A Letter to Letters

Dearest FM Reader,

For what it’s worth, “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” is one of my comfort movies.

I watched it for the first time when I started high school, and I imagine I was taken with the same emotions as every other teenage girl it was marketed toward. I was rooting for (and jealous of) Lara Jean, completely enamoured with Peter, and, naively, convinced that all it would take to enter a loving relationship would be to write letters to my crushes and have my (nonexistent) younger sister find them and mail them out unbeknownst to me.

While it works out for the fictional couple, I know that realistically, receiving a handwritten letter from a girl you vaguely knew in middle school about her feelings for you is probably really creepy. But, in the movie’s defense, there’s also something touching about realizing someone admires you enough to write such a vulnerable message — and take the time and labor out of their day to do so.

Letters have long departed as a primary mode of communication. So when we write and receive them today, what exactly do they represent to us?

Handwriting reflects intentionality. There’s a reason why legal documents require pen-to-paper signatures, and why big corporations use fonts that resemble scrawls to try to emphasize their personability. At Harvard, you might find a personalized letter or invitation slipped under your door after successfully comping a club, officially welcoming you into the organization. And if you think back to when you were hearing back from colleges, there might be one or two admissions counselors who specifically took the time to write you a congratulatory note on the margins of your typed-up acceptance letter. When we take the time to physically write something down, we forgo convenience to prove our authenticity. And, when we are the ones receiving letters, we recognize and appreciate this effort.

Of course, letters are also artistic, literary endeavors. Adjacent to the essay, the letter possibly fits into the genre of creative nonfiction, as it offers an intimate reflection that’s nevertheless curated for an audience. Subconsciously, we may include many of the same elements that are found in an essay: There’s usually the equivalent of a thesis, explaining why you’re writing the letter and assuring your reader of your continued love and trust; or of your regret and hopes of forgiveness; or an expression of empathy and sorrow; or otherwise providing them with recent news or revelations. You also might include a statement of how you hope to make your audience feel with your message. In a form where there’s less context to accompany what you’re saying, be it body language or tone of voice, it becomes crucial to articulate your exact intentions to have your point successfully come across the page.

Also, the things we might write down on a regular basis are usually for our reference only — think class notes, grocery lists, and journal entries. Writing for somebody else, then, requires a purposeful elevation of both your physical and emotional legibility, as it requests the recipient to absorb your ideas in exchange for a part of your interiority.

The physical act of handwriting, though, is an entirely individual act. While it’s easy to share and collaborate on a Google Doc, a letter is hardly distributable in the same way. There’s something precious, singular, and therefore more fragile about a handwritten page, further raising its stakes in transit. You as the writer might even have a difficult time erasing and editing your own words — especially if you’re writing in pen. Something like humor might not come across as well in a letter because of these limitations on delivery and reception. So, as the process prescribes solitude, writing letters requires you to tap into a heightened clarity and proactiveness to prevent mistakes.

There’s also no expectation for your recipient to immediately react or respond, necessitating that what you’ve written was significant enough to package into a letter. Even if it’s delivered in person, there’s usually an agreement between the writer and the recipient for it to be read when they’ve parted, to extend privacy and time for reflection to both parties. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve personally used letters to communicate apology, gratitude, and concern. During college, when you’re often reminded to enjoy close proximity to your friends and enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime social experience, friendship can be as complex as it is joyful. Letters, I’ve found, provide the opportunity to initiate conversations that would be difficult or uncomfortable to digest in real time, and they clearly indicate a genuine and thoughtful intent through the form itself. Beyond the daily, usually lighthearted exchange of text messages and TikToks that manifest in a friendship, letters and handwritten content indisputably convey a level of consideration and care that is just as quintessential.

Writing a letter to someone, then, is inherently intimate. You offer a piece of yourself on which you spent a considerable amount of time and energy, compared to most texts or emails. Today, it’s especially seen as a “lost art” that makes it even more special to receive a letter. The irony, however, is that they are never truly “lost”: as they take up physical spaces, letters can be, and have been, preserved for periods longer than the digital age has even existed. There is a special permanence and timelessness this form assumes, in fact so against the grain of a current society that prioritizes speed and efficiency that the experience of letter writing can feel like a sentimental escape, a momentary opportunity to express true sincerity.

Maybe Lara Jean was onto something. To contain your deep feelings for someone in such a generous form that requires meditation and patience — even without the expectation of ever sending them out — could be cathartic in itself. It takes an incredible amount of emotional commitment not to just relay information to the recipient, but coherently detail your perspective through storytelling. Most crucially, writing letters allows us to slow down, be honest, and open ourselves up — and requests the same from our loved ones.

We should handwrite letters more often.

FM Love,

Chelsie

— Associate Magazine Editor Chelsie Lim can be reached at chelsie.lim@thecrimson.com. Her column “Form Fitting” explores the social and physical structures by which we are contained, reconciling how their literal and metaphorical forms manifest into our experiences of them.