Letters from the Closet
Ten Years of Correspondence That Changed My Life
As the years and letters passed between John and Amy, the layers fell off as they explored and unmasked themselves and each other. “A teacher is like a book,” John wrote, “wasted until he’s read. The student has to do that. You’ve done that.” While going through a period of despair, he wrote, “I hope our relationship survives your growing up and my growing down.”
Every writer needs a room of his own, but for some people, at certain times and in certain circumstances, the best you can do is a closet. From the confines—and protection—of his closet, John wrote these letters, letters that were read, cherished, and then locked away for decades in Amy’s closet. Now they are chronicled and shared for your enrichment.
A Different Kind of Love Story
Timely and relevant, this is a love story of the most contemporary kind. It’s a rare and beautiful glimpse into an intimate, but platonic, relationship between a gay English teacher and his young female protégée—each seeking connection and acceptance.
Now the student-turned-author looks back at the decade of letters that preceded her teacher’s untimely death. She collects the shards left by their clumsy, sometimes violent, attempts to unmask each other and counts the cost of knowing and being known.
Alternating between letter excerpts and a beautiful narrative from Amy, the story unfolds, making readers privy to a very personal tribute to the teacher who profoundly changed her life. As you enter their unveiled world, you’ll see truth reflected in their raw insights—and you’ll discover new revelations for your own life.
Read an Excerpt
Boy Meets Girl
I destroyed every page of my college journals. There were eight journals in all, two for each year, every empty space within swallowed up by my perfect Catholic school script: a chronicle of my life as a coed. I wasn’t getting rid of evidence exactly (although there was much to incriminate me), but I was starting over, and this was proof I wasn’t that person anymore. I can’t remember if I burned all the pages or simply tore them to shreds to... see more