud funny throughout. Like Jeanne, I also wrote a fan letter which I left at the theater. Unlike Jeanne, I never heard back from him.
During the pandemic I read Tom Robbins' book, Tibetan Peach Pie: A True Account of an Imaginative Life, and decided to write him a letter thanking him for his wildly beautiful perspective on life. To my surprise, he wrote back a very kind response on stationary showing a woman fighting off a jaguar. He was 88 at the time, perhaps struggling as I was, but managed to give me some sage advice and closed his letter with, "Love, Beauty, Serenity, Novelty, Mystery, Mischief & Mirth." I framed his letter and look at it every day. It's one of my most cherished possessions!
My father frequently quoted Clifton Fadiman, saying, "Cheese is milk's leap to immortality".
He was very quotable!
As a kid growing up in Newark, New Jersey, I could see all of lower and midtown Manhattan from our kitchen window. At night the buildings looked magical--especially compared to Newark.
I was a great fan of John Lindsay who, at the time, seemed to me to be the local embodiment of John Kennedy. No one likes Lindsay these days, C'mon, I was only about 12 years old when he was elected. I still have a soft spot for his politics.
Anyway, I began to write letters to him, at first congratulating him that he won against Abe Beame and Bill Buckley, and giving him support when the Transit Workers Union went on strike and when the sanitation workers went on strike. And he, or some assistant of his wrote back! They were usually short letters thanking me for my support--but still for a kid these were my treasures. I showed them to all my teachers and all my friends.
I once wrote a letter to him about how air pollution from New Jersey was carried by westerly winds to New York, and perhaps he might want to think about working regionally to do something about this. (This was in an era when politicians actually cared about air pollution. Those old enough might remember the smog attack in November, 1966.) To my surprise, there was an article in the Star-Ledger that featured my letter! But the best one was in response to a letter I wrote to him about his proposal for the New York Police Department Civilian Review Board. Rather than a short thank you letter, this one took up almost the entiore side of letter-size paper, referred to my past letters and not only did it include, like the others, a New York City Seal (the one with the windmill and Indian), but this one was GOLD. I don't remember the details of the letter, but I do remember this line: "You seem to be a young man keenly aware of New York City and our policies." You bet I was.
We didn't have a tennis club, but we had a touch football team, and I invited Lindsay and his staff to Newark to play us. He even responded to that one--politely declining.
I'd love to see those letters today but, as with you Paul, they are lost to history.
You're right, of course. Thanks for the reminder. Have you heard about the correspondence between author Mary Renault (who wrote very wonderful adult fiction featuring Greek mythical heroes) and a young Daniel Mendelsohn who loved her books and grew up to become a classics professor at the University of Chicago and published a translation of The Odyssey to great acclaim as the truest to the original? From South Africa, Mary answered the little American boy's fan letter and they corresponded until her death. As a passionate lover of Renault's books, I was charmed by this story. In the New York Times, I think.
I once emailed a fan letter to Andrew Vickers, a PhD attending research methodologist at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center. I had read a number of his articles explaining statistics concepts and had become a fan of his. His explanations of statistics were always so clear and yet not dumbed-down at all. I felt a little odd writing a fangirl email, but I just had to thank him for his enjoyable articles. He wrote me back and was obviously pleased to have received email. And he mentioned he had a book coming out called, "What is a p-value anyway?", which had even more statistics nuggets beautifully explained. I hope he's gotten lots more fan letters since then. 😊
After finishing a new novel written by a lady author living in a town about an hour away, I emailed praise for her work. I received no reply. I worried and wondered if she might fear that I, as a male person--even though quite an older male person--might stalk or otherwise have untoward intentions. I began to regret offering praise at all, if I had inadvertently aroused some fear for her.
Bet she appreciated getting the fan mail, even if she didn't respond!
I have never written a fan letter, but my nephews went away to summer camp, and I loved writing them handwritten letters and loved receiving them even more. Something happened between when I was a kid and wrote letters all the time and now. I find that my mind moves faster than my hand, and as a result, my handwriting has become illegible.
So writing letters has been an exercise in slowing my brain to the pace of my hand, and I find it meditative in a way.
Your posts are inspiring. I think I will write a letter to David Sedaris. I just started his new book, The Land and It’s People. He is one of my favorite authors!
Agree about David Sedaris -- no one else with a voice like that! Have not read the new book, but Happy Go Lucky is one of the funniest (and saddest) books I've ever read. The psychopathology of his father was so extreme.
Yet another wonderful post! (See what I'm doing here, Paul? I'm writing you a fan letter 😉). I've written to a handful of authors whose books I've loved; some have answered (Heather Hendershott re: her history of "Firing Line"; Richard Rothstein re: "The Color of Law") and some haven't (Isabel Wilkerson re: "The Warmth of Other Suns"). My favorite reply was from Derek Jacobi, whom I saw in a performance of "Much Ado About Nothing" when I was a first-year medical student, lo these many years ago. I'm looking forward to reading Posnanski's "Big Fan" (co-written with Michael Schur) and "Why We Love Baseball: A History in 50 Moments". Have you read either of those?
Thanks, Jeanne!
So what did Derek Jacobi say? And impressive that you went to a Shakespeare play (let alone any play) during the first year of medical school.
My archival skills have remained quite good over the years, so I still have his reply. He thanked me for my 'warm and generous' letter and said that he was 'delighted' I enjoyed the production of "Much Ado About Nothing" 'well enough to write and share your feelings with me', closing with his 'best wishes'. And he's got a fabulous signature as a bonus!
That's one major regret about the Robert Penn Warren anecdote ... a lost signature of a literary luminary.
Jumping in to say (1) I second Jeanne's praise of Paul's newsletter; and (2) I saw that production of "Much Ado About Nothing" too! After, I remember thinking that my lit professors were wrong. I was always taught that Shakespeare tragedies end in death and his comedies end in a wedding. But that production of "Much Ado" was laugh-out-loud funny throughout. Like Jeanne, I also wrote a fan letter which I left at the theater. Unlike Jeanne, I never heard back from him.
Thank you Nell! And I remember sending a fan mail message to you, about your book. You kindly replied, too!