There are books one reads slowly for they lack substance. And then there are books that merely require a little more savoring and contemplation. “Love Letters of Great Men” (goodreads), put together by Ursula Doyle, is the latter type. And it’s just that. Love letters
Somehow I expected both less and more out of it. At first all I saw were banal words, overused comparisons, funny little rants, obvious inability to express one self. And then it dawned upon me – half these men were probably exactly that – unable to express the chaotic feeling they had inside, the terrible greatness of it all. Some of them were writers and still it sounded pompous and full of airs, with an exception of Oscar Wilde. His letter had a proper whiff of an author about it and was probably the most dangerous one to write. But then we have Darwin as well, and how can one say he wrote poorly when he didn’t? And if he did, well, who could write better?
I truly don’t know how to rate this. In the end, they’re just letters. Personal and meant for one pair of eyes, no more. Someone who, as they expected, wouldn’t judge. Thus, I decided I won’t judge either and give it a fair 5 out of 5. It’s worth reading, especially to those who still have old-fashioned romanticism in their hearts.