Correspondence An Adventure in Letters by N. John Hall

I recently rediscovered this book, which I bought in cold blood and at full price after its release in 2011 when it was said to appeal to fans of 84, Charing Cross Road and Victorian fiction.

Discovered my book mark in the middle of the third chapter and I have no idea why I put it back on my shelf for all these years. I love me an good epistolary novel so a re-started from the beginning.

The book imagines a correspondence between a retired American banker, Larry Dickerson, who inherited more than 200 letters to and from his great-great-great grandfather, a London bookseller, and his correspondents, who included Charles Dickens, Anthony Trollope, William Makepeace Thackeray, George Eliot and spouse, Thomas Hardy, Willkie Collins, Mrs. Gaskell, Samuel Butler and Charles Darwin, together with all of his great-great-great grandfather’s letters to these authors.

Dickerson hopes to sell these letters for the highest price through Christie’s auction house. An so begins the correspondence with Stephen Nicholls, head of Christie’s manuscript department. Of course, Christie’s is delighted at the prospect of handling an invaluable collection of never-before-seen letters from some of the greatest writers of the Victorian era.

Dickerson is portrayed as a bright, eager and not uneducated man who spent his career in banking and has a passion for baseball, a world far removed from antiquarian books and scholarly learning. While he could simply ship this letter trove to London, brush his hands of it, and eventually get a fat check, he has intellectual curiosity about these authors and their work, researching the letters himself. It’s fascinating to watch Nicholls, with a deep knowledge of books and manuscripts, take this new student under his wing. Dickerson takes on the challenge with wit and gentle jabs to Nicholl’s very British viewpoints:

Dickerson writes, “If you ever feel impatient with me and my ignorance of things in this field, remember that my old man was one of the troops who knocked out Hitler for you.”

Dickerson insists on carefully reading and hand transcribing the letters before sending them to the auction house. As he is drawn deeper into the letters, he begins reading their authors’ books. The ever-patient Nicholls, explains concepts and phrases Dickerson is discovering — everything from the meaning of “et al”, to some of the authors backstories, and themes common to the famous Victorian works.

As months go by, Nicholls worries about Dickerson’s insistence on handling the valuable stash himself, failing to insure them, and reluctance to send even photocopies. Are the letters real? Is Dickerson on the up and up? This reader began to worry too.

The letters between Dickerson’s great-great-great grandfather (Dickerson abbreviates it to gggf) and the great novelists are delightful realistic. Mr. Hall, the author, is a scholar of Victorian literature (especially Anthony Trollope) and only such an expert could have conceived them and so skillfully replicated the style and language of the various authors – not to mention making them sound distinctive and authentic to the period. There are lively discussions about choosing illustrators and using illustrations in their novels (Dickens loved them; Trollope hated them) as well as their reactions to good and bad reviews – just as any writer today. I found myself chuckling at Trollope’s irony and Thomas Hardy’s dry wit.

There is a quick and surprising ending which I won’t reveal the details. Just suffice it to say that everyone benefits from the letters and their eventual sale.

Turns out Correspondence was just my cup of geeky, bookish tea. However, this book won’t likely appeal to most of you – it is very much a bookish-bookerly book. Mr. Hall has peppered the novel with many, many literary references, which had me turning to my bookshelves to pull out my own grandfather’s copies to check the illustrations, quotes, and characters.

I have come away re-energized to try Trollope again (I found him unbearable in my first attempt) and I have vowed to finally read Thackeray’s Vanity Fair.

It’s okay, carry on with choosing another read for yourselves — I understand, but very few understand me…