WORDS WITHIN WORDS: 

HOW WRITTEN CORRESPONDENCES EMBODY INDIVIDUAL RELATIONS

Dear Readers, 

         Let me tell you a story; one that is kind of about "Voyage in the Dark" by Jean Rhys, and kind of about "Small Island" by Andrea Levy, but mostly it is about how we write, read, and interpret letters written between individuals in fiction literature, and by extension, the literature of the self. 

I. How To Open All The Letters 

      Written letter discourse between individuals are prevalent and functionally diverse in both Small Island by Andrea Levy and Voyage in the Dark by Jean Rhys. Through analyzing these correspondences by categorizing how letters are working differently in these novels, we acknowledge the need to come to terms with how to understand these interpretations cohesively. This letter-essay strives for a thread of logic through which these applications of written correspondence in literature can be enveloped by a comprehensive strategy of analysis. They reveal social conventions, participate in world building of the novel’s landscape and narrative voice, are utilized as plot devices, and embody relations between those individuals discussing and being discussed. 

      Written correspondences between individuals can include much more than just letters, however. In Letter Writing as a Social Practice, David Barton and Nigel Hall explain, for instance, how letters can occur, “in many forms, letters, postcards, memos, electronic mail, dialogue journals, fax, etc., and while most people have an intuitive idea of what counts as letter writing, it is in fact a particularly difficult text object to define; after all, almost anything can be put in the form of a letter” (pp. 1). When analyzing Small Island and Voyage in the Dark, we are looking specifically here at the written correspondences between characters of these novels. While written letters are the most obvious examples, we also consider here a variety of other texts. These include written addresses and instructions, government mandated forms, and telegrams. All are constructed and/or written by characters within the novels, with the intention that other characters will recognize and respond to what has been written. 

      Eve Tavor Bannet describes the function of letters, which we apply here to our larger notion of what written correspondences can entail, in her Empire of Letter: Letter Manuals and Transatlantic Correspondence, 1680 – 1820 by describing how, “Eightenth-century British and American letter manuals taught codes, conventions and practices of letter-writing and letter reading that have now largely been forgotten, together with the proper conduct of conversation and of familial, social, sexual, professional, and commercial life. They were masterpieces of Enlightenment taxonomy that combined, in little space, examples of polite domestic, social, professional and commercial correspondence, instruction in Standard English and proper forms, and conduct book teaching in manners and morals” (pp. ix). Whereas Bannet focuses on the functionality of literal manuals on letter-writing conventions, letters themselves can represent expectations of letter-writing practices when we analyze how either intended recipients or the narrative itself perceives them. Both Small Island and Voyage in the Dark take place at a much later time period and are included without the inclusion of ‘proper’ writing manual techniques, but readers can nonetheless interpret some of the expectations and rules regarding letters and letter-writing as they are presented within the world of these two novels. 

      For example, the brevity of Anna’s postcard to her Uncle Bo, even by modern standards, is 

sparse and unrevealing. This seems to be abnormal and not something that one should do, even in a short form like the postcard. This reveals that there is something unsatisfying in the way Anna behaves and expresses herself, to the extent that her own family does not seem to understand her or know how to ‘reach her’ on a personal or emotional level. 

      When Bernard does not send letters to Queenie or seem to really even try until he is locked in an Indian prison with a bunch of “coolies”, this is a red flag to readers. It highlights how separated Bernard and Queenie are as husband and wife and on a personal level because they cannot even communicate with one another about important, effective events happening in Bernard’s life. And so we know the structural and social conventions expected of Small Island and Voyage in the Dark inhabitants as they write correspondences to one another through the examples when characters fail to meet those standards as represented in the novels. 

      These social convention expectations is a form of world building, which Special Delivery: Epistolary Modes in Modern Fiction touches upon. On page x, “Kauffman… asks us to revel in the complexity these books share, their invitation to readers to enter into a restless, unstable, dramatic world”. This is probably the most obvious and endearing effect the inclusion of written correspondences between characters in literature can have upon readers. They make the characters more real because they have this interiority and agency to write and want to write letters to one another. This practice implies a higher sophistication than simple dialogue or prose descriptions of other characters. Kaufman and Stimpson show that it enlarges the world of the work because it implies the postal system and operational structure necessary in order for the exchange of these correspondences to be carried out successfully. It also internalizes his expansive world to within the literature separate from reader intervention because when characters are corresponding with one another in written form separate from the narrative prose, the reader is in a sense unnecessary in order for these exchanges to take place; these characters are behaving and interacting with one another on their own, and the reader is simply a looker-on, an intruder intercepting their mail. 

