‘Mud and Laughter, and Letters’: A Look at Letters 7 and 8 of Volume 6

By Arwyn Clayton and Elodie Edwards

Edited by Naomi Adam

With the release of The Letters Page Volume 6, we thought it would be apt to do a deep dive into the letters we’ve chosen and what you can expect from this volume. 

After Volume 5 (which is still available for purchase), The Letters Page decided to return to our roots. There was no particular theme for this volume, just an open call for letters from everyone and everywhere. However, in choosing from the many wonderful and interesting submissions we received, some themes certainly emerged. The letters we ended up choosing connected themselves together serendipitously, creating a clear weaving pathway for the volume to follow. 

In this series, we will be going through the letters of Volume 6, two at a time, discussing them and how they all link together. 

The two letters that complete our collection are from Lauren White and Tabby Chick. We paired these letters for their similar discussions of connection with nature as an escape from the tedium of modern life. Both letters bloom with natural imagery and a celebration of the simple pleasures of existence. When read alongside some of our other contributions, they have a comparatively hopeful tone – a message we wanted the reader to take away from the collection. 

In her contribution ‘Dear Hiring Manager’, Lauren White pens the liberating refusal of a menial job that everyone has dreamed of writing. It’s a ubiquitous feeling, the dread of being about to enter a job you’re certain of hating in a month’s time. Lauren White articulates this frustration by depicting with a tone of wistful yearning a different way of life, one that deepens her connection with the natural world and to her own interests and desires.                      

She romanticises the simplicity of gratification in a life dedicated to personal contentment in ‘a fulfilling, rather than a selfish way’, as she words it. The reader is left riveted by the life-altering ‘secret’ that frees the writer to separate herself from monotonous daily life and escape into the daydream of birdsong and sunlight that she chooses over a job. Lauren White’s letter serves as a call to all to reassess their priorities and to live more purposefully in the time that they have.  

Likewise, Tabby Chick turns to nature for answers and the space to ruminate in ‘A Strange Patch’. She becomes entranced by the non-linear flow of a river, feels a sense of oneness with the mud-stains on her ankle, and is able to release unanswerable questions and senseless blame into the natural world’s immensity. Hers is a letter of gratitude to the unalterable serenity of nature, exhibiting the reliance and draw to the uncultivated, uncontrolled freedom that is ever more rare and valuable in opposition to the modern world.                  

At the same time, there is a sense of guilt surrounding her reliance on a ‘digital lens’ to fully appreciate the wonders around her; like Lauren she is interested in the tension between the pastoral and modern technology and is ashamed that she mistrusts her senses. Even so, the letter has a reassuring tone, concluding with the hope that she is not alone in her titular ‘strange patch’, and may perhaps find clarity as she wades through it.

Both writers find themselves adrift in the world at present, its digitalised capitalist state that draws people apart from each other and themselves, and both turn to nature to heal this rift, gluing themselves gradually back together with mud and laughter, and letters. In the ambiguous addresses and closings of both letters, there is a sense of connection between the writer of the letter and every reader who finds their way to it, an openness that welcomes all, and promises ‘love, as always’ no matter who they are. 

If this rings true for you, or you find yourself longing for escape from modernity, we urge you to purchase a copy of Volume 6 and read the full version. There are so many intriguing themes across the entries, and these last letters are truly brought into perspective after the set of musings on conflict and nostalgia which precede them.    

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The Letters Page will be closed for submissions until late 2027, and won’t be in the office. But if you write to us your letters will certainly be kept safe and find their way to us eventually. It would, as always, be great to hear from you. 

The Letters Page, School of English, University of Nottingham, NG7 2RD, UK