Emily Cockayne’s history focuses on anonymous letters written between 17. They have much to reveal about the preoccupations that lay behind the behaviour of their authors and recipients. But some letters have been preserved – either by chance, or because they became a matter of public interest, or evidence in a criminal trial. Perhaps they have been more widespread than we suppose, and their effects more pervasive. Most recipients just want to get rid of them, as I did. Poison pen letters have a long history, and much of it will never be known. But perpetrators are difficult to identify, and successful prosecutions are rare. The Malicious Communications Act (1988) makes it illegal in England and Wales to ‘send or deliver letters or other articles for the purpose of causing distress or anxiety’. Like their numberless digital counterparts, assaults on paper are a criminal offence. Such attacks may have serious consequences, and this is formally recognised. Whatever the medium, the corrosive sense of disquiet generated by the knowledge that you have unknown enemies lurking in the shadows hasn’t changed. You can reply to an email if you choose, or entangle yourself in a Twitterstorm. Yet abusive letters haven’t altogether gone away, and receiving one now might feel even more uncomfortable. Sending venom through the post, rather than using email or social media, today appears an old-fashioned gesture.
AMAZON UK LONG FORGOTTEN FIELDS WINDOWS
Who had written it? How had they found my address? Why me? Was worse to follow? Nothing else happened, but for a long time I was careful about locking doors and windows at night, and faintly uneasy when out walking alone.
As no threats were involved and the allegations were evidently crazy, I put it straight in the bin and tried to forget about it. It was a rambling affair in uneven capitals, accusing me of all sorts of lurid wickedness. , a poison pen letter dropped onto my doormat.
0 kommentar(er)
