dear alice,
we’ve never met but i sometimes think that i know you through your stories. not all the time, of course, because some of your stories are distant. take, for instance, “Friend of my Youth”. i know it’s complete and the wall is symbolic but i can’t connect. is it because it’s set in distant days and i cannot relate? perhaps. it’s as if the house has precedence over the characters and that makes me nervous.
but there are moments of intimacy.
“Gravel” is an amazing story. it’s so intimate that it’s scary. as a former nurse who worked in psych, i see the therapeutic value of this story and the ending? it eases the reader. i want you to know that i printed it off and sent it to an old friend of mine whose childhood was chaotic in much the same way. she wrote me back and said “thank you for sending this. this could’ve been me, you know. it could’ve.” that’s something, alice. it really is.
reading this letter over, my reader relationship with you sounds a lot like marriage, alice, and i guess we’re in it together. there are moments i want to quit the distant you and then i’m back in love with your immediacy. i guess what i’m saying is that i’m committed.
how about you?