I used to write 2, 3, and 4 page letters in complete and descriptive sentences to friends, family, and at least a couple of paragraphs to colleagues. Now I dash off 40 2-line emails a day, and sometimes just 2- or 3-word text messages to friends. As I read
The Leonard Bernstein Letters, a collection of correspondence to and from the maverick conductor, composer, and music proselytizer from 1932 to 1990 edited by Nigel Simeone (Yale University Press, 2013), I wondered if the world had become a poorer place for the death of the letter, or, and perhaps this is even more import,
will it be poorer when we try to reassemble the details of the working life, the creative process, or the origin of relationships of our great creators, thinkers, or leaders? It's not the platform that I see as impoverished, goodness knows that I am an enthusiastic used of digital media. The loss I fear stems more from the way we
use those platforms for correspondence. It is a loss of the depth with which the writer engaged in the scene, the effort taken to convey ideas, the level of intimacy expressed and sought, that were part of the tradition of letter writing. Perhaps it's the art of letter writing that I mourn. Even the physical acts performed: handwriting or typing, the folding of the paper, the addressing of the envelope - communicated intention. Digital correspondence is stripped of the collateral communicative contents of those acts. As I enjoyed the richness of Bernstein's working and personal relationships, I saw my understanding of the man, his process, and his collaborations grew. Sure email saves time, but in
not taking that time something is also lost.