Dear Literature,


Lately we've noticed that you haven't been yourself. You seem...well, how do I put this? A bit stressed, rushed, tired, faltering. Despite our experience, extensive vocabulary, and study of you, we can't find adequate phrases to capture how you appear to us now. All we know certainly is how wonderful you once were. We recall how beautiful you sounded, how you spoke to us personally, educated our minds, nourished our desires. We remember when you were respected, when you were the primary and not simply a pastime. We remember you as you flowed from the minds of Morrison, Capote, Rand, and Walker onto pages and into our consciousness.


Literature, we don't mean to debase you (as if that is possible after the recent monolithic, degrading presentation of you), but we want the old you back. No, we retract that. We want the spirit of you to propel us, to inspire us to be original, to create new words that resonate in classrooms, on street corners, in the minds of our children. You may be ailing but Literature, we have not given up on you. We are revolutionizing and writing nd conjuring and keeping you alive because we need you. We love you! Literature, we hope you get well soon.


Neo Literati Press