The art of letter writing is personal and has been diminished since the advent of the internet. I have always enjoyed writing and note to many that it is easier to express myself on paper than through speaking. Sometimes I think I enjoy writing reviews as much or even more than reading because it allows me to express my feelings about what I read in the manner I know best. Whether it was beginning correspondence with multiple penpals during adolescence or drafting long letters home during my summers at sleep away camp, writing has played a role in my life. Two books of letter writing stand out in my reading life: Dear Mister Henshaw, of which I still own a copy, and 84, Charing Cross Road. In both situations, the primary letter writer finds someone to pour their life out to and receive letters in return. One book is fictional but received many awards for young readers at the time, and the other lead the author to fame and life as a renown author. Although I generally do not read authors’ debuts, when I read the blurb of The Correspondent, it spoke to me. Combining letter writing with the knowledge of a life well lived, Virginia Evans crafted the life of Sybil Van Antwerp out of her letters to various people in her life. A personality that reminded me of various older women of knowledge who I have come across in my reading endeavors, Sybil Van Antwerp sounded like a woman who I would love to get to know better, and I immersed myself in her life over the course of mere hours.
Sybil Van Antwerp harbors a secret that has been plaguing her for years. To know the secret is to know Sybil, but she did not tell a living soul for over forty years of her life. On the surface, one would think that Sybil is a bitter old lady, and in many ways she is. Living in Annapolis, divorced for years, and maintaining a working only relationship with her daughter, Sybil turns to reading and writing for her primary pastimes as a retiree. Sybil began writing in high school when her friend Rosalie moved and she needed a sounding board. Sybil’s mother had just been diagnosed with cancer and Rosalie was the only one who understood her at the time. Both young people loved to read and exchanged the books they read, something they would do for the rest of their lives. In high school, Sybil was enamored with the work of C.S. Lewis, and he became the first author that she corresponded with. When Lewis responded, it gave Sybil the courage to write to writers for the rest of her life, and she would maintain a writing relationship with Joan Didion, who she called a friend, and Ann Patchett, among others. When discussing why she wrote to young people, she told them that famous people are just people, so do not be shy to write to them. While Sybil’s daughter Fiona rolled her eyes at her mother’s ability to write to strangers and yet not develop real relationships with people, writing is all Sybil had, and it kept her grounded during many difficult periods of her life.
Readers find out that after over forty years, Sybil still mourns the loss of her son Gilbert and blames herself for his death. Sybil is adopted and believes that she failed as a wife and mother and turned to her work as a lawyer to mask her lack of maternal instinct. From work as a lawyer and clerk, Sybil turned to writing as a retiree. It is how she kept up with her law partner, friends, family, and even minor acquaintances. She would write to the Dean of colleges to request class catalogues so that she could audit courses and continue her correspondence with authors. Admittedly, the blurb for this book mentioned Sybil writing to Larry McMurtry, and that is what whet my interest for his book, as I have been reading through and savoring the Lonesome Dove tetralogy. Sybil’s insights into the book, of which she read three times prior to going blind, made me savor the series anew, and, allowed me to see how books become friends for the best of us introverts. The difference between the fictional Sybil Van Antwerp and the rest of us is that she received actual responses from authors while the rest of us in modern times might be fortunate to receive an automated response via email, a medium that Sybil despises. Although it has been ten or more years, Sybil reminds me of a cross between my paternal grandmother and her first cousin, and made me appreciate the bygone generations and their art of communication via letter writing.
Evans notes that “the letters one has sent out into the world, the letters received back in turn, are like pieces of a magnificent puzzle…Isn’t there something wonderful in that, to think that a story of one’s life is preserved in some way, that this very letter may one day mean something, even if it’s a very small thing, to someone?” Sybil notes that in her years of correspondence with Rosalie that the two of them could write a book, although it might not mean anything to anyone else. I beg to differ. Sybil has poured out her feelings to Rosalie in a way that she could not by speaking. She cited her failures as a mother and talked of their friendship, and both women discussed both major issues and the minutiae of life. I would find that fascinating but I’m a pseudo-writer in my own right. Why I say that Sybil reminds me of my grandmother is that she would speak to people who most of us only know in passing and formulate friendships out of these interactions. Sybil would do the same through her letter writing and found new friends in the customer service representative and college professor. Writing gave her the courage to find friendship and love with her neighbor in the winter of their lives and to find her biological relatives when her son Bruce bought her a subscription to Kindred for the holidays. Sybil Van Antwerp might not come across as sharp and intelligent as a speaker- and she detests public speaking- but as a writer, people might think that she was one of the elite intellectuals in America. One would never know that she is a five foot, septuagenarian going blind, who spends most of her existence at a writing desk.
Most debuts I have encountered over the years are not polished. It is why I read writing by most once they have a few or more books under their belt and then return to their body of work. It leads me to patterns in their writing and offers aha moments that I might not have should I have chosen to start with debuts. The Correspondent does not read like a debut. Virginia Evans has crafted together a life of a complex person and the relationships she has maintained throughout her life. Whether it is her loving relationship with a distraught teen, encouraging a high school student to go into law, or mending the past with her daughter, one views Sybil as a real person with real problems, not a persona. Colum McCann has noted that just because a character only lives on paper does not mean that they are not real. Sybil Van Antwerp with all her baggage and grief and how that has brought her to the last season of her life is real for me. She has taught me that I should perhaps not spend my entire existence reading and writing and develop lasting relationships with my family and friends and even people I meet in passing. It is disheartening that with the internet that letter writing has become a lost art. It is easy to send a text but those words are most often than not immediately disposed of. I miss taking the time to write a personalized letter. Sybil Van Antwerp feels to me as real as a letter writer as the real life Helene Hanff, so I savored her life in mere hours as I am wont to do with epistolary novels. If this is a debut, I believe the sky is the limit for Virginia Evans. I will be following her career with much intrigue and interest.
4.5 stars