      Regardless of how much world building these letters accomplish, however, they are also working in many more ways. As Laura Rotunno points out in her Postal Plots in British Fiction, 1840 – 1898: Readdressing Correspondence in Victorian Culture, “The luckless lover and frustrated write, Edwin Reardon of New Grub Street, the entire population of Elizabeth Gaskell’s Cranford, Thomas Hardy’s downtrodden Father Time as well as his bold Valentine writer: all compose letters upon which plots turn” (pp. 1). I want to focus on the latter part of this sentence, which is the main point: “all compose letters upon which plots turn”. Not only is this true for the Victorian writers Rotunno discusses, but applicable to 20th – Century work as found in Small Island and Voyage in the Dark, because the letters within that transverse between characters are essential to how they interact with one another and how the plot changes. The letters Gilbert sends Queenie after they are separated may have helped him get the room in Queenie’s home after the war, while the address Queenie writes down for Arthur to return home is what allows Queenie and Gilbert to meet in the first place. Written correspondences in Voyage in the Dark allow Walter and Anna to perpetuate their relationship by organizing when to meet and where, etc. Letter writing allows Vincent (upon Walter’s behalf, apparently) to break up the relationship between Anna and Walter without having to speak to Anna in person. All of these events are key moments in the novels’ respective plots, moments which would have not been possible in the same way without the aid of such written correspondences. 

      And so, we can keep the multi-layered complexities of letter functions in literature in mind as we continue to delve deeper into this field through the aid of Small Island and Voyage in the Dark’s evidence. First, we begin by examining the most obvious instances of written correspondences, specifically when letters are reproduced in literature in the context that they were written to the other characters present in the world of the novel. 

II. Creating Physical Realism Through Presence 

      Letters included in both Small Island and Voyage in the Dark possess physical presence within the very text itself. They can be quoted directly by the prose perspective narrative, separated by line spaces, or italicized in either parts or as a whole within the text. 

      On pp. 178 of Andrea Levy’s Small Island, Gilbert finds the paper with Queenie’s address found in Arthur’s pocket. This is Arthur’s only remaining ability to communicate with strangers, since he has been so traumatized from serving during World War I. First, Gilbert reads the London address, but since they are so far away from the city, he must turn over the paper to discover his closer dwelling of residence. These are the only places in which Arthur lives, and it is important that he is no longer primarily associated with Bernard’s house, but rather wherever Queenie abides. This closeness with Queenie is emphasized when he is able to speak with her, if only for a moment. Here, written words bring characters together that play important roles in each other’s lives later on. These written words, and their placement within the text itself, allows Arthur to communicate with other characters and the readers as well, even though a perspective chapter and dialogue speech have been denied him. The physical presence of written correspondences can lend voices to those who otherwise would be unable to express themselves. 

      Unlike in Small Island, when written correspondences are physically inserted throughout Jean Rhys’s Voyage in the Dark, sometimes they are italicized. When this happens, letters are not spoken between characters through dialogue, nor are they spoken to the readers directly by the narrative prose voice. By presenting us with the contents of the letter, it is apparently uncensored especially in the instances where we are given letters in full from Dear Anna (pp. 91) to Sincerely, Vincent (pp. 94). In these instances, we are allowed to make our own interpretations, judgments, and conclusions about the letter’s author, its contents, and what it thus means for the narrative and other characters through whose hands this letter has passed. 

      Without other characters and narratives to ‘read’ these letters for us, we are put into the position of letter-writer and letter-reader and thus the letter is simply able to speak for itself. By giving readers minimal to no introduction before placing the letters within the novel, it is as though Anna from pp. 91 – 94 is thrusting the physical letter into our hands. She could just as easily addressed the readers, breaking the fourth wall, and said, “Here. Go ahead, read it. Read it for yourself. I’m through with it.” By characterizing Anna as dealing with trauma surrounding this particular letter by specifically not analyzing it for us, Anna’s behavior builds the world of her perspective through which we must experience the world of her novel. Anna distances herself from the letter’s contents, as though the narration itself cannot think about it any longer. We are denied a filter or interpretation, are not spoon-fed the letters’ meanings but must decide how important they are for ourselves. 

