I am currently reading John Adams by David McCullough and though I’m only 25 pages in, it’s proving to be the interesting read I had hoped it would be. It’s amazing to me how much information can be gathered by historians from such innocuous sources.
The strong clarity of her handwriting, the unhesitating flow of her pen across the paper, line after line, seemed at odds with her circumstances. Rarely was a word crossed out or changed. It was as if she knew exactly what was in her heart and how she wished to express it–as if the very act of writing, of forming letters, in her distinctive angular fashion, keeping every line straight, would somehow help maintain her balance, validate her own being in such times.
As a quasi-historian myself, it makes me curious what might be said about my handwriting, my letters. What am I unconsciously putting out there in the world for history to find?