I’m not sure, no matter how long or hard I search, that I will ever find a more perfect letter writer than Sylvia Townsend Warner. I was half convinced of this after finishing The Element of Lavishness, a collection of letters back and forth between her and William Maxwell, but now, part way through Letters of Sylvia Townsend Warner (edited by William Maxwell), I am convinced.
It’s not just her eloquence and style – she has an abundance of both – but her ability to transform the mundane into something both beautiful and memorable. Her imagination never flags and she uses it to elevate small moments – a passage in a book she is reading, an encounter with a friend, a memory of her travels – into amazingly vivid scenes that would not be amiss in a novel. What a delight it must have been to be one of her (many) correspondents.
I’m still near the beginning of the book but am enjoying it so much that I had to share my enthusiasm – and a few passages – right away.
Showing off her humourous side (on arriving back in England, having been in America when war broke out):
…Just when we were in port, and sitting waiting for the immigration officers to come and give us landing tickets, all of us sitting in glum patient rows in the saloon, the most terrible thing occurred. For a fulsome voice with a strong Irish accent upraised itself in our midst and began to intone Land of Hope and Glory. For a moment it was remarkably like being torpedoed. And people who had looked perfectly brave and sedate during the voyage suddenly turned pale, and looked round for escape. There was of course no escape. The singing came from a large fur-coated white-haired lady surrounded (rather like Britannia) with a quantity of parcels. And she sang all through that embarrassing stanza. Then she paused, and looked round challengingly. We all pretended we had heard nothing unusual, nothing, in fact, at all. (12 October 1939)
Longing for southern climes during the first, brutally cold winter of the war:
I feel sometimes that my eyes will give out, perish, if they don’t rest on a Latin outline. I would like to sit on a hot stone wall, smothered in dust and breathing up the smell of those flat-faced roses that grow along the edge of Latin roads, or perhaps the rich harmonious stink of a heap of rotting oranges thrown in the ditch; and look at oxen, and small dark men with alert limbs and lazy movements, such as cats combine. And I would like to sit outside a café of atrocious architecture, drinking a pernod, and looking across at some Jesuit great-grandmother of a church that I shan’t go into. And I would like to touch small hard dry hands like lizards, and hear people saying Tss, Tss, when a handsome girl goes by. And see small proud boys making water against notices that say they’re not to. And awful dogs of no known breed being addressed as Jewel; or alternatively as Bastard and Sexual Pervert. (16 February 1940)
Marvelling at Queen Victoria:
I have been re-reading that extraordinary woman’s Diary of Our Life in the Highlands. Really…she and her Albert were an amazing pair. They would go off, down an unknown road in the Highlands, in a strange pony-chaise, all by themselves, ford torrents, scramble up mountains, gather ferns and cairngorms and I should think all probability inaugurate some more heirs to the throne under a pine-wood or on the edge of a precipice, without a care of a scruple. And with their faces still quite filthy, tufts of heather sticking to their clothing, a most unsuitable freedom still gipsyfying their countenances, they would return to be an example of wedded decorum to all the courts and homes of Europe. (7 December 1933)
The Captive Reader 
Well you haven’t met me, I’m quite a good writer. Hahaha.
Anyways this was great and I’ve read a few of her letters a friend of mine once sent me. I really enjoyed them. Let us know when you are done.
You can be certain I’ll be posting about this once I’ve finished the book – possibly even before then!
I’m not a great reader of letters as I’d always rather be reading a novel, but your quotations are great. The third one really made me chuckle — love the picture of V & A inaugurating some more heirs under a pinewood or on the edge of a precipice — priceless (and quite likely too).
I had a little chuckle when I read your comment, Harriet. The irony of the non-fiction editor of SNB admitting a preference for novels! If you ever feel tempted away from fiction, these letters are the perfect place to start. Warner is so poetic and articulate in all her writing.
Claire, this sounds wonderful, it is being added to my list. I especially love her Latin passage – that is how I feel about Sicily by cannot express it nearly as well as she does. I haven’t read a volume of letters in ages, but I do love letter collections by artist’s and writers. It’s great when you love a book so much you feel compelled to write about in before you finish it. BTW, I see that you are from Vancouver – we hope to vacation near there soon, that is a city I would love to see.
If you love letter collections by writers then I’m sure you’d love this! Not only is Warner a brilliant writer herself but she is also in touch with other gifted writers and their letters appear here too. There are also other books devoted entirely to her correspondence with other writers (David Garnett and William Maxwell).
Vancouver is a fabulous city (I’m a little biased) and I hope you do make it here soon!
I shall never, ever be able to view Victoria (and Albert) in the same light again – the image of them indulging their passion in the wilds of Scotland will intrude on anything else I ever read about them!
Striking thought, isn’t it? That’s why I love STW so much.
Sounds wonderful.
It is!
Yes, yes, yes! I’ve not read this collection straight through, but have read quite a few letters in it. There’s this collection http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/0951941038/ref=wl_it_dp_o_pC_nS_ttl?_encoding=UTF8&colid=3HK8EL4DJNLWZ&coliid=I13GHRYZ5AYBBB that I’ve been toying with buying, but only 43pp in it…
And you know how much I love The Element of Lavishness, of course!
I’ve come to the conclusion that I basically just want to read every letter STW ever wrote. If there was a collection of her letters to her Cockney charwoman, I would buy that so quickly your head would spin. It does make me despair of my letter writing skills though…
I have The Element of Lavishness on my to-read list from whenever you posted about it on your blog. These excerpts that you posted above are awesome! Her style reminds me some of Peter Fleming’s – especially in their ability to capture a scene. They both wrote in the same era – must be a certain vintage of wit that I like.
[…] Maxwell. It remains one of my favourite books and encouraged me a few years later to pick up a collection of her letters (this time edited by Maxwell) that was almost equally delightful. Through these letters I met a […]