Would Your Life Make Sense in Letters? Read the Novel, The Correspondent

Virginia Evans' debut

The art of letter writing

At my mother's funeral, dozens of people told my sisters and me how much they had appreciated Mother's frequent, handwritten notes. Mother was a prolific thank-you note writer, communicating more easily in words than she did in conversation where she was quiet, aloof, and sometimes perceived as cold. Her ability to communicate in writing, however, was superb. All those note-recipients who came to pay their last respects could not have been wrong! (As a mature older woman, I now try to follow my mother's example of writing thank you notes, because what means more than receiving a missive in the mail that took time, effort, thought, and money to send?)

My Dad was a champion letter writer, too, capable of sounding exactly like himself on paper, a vibrant mix of humor and love. Letters that I have saved and transcribed from decades ago still bring his voice right back to me with a jolt of joy. (You can read a snippet of one of his letters to his family in the article linked below.)

Over my own lifetime, I've corresponded with a dear friend and successful novelist for decades, as well as former teachers, students, and family members. Needless to say, written correspondence is vital to my life since my livelihood is based on putting words together. These days, written letters are a rare and precious legacy.

During the pandemic, in November of 2020, I wrote "The Value of Old Fashioned Letters in a Temporary Society" :

"Today, in a society where communication is a constant stream of quick texts and instant messages, I fear that our personal stories and much of our history will be lost in the cyber vortex of deleted messages and crashed computers. Nothing means more than the permanence, eloquence, and tangibility of a letter."

So it's no wonder I loved Virginia Evans' 2025 debut novel, The Correspondent, based on an older woman who has spent her life writing letters, dribbling out her life story in missives to others, a lasting legacy of a complicated woman.

The prickly, highly intelligent Sybil Van Antwerp

Sybil Van Antwerp is a tough nut to crack. She prefers to write letters instead of dealing with people face-to-face. Her years of experience as an attorney and then clerk to one of the top judges of the era, Sybil is a master at using her pen as a weapon. Every day, she sits down at her writing desk, complete with special-order stationery, and writes. She is argumentative, prickly, dismissive, and hard to connect with - unless you are her brother or her best friend. For all the others she needs to deal with, her neighbor, her eye doctor, a customer service rep, a potential beau, the President of her garden club, and the Dean of the college where Sybil wants to audit classes, Sybil crafts letters of scathing wit, curt descriptions, and outright indignation. (She reminded me of Olive Kitteridge's difficult character.)

Do you know what epistolary means?

There's a name for novels told through written letters: "Epistolary." The word epistolary is based on the Greek, "epistole" which means "letters." Novels in this format use written documents, usually letters, but can also include other formats like newspaper clippings, log books, as well as journal and diary entries. In this case, however, The Correspondent uses only letters written or received by Sybil. (One well-known recent example of another epistolary novel is The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows.)

It is through the letters in The Correspondent that we begin to piece together Sybil's painful history. From her almost non-existent relationship with her daughter, to her decades-long friendship with Rosalie, clues emerge as to what has made her such a prickly, sad, woman.

Letters written to authors

One of my favorite parts about this book is that Sybil writes letters to authors of books. Surprisingly, many of them write back. She even forms a friendship with Joan Didion because she writes to her about her opinions on her books.

Never shy, Sybil writes other well-known figures: George Lucas, Kazuo Ishiguro, and Diana Gabaldon, author of the popular Outlander series whose books had not been mentioned to Sybil because, after all, "they contain lots of sex," titters one of her friends, and Sybil is surely too removed from physical desire to want to read that! Sybil, however, devours the first book and is moved to send a letter to Gabaldon:

"Well, I read all day, skipped garden club, read into the night, woke in the morning, and read all the next morning, finished the book the weight of a doorstop that night, and stepped onto my back porch like an opossum blinking blearily. "Lots of sex," as it turns out, was understated, and I'll not pretend I didn't enjoy it, though there were some of the violent bits I admited I skipped over, my word. But it was the PLACE. From the comfort of my reading chair, my feet on the ottoman, the light on at my head, my tea, I've been positively delivered into the interior of Scotland. How can I thank you?"

I began to ponder.

Which authors would I write to? Why, as a writer and an avid reader, have I not done this more often? I can only think of one instance where I was moved to actually send an email to an author because I was so transfixed by the story. It was to David Grann about his article, The White Darkness, in The New Yorker in 2018.

But so many other authors have touched my soul. Rick Bragg. Lillian Schlissel, Ann Lamott, Natalie Goldberg, Markus Zusak, Atul Gawande, Anne Patchett, Sue Monk Kidd, just to name a few. And of course, there are authors who no longer are living that I would like to thank in the great beyond: Walt Whitman, Willa Cather, Wallace Stegner, J.R.R. Tolkien, Amy Krause Rosenthal, and a multitude of others.

The letters written but never sent

Have you ever written a letter that you never sent? Put thoughts to paper just to get them out only to tear up the pages they were written on immediately?

Sybil writes pages of letters labeled "unsent" to an unknown recipient, sheets of private thoughts year after year. Those pages are interspersed with her daily correspondence. When we find out who those letters are written to, the pieces of her life story fit together.

Real emotions and the redemptive power of reaching out to others

The novel, The Correspondent, is filled with the pervasive sense of loss and the anger, bitterness, and guilt that result from great tragedy.

Redemption lies in dealing with that guilt and reaching out to others. The prickly Sybil Van Antwerp transforms into a compassionate human, capable of forgiveness and love.

The Correspondent as a Gift

What a delightful surprise this book was, not just because of the depth of the story and the quirkiness of the character, but because it was a gift from a childhood friend. When my husband died, she knew that I was an avid reader and sent me The Correspondent as an acknowledgment that she was thinking of me. (Flowers were lovely gifts. As were donations to our chosen charities, visits, and gift cards) but a book is permanent and spoke directly to my heart.)

Those who share the passion for reading know that books can soothe and transport you, easing pain and lifting you above the murky bottom dips of life. She hoped that this book would provide me with some moments of pleasure during my time of grief.

She was so right!

The lasting power of letters

I know that my mother's notes meant a lot to the people who received them. Daddy's funny, frequent letters bring him alive to me when I read them all these years later, and I wholeheartedly agree with what Sybil says:

"Imagine, the letters one has sent out into the world, the letters received back in turn, are like the 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 is a very small thing, to someone?"

Whatever stage of your life you're in, The Correspondent might bolster your spirits and improve your understanding of the human condition. It can shed light on the prickliest personalities, the devastating power of guilt, and the redemptive power of reaching out to others.

After reading it, you may even want to sit down and write a "real" letter in your own hand on actual paper to someone you hold dear.

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