      The slanting, slightly curling fancier font style of italicized letter-insertions represents the visual nature of a real letter’s accompanying handwriting. By mimicking the physicality of real letters, it thus makes the letter seem more real, more credible evidence than dialogue between characters and certainly more so than the first person prose narration. This technique adds to the world building of the text, like how referencing real places, events, and time periods grounds the story in a reality we can recognize and relate to. 

      Also, the implied physicality of the letter separates it from the text of the narrative. It specializes it and isolates it from the other forms of inter-character communications present within the text. Letters are “text and”, more than just the text, something other than the text itself. 

      Since songs, book titles, and dream sequences are also italicized in Voyage in the Dark, this automatically invites a comparison to be made between these and the similarly italicized letters. Dreams in italics are when Anna is furthest within her own mind, but in expressing her dreams for us she is at once furthest and closest to the reader. We are privy to things that Anna experiences over and over in her mind and with us readers but that we can be essentially certain she has not shared with any of the other characters within the novel. 

      These italicized portions of the text are easy to locate when flipping through the physical book. And in associating the letters, songs, book titles, etc. together also separates them from the rest of the text. In their “otherness”, these references take on an almost otherworldly quality like there is a source material separate from the novel itself that is being quoted. Through songs, hawking calls on a lonely night, other literature, and even dreams, we journey into character minds, memory or somewhere else in the universe of dreams. There is a supernatural element to this more direct stream of consciousness, thus fleshing out the perception through which we engage the world around us while inhabiting the words and spaces the novels create. 

      Although the mention and repetition of Maillotte Boyd’s name and description as listed in the Constance Estate ledger (pp. 52 – 53) is not directly written between two characters in Voyage of the Dark’s primary timeline of events, nonetheless it has been originally written into the ledger by an implied ancestor of Anna’s. And Anna’s obsession with this Boyd’s immortalization of identity through the handwritten ledger assigns this information important meaning. The very existence of this instance of the written word within Anna’s mode of expressing her own narrative deems this name importance. Anna “writes” Boyd’s importance over and over in her mind, sometimes so much so that she seems more physically visible to the reader than some of the other “presently” written words. The physically re-imagining of Maillotte Boyd’s existence gives a look into Anna’s mind because she is thinking about the ledger just as much as we are when we read those words reproduced on the page. The importance of writing Boyd’s existence into the novel represents Anna’s relationship to her past and her desires for the future. 

      The letter Vincent sends Anna on pp. 91 – 94 is probably one of the most important letters with a physical presence within Voyage in the Dark because it takes up so much narrative space. Anna is denied direct communication with the intended speaker because Vincent professes to be writing on Walter’s behalf; she gets Walter’s apparent opinions from Vincent’s hand instead, like a child being talked down to. 

      Readers are shocked by its presence as well when we are denied any sort of narrative framing device other than the “false teeth” reductive memory beforehand. This denial could also reflect Anna’s inability or lack of desire to express her initial reactions to reading this inserted letter for the first time. We get Anna noticing Vincent’s unfamiliar handwriting, and then after the letter is interjected we get her re-reading the letter for the third time. What has she been doing or thinking before/during/after those previous reads? The gap in the narrative implies a suppression of those events, and because this is from her narrative voice, she decides what we get to see and what we do not get to see. 

      Instead of retelling letters to us through a character’s voice (such as on pp. 60 – 61 or pp. 26), when they are reproduced in novels they are thrust at the readers as a whole to interpret and digest as we will on our own. It is as though this is some information we need and should know, but it is not something our narrator Anna wants to tell us, explain, or analyze. 

      When Anna is particularly pressed, she deviates from the normative mode of writing to Walter, such as on pp. 95 when she sends him a telegram. This first usage of the telegram in a novel where letter correspondences largely govern character interactions helps to make the readers notice the sense of urgency underlying such a message. The very form itself conveys to its recipient the need for an immediate reply. It is short, direct, and to the point. It aims for a specific goal and expects a certain result in return. It is a step above sending a letter by messenger in its swiftness of delivery, and urgency of intention. By physically placing this telegram within the narrative instead of simply referencing it, the differences in form between letter-writing and telegram-constructing is emphasized because readers are able to compare it to other reproduced written correspondences throughout the text. 

      And so, there are many ways in which we can interpret even the instances where letters are inserted in their ‘original context’ within these works. It is of course not really an original context because these written correspondences between individuals are constructed and fictional, despite the more realistic presentation through the italicized form. These letter-insertions are doing more than building the world of the novel, however: they can allow mute characters to communicate, traumatized characters to communicate pertinent information to readers, and comparisons to be made through different forms of the structure of various written correspondences. 

