Q. You too, huh?
A. That’s right! I’m starting an epistolary series called “Unfamiliar Letters.”
Q. Ok, I’ll bite: why “Unfamiliar Letters”?
A. It’s a play on Francesco Petrarch’s “Familiar Letters,” a collection of letters he wrote to friends and historical figures about his life and thoughts. They’re familiar in three senses. First, they’re affable and intimate. Second, they address topics of general interest. And third, they are about his familiarity with these topics. They are neither personal essays nor critical scholarship but float somewhere between the two, touching on specific subjects but always infusing them with his own experiences, preoccupations, and sense of humor. He’s like Montaigne, only earlier (and better).
Q. So we’ll be getting what, Petrarch fan fiction?
A. Not exactly. He’ll be more like the genius loci of this space, giving me my inspiration and themes. Petrarch wrote about religious faith, political virtue, and humanistic learning—all of course in sad decline. These are not only the great themes of his age, but also the great themes of aging cranks and incipient reactionaries of every age. Naturally I have a lot to say about them.
Besides Petrarch, I admire other authors too, especially Sir Thomas Browne, Leszek Kowlakowski, and Mikhail Zoshchenko: Browne for his wide-ranging subject matter and eye for obscure details, Kowlakowski for his expertise on the 17th-century and willingness to make sweeping generalizations about politics and history (see his essay “My Correct Views on Everything”), and Zoshchenko for his marvelous skaz, a Russian style of storytelling that features a chatty narrator who for some reason thinks he deserves your attention even though he doesn’t have anything important to say and besides isn’t nearly as smart as he thinks he is.
I love them all and plan to steal from them every chance I get.
Q. Don’t you already write about this stuff in book reviews?
A. Thanks for noticing! I do, but I want to try something else. In all honesty, the book review format is cramping my style. I know book reviews are supposedly endlessly flexible, but they almost always follow a particular pattern: a catchy opening, a nut graph explaining the book’s importance, a lot of summary, and then a little judgement. There isn’t much room to digress or follow the track of your own thought. And furthermore, as I enter middle age I’m realizing that if I don’t start putting certain ideas down on paper now and publishing them myself, I probably never will. That would be too bad, or at least I think so.
And the other thing about book reviews is that every one has to be on a topic that some editor deems important enough to hear about. I hope my letters will be truly unfamiliar, about the kind of topics that no editors in their right minds would ever cover. Would you like to hear some?
Q. Fine.
A. So here are some ideas I have percolating:
“On Professors Who Say They Love Teaching: Their Various Kinds and Emotional Problems”
“’By Merit Raised’: How Milton’s Satan Explains the Meritocracy”
“Theory of the Athleisure Class”
“The Problem of Necrophilia in Modern Moral Theory”
“Will Heaven Be Boring? A Comparison with the Internet.”
I also have a book review laying around that never got published because I tried to hand it in three and a half months late, and an account of my (rare) religious experiences. For the first letter, I might send out an essay that explains the prosperity gospel to a perplexed friend.
Which reminds me, I’ll be addressing each of these letters to someone I know, though of course changing their names and personal details to protect the innocent. These letters should only embarrass me.
Q. How often do you plan to send one of these?
A. I’m hoping every two weeks. I don’t want to bombard you, but nor do I want you to forget that I exist. (Though of course you can always unsubscribe.)
Q. How long are you going to keep this up?
A. I’m hoping to try the experiment for a year. If I don’t enjoy writing these letters as much as I think I will, or if nobody reads them, I may get discouraged and quit early. If they catch on, I may be writing them for a long time.
Q. Wait, some newsletters cost money; you don’t expect me to pay for this, do you?
A. Certainly not at first. I’m really just hoping that you’ll subscribe to the newsletter and read it. Who knows? You could even write me a letter, and I could write to back on a topic of your choosing!
Q. …I’ll get back to you on that.