Love Letters

I signed up for the Love Letters from The Times, which is a promotion for a new book. I’ve enjoyed them up until now, but my favorite so far has been Margret Atwood’s letter:

But I'm not turning down as many applicants as I'd like, these days. My stock in trade has always been the graceful and effective manipulation of the written word, directed towards a desired end - copulation at midnight, long-drawn-out sweet'n'sour flirtation, full-throttle white satin wedding bells - but grace seems to be flying out the window. Now a young man can text-message his target on her cellphone - I WON 2 FKU - and she might actually turn up at the video arcade and go through with it. The decline of modesty has not been a plus, from my point of view. It's bad for trade.

Once there was a heavy demand for well-turned sonnets - Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, that sort of thing - or even for lighter verse - Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, and so forth. It showed a girl - however erroneously - that a man or woman had more on his or her mind than her or his body. Now it's just URAHOTTEE. Where's the art in that?

I’m not sure yet whether I’m still as excited about the book from the other two letters, but if there are more like the above coming this in my in box on Thursday and Friday I’m sold.