04 February 2011

Since all that ys in question ys out of their bookes....

The last few months have been rather chaotic -- personally and professionally, and it is possible that the less said about them the better. On to better things this year, it can only be hoped, starting with access to a new archive which will hopefully help with style and content both of legal documents and of letter-writing when not intended for the public eye.

There is a great deal of difference between a letter written in the full knowledge and confidence that it will only be seen by its intended recipient, and ones which the writer knows may well be read by many eyes before it reaches its destination -- it gives a sense of dislocation and distance between two parties at times that I suspect is not only caused by physical separation, but a disparity in perception of the world around them.

In many ways, it is sadder to read the more formal letters, the ones that speak of being content in honour, of the glory of the moment, of the firmness of the writer's faith, than it is to read the more homely, loving ones that look forward to seeing the recipient again, and are filled with small news of home. The world has changed beneath the letters as they pass, and even if survival comes, there is now an almost insuperable chasm between what has been written in hope and thought in private.

It is frightening to realise that while I craft characters from history, history crafted men and women into characters they might never have been intended to become.

A sobering thought, and a good one to remember.

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