III. The Implied Blank Spaces 

      In this section, I will discuss the instances in which letters are referenced or clearly written by/between key characters, but they are not physically represented in the text nor quoted by the characters mentioning them. There seems to be two ways in which the absence of letters is working: either the content conveyed in the letter is so mundane and straightforward that it is not worth including in its ‘original format’, or the act of withholding such letters could indicate either character suppression of trauma or the narrative itself saving the reveal of similar information for a later point. With the first reason why letters may be absent from the text, the reference to said letter already accomplishes the communication of the information which interjecting the letter itself amongst the text would perform just as well. With the second reason for keeping letters from the text, however, there seems to be an active role enacted by either the narrative or characters themselves where the withholder wishes to avoid more telling information either temporarily or indefinitely. 

      Firstly, written correspondences can be left out of the novel because simply referencing to 

them or mentioning their existence is completing the work that inserting these words would also accomplish. And yet, they must be mentioned here because they are still working as instances of letter-writing in these novels in significant ways. With writers such as Jean Rhys who obsess over word choice and are celebrated for their brevity, including letters that do not need to be included could take away from the overall intentional tone or message of these works of literature. And in projects such as Andrea Levy’s Small Island where character viewpoints are so essential to reflecting upon the events and themes of the work, including written correspondences which do not contribute to a particular character’s perspectives deters from the intentions of the work as a whole. 

      For instance, on pp. 232 of Small Island, Queenie writes instructions for bombed out citizens because they cannot hear or understand her when she tries to convey the same information through dialogue. Queenie uses words to guide them through the city in order to acquire what they need when the spoken word fails them, but because we just finish reading the dialogue through which she first tries to convey that information, it would be redundant for the novel to include the same words in letter format as well directly afterwards. These bombed out citizens require written instructions to guide them through a city that in many ways seems no longer their own. Written words give them understanding here where dialogue fails. 

      And as Queenie continues working with the community center, on pp. 233 we see Queenie directing others to fill out forms in order to prove where they used to live and what they lost due to the war. Forms are used here to replace possessions lost in response to a need to prove one’s existence as a citizen of London deserving compensation. This is also so the state can keep tabs on survivor whereabouts for relocation purposes as it begins to reestablish its role as a governing body over the people. When homes and infrastructure are blown away, society is reduced to written certificates of belonging. This hardship can resonate with individuals such as Jean Valjean in Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables or black American freedmen requiring passports within their own country. The papers here in Small Island are serving similar functions of proving the citizens’ identities as citizens during times of traumatic turmoil, and reproducing those forms would add little to this idea and may in fact distract readers from the main narrative. 

      When forms are ignored or uncompleted, however, citizens’ claims cannot be believed by the larger governmental system. On pp. 234 of Small Island, a family in need of furniture request Queenie’s assistance, but she cannot give it to them because the PC54 form had not been filled out in time for processing. Here, the written word has to work within a pre-established system and abide by certain rules in order to be officially recognized by said system. The government dynamics become characters in these instances who dominate relations between human characters such as Queenie and the homeless. Communication through written correspondences has an expiration date when people are attempting to acquire something from a governmental system in return for their words. One cannot validate one’s own experience unless expressed in a constructed language and within a set timeframe. Words here only become meaningful and long lasting if written according to a temporal deadline, and in addition to its inclusion being unnecessary, the absence of the PC54 form can reflect the failure to complete said form. 

      In addition, the letters of recommendation Hortense provides for the London education system on pp. 376 of Small Island are also kept from the readers. These letters of recommendation are judged to be insufficient qualifications in order to teach in the UK by the woman Hortense speaks to. So when “she told me [Hortense], ‘Well, I’m afraid you can’t teach here,’ and passed the unopened letters back” (pp. 375), it is fitting that we do not get the letters reproduced for us. Hortense is denied acceptance by these Englishwomen, and we are denied the ability to read these letters by the novel. 

      Although written words are more permanent than those that are spoken, they only hold respective weight if their reader grants them such. Hortense’s letters of recommendation are not even worth reading to Englishwomen because they come from Jamaica. Even if written by other Englishwomen, they are apparently not recognized by the legalities of the London educational system, thus allowing these women to take advantage of such technicalities as an excuse to make fun of the Jamaican Hortense’s attempts. This instance is somewhat like in Voyage in the Dark when Anna chooses not to keep Vincent’s letter. By dismissing it, she is communicating to Vincent that it is not important to her feelings, even if readers already know it is important to the narrative plot. Anna is using the social conventions of typically keeping letters given to convey her dislike of Vincent’s character. Written correspondences must be important enough to be inserted amongst the narrative, and so the absence of certain correspondences is indicative of characters rejecting and belittling those writings. 

