Other People’s letters and Another Question
Is it ever acceptable to read other people’s personal letters? ( This isn’t Question Three in my Virtual Treasure Hunt, you’ll find that further down the page.) I’ll get back to those letters in a minute or two.
Meanwhile, I want to mention that more correct answers to my Virtual Treasure Hunt are still arriving in my in-box, and it’s not too late to join in. For those of you who haven’t yet entered the TREASURE HUNT, you’ll find Question Two here
You’ll find the THIRD QUESTION below, and I’ll be posting a few more over the next couple of weeks. The first five people to contact me with all the correct answers will receive a free copy of either Paper Lanterns or The Dangerous Sports Euthanasia Society.
It’s exactly a year since I posted this picture of a Greek Island – If you didn’t read that post, you’d probably wonder what possible connection there could be between a course on Novel Writing in that idyllic setting and the terrible Foot and Mouth outbreak of 2001. (There’s more than one HINT in this paragraph that will lead you to the answer to this question – via a link to another post)
QUESTION THREE:
What was the last line of the poem which won me a cheque for £100?
As for other people’s letters, I wouldn’t dream of reading something personal that wasn’t meant for me. However, when the letters were written nearly one hundred years ago, it’s a different matter. Though, as I explained in an earlier post, it is still a very strange and moving experience.
Here is one that was written in 1916 by a young Chinese woman. You’ll need to read Paper Lanterns to see how I’ve woven this into the novel, which is set mainly in Hong Kong.
“Dear Sir
When I saw you, my love began. Many thanks for your kind treatments to me, therefore I was able to get more to you and as I found you were really love me therefore I greatly pleased allowed you to have my room prepared for you. I hate that it (mean heavens) could not give us a favour of a long time for you to stay here, and so each now is on his way.
If I could I would cut the big mountain down and make the rivers as dry level lands in order to see you easily even in a far distance and to come quickly to you. But these are all in vain.
If I try to remember the words you were talking to me, my heart suffers a great deal. (Chinese words really means my stomach breaks).
I cry to say I was not born in a rich family and therefore I am obliged to live on such business.
Oh, heaven! If there is any one who can pick me up from such dark valley, my world is once again bright.
Herewith I enclose my photo as a remembrance and hope you will let me know when you have got it.
I should be much pleased by an answer and don’t let me suffer more.
Shing Mui”
