Jessica Brockmole - Letters from Skye

Urbana, Illinois, U.S.A.

March 5, 1912

Dear Madam,

I hope you wont think me forward, but I wanted to write to express my admiration for your book, From an Eagles Aerie. Ill admit, Im not usually a guy for poetry. More often, I can be found with a dog-eared copy of Huck Finn or something else involving mortal peril and escape. But something in your poems touched me more than anything has in years.

Ive been in the hospital, and your little book cheered me better than the nurses. Especially the nurse with the mustache like my uncle Phils. Shes also touched me more than anything has in years, though in a much less exciting way. Generally Im pestering the doctors to let me up and about so I can go back to my plotting. Just last week I painted the deans horse blue, and I had hoped to bestow the same on his terrier. But with your book in hand, Im content to stay as long as they keep bringing the orange Jell-O.

Most of your poems are about tramping down lifes fears and climbing that next peak. As you can probably guess, there are few things that shake my nerves (apart from my hirsute nurse and her persistent thermometer). But writing a letter, uninvited, to a published author such as yourselfthis feels by far my most daring act.

I am sending this letter to your publisher in London and will cross my fingers that it finds its way to you. And if I can ever repay you for your inspiring poetryby painting a horse, for exampleyou only have to say the word.

Isle of Skye

25 March 1912

Dear Mr. Graham,

You should have seen the stir in our tiny post office, everyone gathered to watch me read my first letter from a fan, as you Americans would say. I think the poor souls thought no one outside our island had ever laid eyes on my poetry. I dont know which was more thrilling to themthat someone had indeed read one of my books or that the someone was an American. Youre all outlaws and cowboys, arent you?

I myself admit to some surprise that my humble little works have fled as far as America. From an Eagles Aerie is one of my more recent books, and I wouldnt have thought it had time to wing across the ocean yet. However youve acquired it, Im just glad to know Im not the only one whos read the blasted thing.

Urbana, Illinois, U.S.A.

April 10, 1912

Dear Miss Dunn,

I dont know which made me giddierto hear that From an Eagles Aerie was among your most recent books or to get a response at all from such an esteemed poet. Surely youre too busy counting meter or compiling a list of scintillating synonyms (brilliant, sparkling, dazzling synonyms). Me, I spend my days robbing banks with the James Gang and the other outlaws and cowboys.

I was sent your book by a friend of mine who is up at Oxford. To my shock and dismay, I have not seen your works in print here in the United States. Even a thorough search of my university library turned up nothing. Now that I know you have others lurking on the bookstore shelves, I will have to appeal to my pal to send more.

I was astonished to read that mine was your first fan letter. I was sure it would be just one in a stack, which is why I went to such pains to make it fascinating and witty. Perhaps other readers havent been as bold (or perhaps as impulsive?) as I.

P.S. Wherever is the Isle of Skye?

Isle of Skye

1 May 1912

Mr. Graham,

You dont know where my lovely isle is? Ridiculous! That would be like me saying Ive never heard of Urbana, Illinois.

My isle is off the northwest coast of Scotland. A wild, pagan, green place of such beauty that I couldnt imagine being anywhere else. Enclosed is a picture of Peinchorran, where I live, with my cottage nestled between the hills around the loch. Ill have you know that, in order to draw this for you, I had to hike around the loch, trudge up the sheep path on the opposite hill, and find a patch of grass not covered by heather or sheep excreta. Ill expect you to do likewise when you send me a picture of Urbana, Illinois.

Do you lecture in Urbana? Study? Im afraid I dont know what it is that Americans do at university.

P.S. By the way, its Mrs. Dunn.

Urbana, Illinois, U.S.A.

June 17, 1912

Dear Mrs. Dunn (please excuse my presumption!),

You draw as well as write such magnificent poetry? The picture you sent is sublime. Is there nothing you cant do?

As I cant draw worth a dime, Im sending a few picture postcards instead. One is the auditorium at the university; the second is the tower on the library building. Not bad, huh? Illinois is probably as different from the Isle of Skye as a place could be. Not a mountain in sight. Once I leave campus, just corn as far as the eye can see.

I suppose I do what any collegiate American does: study, eat too much pie, torment the dean and his horse. Im finishing up my studies in natural sciences. My father hopes Ill enter medical school and join him in his practice one day. Im not as certain about my future as he seems to be. For now, Im just trying to make it through my last year of college with my sanity intact!

Isle of Skye

11 July 1912

Mr. Graham,

Is there nothing you cant do? you ask. Well, I cant dance. Or tan leather. Or make barrels or shoot a harpoon. And Im not particularly good at cooking. Can you believe I burned soup the other day? But I can sing fairly well, shoot a straight shot from a rifle, play the cornet (cant we all?), and Im something of an amateur geologist. And, although I couldnt cook a decent roast lamb if my life depended on it, I make a marvellous Christmas pudding.

Forgive my frankness, but why devote all of your time (and sanity) towards an area of study that doesnt grip your very soul? If I had had a chance to go to university, I wouldnt have spent even a moment on a subject that didnt interest me.

I should love to think I wouldve spent my university days reading poetry, as theres no better way to pass the time, but after so many years masquerading as a real poet, there likely isnt much a professor could teach me now.

No, as unladylike as it sounds, I would have studied geology. My older brother Finlay is always out on the water and brings me rocks smooth from the ocean. I cant help but wonder where they came from and how they washed up on the Western Isles.

There, now you know my secret wishes! I shall have to take your firstborn child in exchange. Or I suppose I could settle for a secret of your own. If you werent studying natural science, what would you be studying? What do you wish you could be doing with your life above all?

Urbana, Illinois, U.S.A.

August 12, 1912

Dear Rumpelstiltskin,

If you teach me to play the cornet, Ill teach you to dance!

I dont think there is anything unladylike about geology. Why is it that you never escaped your isle for college? If I had lived in a more geologically interesting place than central Illinois, I might have considered a similar field. Id always hoped to study American literatureTwain, Irving, and the likebut my father refused to pay for me to spend four years reading stories.

But what I wish to do above all? Thats an easy question, but the answer is not one Im willing to admit. Im afraid youll have to accept my firstborn child after all.

Isle of Skye

1 September 1912

Mr. Graham,

Well, now my interest is piqued! What is it that you always longed to be as a wee boy? A naval captain? A circus acrobat? A traveling perfume salesman? You must, must tell, or I shall form speculations of my own. I am a poet, after all, and I live amidst people who believe in fairies and ghosts. My imagination is quite fertile.