       When Anna rejects Vincent’s letter, she professes it unimportant; similarly on pp. 10 when Maudie and Anna see if there are any letters waiting for them at the theatre but there are none, the narrative is communicating to the readers that they are not yet important enough to receive letters. It is significant that this is the first mention of letters in Voyage in the Dark, and it is before either Maudie or Anna have romantic male companions. It suggests that there are no letters for Maudie or Anna yet at the theater because they are not yet associated with men.  If they want to be recognized by and as Londoners, they are going to have to go out and take that recognition through developing relationships with well-off pre-established male Londoners. In the gender dynamics of this novel, a young woman cannot “get on” without catching the attention of accomplished men. Here, the novel cannot reproduce letters for readers because there are no letters yet to be found, and the absence of letters thus far reflects the main characters’ lack of status. Not only must letters be important enough to be included in the narrative, but also individuals must be important enough to receive letters. 

      Secondly, written correspondences can be left out of the narrative when the narration itself is purposefully withholding information those correspondences would give away if included. Because readers, at least upon first read of the material, are experiencing these letters as the perspective characters are revealing them to us, important letters cannot be reproduced if the characters do not deem them important at the time they are referenced. As a consequence, reading these letters would reveal imperative information that would be inconsistent with the style of both Small Island and Voyage in the Dark where we are only allowed into these worlds through particular character perspectives. 

      For instance, when Gilbert writes to Hortense regularly from London towards the beginning of Small Island, being denied those letters allows us to grow with these respective characters. By simply mentioning these correspondences, the narrative establishes the development of Gilbert and Hortense’s budding relationship and Gilbert’s honorability and loyalty to that relationship. However, there is something else that these letters convey, specifically because Gilbert writes them. Because these letters discuss Gilbert’s progress in London, by reading them they may be repeating events we will experience later on through Gilbert’s closer prose narration perspective, and by experiencing those events as Gilbert tells them to us specifically we will be closer to him because he reveals emotions and fears about what it is truly like to immigrate to London as a Jamaican man than he would have admitted to Hortense. 

      In addition, the more Gilbert is allowed to construct a narrative to events or ideas, such as when describing the bee incident with his cousin or when confronting Bernard, the more his audiences tend to perceive his sincerity and intelligence. And because Gilbert’s writing style might reveal such intelligence, their absence enables us to realize gradually with Hortense over time what potential he has. Gilbert demonstrates his admirable character again on pp. 178 when he sends Quennie letters after Arthur’s death. Gilbert writes Queenie to try and create that apologizing communication denied them when they had been separated by the mob. Keeping these letters from us aids our understanding of the growth of Gilbert and Hortense’s relationship as well as Gilbert’s growth as a character. 

      Thirdly, when written correspondences are withheld from the narrative, this can also be indicative of when characters are suppressing the content of those correspondences. When we are only allowed entrance into the worlds of these novels through character perspectives, we can only be certain of events those characters accurately tell us about. And so when characters choose not to communicate with readers about their stories, we as audiences can only infer what those choices may mean. In some instances, these character choices may be inconsequential, but when analyzing works like Voyage in the Dark and Small Island where letters play such major roles, the missing letters are just as important to character development as the included ones. And so, the absence of letter content when those letters are referenced (and obviously existing in the world of the narrative, but are nonetheless kept from our eyes) in literature, such suppression occurs when characters are either unwilling or unable to communicate with readers through the written narrative form. 

      This is exemplary in Small Island when Bernard tries to write Queenie a letter from India (pp. 330), but after four pages of memories, writer’s block, and sweating (literally), he fails. Before even beginning, he writes off telling the truth. After he begins, he compares himself to his father, but cannot finish and eventually ruins his chance to. He blames the “coolies” watching him, but ultimately he buckles under his own self-judgment and awkwardness. Even from within his own mind (prose) perspective, he cannot break out of his own parentheticals. He is constantly writing and rewriting his own thought processes, and in doing so his actions (or, rather, inactions) convey to readers his inability to accurately express his experiences to his own satisfaction. Bernard’s failure to express himself through the written word reiterates and perhaps even explains his inability to communicate his inner complexities in person through dialogue. 

