I was deeply honored this month to receive a message from the legendary jazz writer, editor, archivist, and producer Dan Morgenstern, who offered his kind praise for this publication. (His letter may be read here.) In it, however, he says, “You have no Letters to the Editor, which I, as a very old member of the tribe, consider a mistake—it’s a very good way to encourage your readers to express their opinion and it can lead to interesting connections and corrections. And it can cause lively exchanges.”
I sense that others share that assessment. I decided to consider the point here, where I could offer a fuller explanation of (or apology for) my editorial idiosyncrasies. Before doing so, I must assert that I love getting letters even if it turns out that I am the World’s Worst Correspondent. I approach each potential personal response as if I am about to begin an oil painting. It might, in fact, take me an hour to write a brief email response. I am in mortal fear of blurting something unfortunate—because it is so natural for me to do so. If I have Tourette’s Syndrome (and I strongly suspect I do), it’s creeping into my fingers.
I’ve blurted my whole life and when I was a kid I got punished for it. And yet, in speech or writing, when I’ve taken off the emergency brake it’s been a load of fun. I’d love to stand on a cliff and hurl scurrilous invective at a mounta