       Like Bernard, Anna in Voyage in the Dark also drifts when writing a particularly difficult letter to write from her perspective. When she does finally write to Walter for help on pp. 169, Anna detaches herself from the process in order to complete the task at hand. This may seem somewhat like how Bernard in Small Island is unable to write to Queenie properly, but there are also significant differences. Anna’s situation seems more desperate because she needs Walter’s help in order to have an abortion, while Bernard’s release and subsequent transfer from the RAF is already underway. Anna separates herself from the writing process as she carries through with the act, whereas Bernard is so close to the physical presence of the page that he renders it unusable, not sending anything in the end. Nonetheless, Anna’s decision to deny us a peak at the letter she writes here represents her distance or at least desired separation from its content. Perhaps if she tries her best not to think about it, then it does not exist. Like how Queenie tries to suppress her child by dragging heavy furniture around and literally decreasing its physical presence in the world by wrapping herself in tight bandages, Anna suppresses her vulnerability by hiding the words by which she calls for help. It is as though she never reads it before sending it, and so we never get to. Characters suppress letter-writing or letters received when they hide the emotional experience associated with said letters from the readers. 

      Like Irene Adler’s possession of the photograph in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s “A Scandal in Bohemia”, Anna’s possession of the personal letters (mentioned on pp. 174) exchanged between Walter and herself binds him to her so long as she possesses them. Vincent comes to retrieve them, and they are why Walter wants to keep in touch earlier on. At the conclusion of the last correspondence she had with these cousins, in fact, Vincent wrote, “P.S. Have you kept any of the letters Walter wrote you? If so you ought to send them back” (pp. 94). In Voyage in the Dark, Vincent seeks to take away those letters between her and Walter, so that their obligation to Anna herself can be obliterated, so that their relationship can be eliminated from the records of interpersonal discourse and her existence be put behind them. She has no longer anything to give Walter that he wants, and so Anna as a threat must be neutralized. 

       Anna is not, in the end, despite her desires, as permanent in her recorded existence as her idol Maillotte Boyd. Surrendering the letters into Vincent’s care puts the power back under male control. In addition, the very existence of these letters presents readers with evidence of the false hopes and promises Walter gave her during the course of their relationship. These professions of affection are heavier and thus possibly more harmful to Anna’s psyche in the end than readers may have previously realized upon first read. These letters’ absence from previous mentions of Walter & Anna’s relationship may be indicative of remaining trauma Anna’s still dealing with: why else do we not experience those moments with Walter when these letters had been originally exchanged? 

      Finally, and perhaps in retaliation for the way Anna is treated by the men of London, on pp. 175 she professes that Vincent’s letter, unlike Walter’s, were not worth keeping. Anna gives power to the letters she keeps. By not having Vincent’s “break-up letter”, she indicates her disapproval of his character, like when she flat out tells Walter, “I hate Vincent” (pp. 98). His correspondences have less meaning for her because she deems them less important, as though her un-recognition and invalidation of the content they contain would no longer hold any meaning or importance. Keeping the break-up letter would have been in a way agreeing with, by giving truth to what Vincent writes about her and about Walter and about their relationship or lack thereof henceforth. 

      And so, in addition to when they are physically included in literature among the narrative text, written correspondences can have a variety of different interpretations when they are visibly absent from the text as well. They can be removed for practical purposes in order to maximize narrative real estate that nonetheless perform valuable functions within the novels. They can be withheld by the narrative either temporarily or indefinitely in order to help flesh out deeper characterizations of key individuals. 

IV. When We Read What Is Not For Us 

      In both Small Island and Voyage in the Dark, there are instances where letters are included, referenced to, and discussed by and between characters during which the writer of said letter is not present. During these discussions, one character reveals to the perspective character (the character that is narrating the section) the contents of a letter that was not addressed to them but nonetheless the information conveyed within is intended for their understanding. Like overhearing others gossiping about a character behind her back, this technique provides readers with an additional third person perspective outside of the usual narrative voice which lets us know what other characters think of our perspective character’s behavior. 

       For instance, in Small Island Hortense is allowed to read a letter about Michael’s MIA RAF military status (pp. 64 – 65). This letter is addressed to Hortense’s superior because she is deemed more important than Hortense and thus more worthy of receiving written correspondence from someone of their higher class. This is one of the key subtle examples the text gives us that Hortense is looked down upon even from within her own family group because of the origins of her birth. Nonetheless, her supervisor is perhaps more sympathetic to her situation when she recognizes that the information the contents of this letter conveys is meant for Hortense. She is the one that needs to know what could have happened to Michael, because they were so close as children. The formal diction implies the worst has occurred, but Hortense takes it well because any news regarding Michael is welcome news. Written correspondence of any kind about loved ones seems better than no correspondences at all. 

      In Voyage in the Dark, however, Anna is more affected by listening to letters not addressed to her because they more overtly discuss her personally. Hester mentions, for instance, how she has been writing letters to Uncle Bo in the West Indies specifically about Anna (pp. 59). Like Michael Roberts’ MIA notice, Anna has to listen to a letter that was not written to her but is nonetheless necessarily about her and so intended for her to understand. In any case, Hester provides this evidence to support her own opinions regarding Anna’s position, character, and subsequent behavior. 

       Anna is further exposed to experiencing written correspondences that she does not participate in and yet is a part of, when she must listen to Hester repeating Uncle Bo’s reply letter about Anna (pp. 60 – 61). Through Uncle Bo’s written perspective (and if we can trust that Hester is reading the correspondence without her own editions), we get a state of Dominica that is not from Anna’s perspective. It makes Dominica more real because it is not just a figment of Anna’s imagination, but we are building our own interpretations of what the West Indies represent in this novel from multiple character inputs. 

      And so, yes, we get a sense that Dominica is a beautiful place, but there are still more opportunities for Anna “to get on” in London. This helps explain to readers why Anna does not leave England to return to Dominica, even if Anna does not explain it to us herself. Dominica may represent a happier place and time for Anna in Voyage in the Dark, but it is not the same because it can no longer receive the older Anna or larger world’s problems; and we know this through how it is presented in letters that are out of Anna’s control. 

      Furthermore, Uncle Bo’s reference on pp. 61 to Anna’s postcard she sends him from Blackpool allows us to better analyze her relationship with her extended family using evidence outside of her own memories or dream sequences.  This demonstrates Anna’s inability, like Bernard in Small Island, to express the meaningful—or even the more mundane—events that are happening in her life on a daily basis. Since this is a postcard, it is naturally a more public medium and therefore less personal mode of communication. It is not surprising that she would be less revealing in a postcard than she might be in a sealed letter correspondence. 

      But is there truly nothing else that she could have said? Could it have been a cry for help or communication, albeit failed, by the very action of it being sent to Uncle Bo instead of Hester? Is there no meaning beneath the surface of “’This is a very windy place,’ which doesn’t tell us [Uncle Bo and his family] much about how she is getting on” (pp. 61)? Perhaps the very fact that Anna does not mention how she is “getting on” is indicative that she is not getting on. The postcard is a less personal or heartfelt medium, and one that as mentioned before Hester may utilize to punish Anna for her unsatisfactory lifestyle choices. 

      And so, when perspective characters read letters that are not addressed to them specifically but still are related to their existence, those characters and readers both are exposed to additional opinions within the novel regarding that character’s personality, behavior, and lifestyle. In Small Island, Hortense’s family fails to recognize her right to receive a personal letter regarding Michael’s military status by not bothering to send her one, whereas secondary discussions are used as evidence against Anna’s person and actions in Voyage in the Dark. While positive opinions being expressed through secondary correspondences cannot be overruled, in the examples provided here we are provided with negative opinions that otherwise would be unavailable to readers through the usual character perspectives. 

V. Dealing With the Collection 

      The most challenging aspect about this letter-essay is that it is neither an encyclopedia on the examples of written correspondences as represented in literature, nor is it a definitive guideline on how to understand what it means when written correspondences are represented in literature. And yet, this is more than an admission that the study of literary correspondences is a complex field that has only just begun to be delved into. 

      We have looked at how they work physically within these texts, what it can mean when they are absent from the text, and the effect of witnessing information for oneself in a letter secondhand. Within all of these instances, in its base nature, letters are communicating the act of communication through the written word. But there is something in the written word that gives this communication either different meanings or more meaning than if that same information had been expressed either through dialogue or prose. 

      Special Delivery: Epistolary Modes in Modern Fiction mentions in its introduction how, “As a feminist critic, Kauffman insisted that women’s subjectivity is not only the product of language, not only the product of material reality, not only the product of individual will and grit, but of all three” (pp. ix). This mode in which letter-writing and written correspondences in literature can be interpreted underscores the complexity of such a form. The letters are difficult to fully understand because they can mean and be taken to mean a variety of readings of the same text. Kauffman helps us engage with the possibilities of meaning by posing that they can mean all of the various meanings at once. The letters in Small Island and Voyage in the Dark, therefore, cannot be pinned down to a single interpretation, but are working on multiple levels simultaneously. 

      Especially in Voyage in the Dark, however, letter-writing exemplifies the lack of agency women have because of when they are expected to write and what they are expected to write, and how they are denied the possession of letters when having them could be detrimental to men. They also imply the physicality of the world the narrative creates or attempts to imitate in the ways in which they are structured in relation to the surrounding prose narrative of the novel. They also express agency and wit on the part of the letter’s writer in certain instances because there is an inherent foresight, education, and intention that must be put into letters as they are being constructed. Anna expresses agency when she chooses not to write to Walter even though he tells her to after they separate, and then again when she throws away Vincent’s letter, making a point that Walter is more important and thus his words are worth keeping, not Vincent’s. 

      Yes, there are key correspondences between hetero-normative characters of opposite genders, such as when Gilbert sends letters to Queenie apologizing for the events surrounding Arthur’s death or when Bernard is unable to express himself through written words to his wife Queenie back home, but the larger function of letters in Small Island seems to be functional, or at least are included for a lot more reasons than to elaborate upon gender issues. In contrast, the only strictly non-gender specific, or gender inflected, written correspondence in Voyage in the Dark is when Anna receives birthday wishes from a choir girl friend. Even the postcard sent to her Uncle Bo is only referenced within a letter from Uncle Bo to Hester as evidence of Anna’s ineptitude in “getting on” in London, which is expected of her as a young woman at this time period as represented in the world of the novel. 

      In conclusion, as expressed in Postal Plots in British Fiction, 1840 – 1898: Readdressing Correspondence in Victorian Culture, “plot movement, characterization, and the ‘reality effect’ of letters are some of the reasons why novelists created fictional correspondents. These uses explain the literary functions of the letters, and writers continue using letters (and email) for the same purposes into the present” (pp. 1). Letters exist as physical entities within the literary worlds they inhabit, and as they move around and are read by different characters, they cause key plot events to unfold. They bring together characters that otherwise may not have been easily brought together, and the absence of letter-writing (such as when Bernard fails to write Queenie from India or even after first returning to England) where the technology exists drives characters further apart. 

       Authors who convey in their literature that characters are writing to one another, above all else are communicating to readers that these characters are communicating with one another. Unless we are given specific textual cues, it is difficult to tell whether or not characters are truly speaking or listening to one another during dialogue sequences. But there is something about the time, effort, and physical presence of a written correspondence that demands attention. Written correspondences seem to offer a better sense of communication and the ability to communicate one’s thoughts and intentions to an intended recipient. 

      And so, through studying how individuals write and experience writing in Small Island, Voyage in the Dark, other literary and scholarly examples, and between ourselves, we can understand and appreciate communication on a larger scale. The ability to and practice of communicating with one another, after all, is one of the imperative descriptors by which we define ourselves as human. And so by looking to written correspondences in literature, we are looking at how we write to each other in real life, and by extension, we are communicating with ourselves. 

Sincerely, 

Catherine Puma 

P.S. - Read, and write, wisely. 

Bibliography: 

Bannet, Eve Taylor. Empire of Letter: Letter Manuals and Transatlantic Correspondence, 1680 – 

1820. Cambridge University Press, 2005. Print. 

Barton, David, and Nigel Hall (Editors). Letter Writing as a Social Practice. John Benjamins Publishing, 2000. Google eBook. 

Decker, William Merrill. Epistolary Practices: Letter Writing in America Before Telecommunications. University of North Carolina Press, 1998. Print. 

Doyle, Sir Arthur Conan. The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes, Volume I. Barnes & Noble Classics. Print. 

Hugo, Victor, Norman Denny (Translator), and Robert Tombs (Introduction). Les Misérables. Penguin Publishing Group, 2012. Print. 

Kaufman, Linda S., and Catherine R. Stimpson. Special Delivery: Epistolary Modes in Modern Fiction. University of Chicago Press, 1991. ProQuest. Web. 10 Mar. 2015. 

Levy, Andrea. Small Island. Second Picador Edition. Picador, 2010. Print. 

Rhys, Jean. Voyage in the Dark. Norton Paperback Fiction, 1982. Print. 

Rotunno, Laura. Postal Plots in British Fiction, 1840 – 1898: Readdressing Correspondence in Victorian Culture. Palgrave Macmillan, 2013. ProQuest. Web. 10 Mar. 2015.