This is the writer's voice, new fiction from the New Yorker. I'm Deborah Treisman,

fiction at the New Yorker. On this episode of the writer's voice we'll hear George

Saunders read his story Love Letter from the April 6th 2020 issue of the magazine.

Saunders won the man Booker Prize in 2017 for his novel Lincoln and the Bardo.

He is the author of four story collections including In Persuasion Nation and 10th of December.

Now here's George Saunders.

Love Letter

February 22nd, 20-20-something.

Dear Robbie, got your email kid.

Sorry for handwriting and reply.

Not sure emailing is the best move considering the topic, but of course you being nearly six foot now your mother says that's up to you dear although you know strange times

Beautiful day here a flock of geese just now came in low over the deck and your grandmother and I,

holding the bright blue mugs you kindly sent at Christmas,

did simultaneous hip swivels as they zinged off toward Rosley and I expect an easy

meal on the golf course there.

Forgive my use of initials and what follows. Would not wish to cause further difficulties for G, M, or J. Good folks

all. We very much enjoyed meeting them when you stopped by last Easter. Should this get sidetracked and read by someone other

than you?

I think you are right regarding G. That ship has sailed. Best to let that go. M per your explanation does not lack proper paperwork but did know all the

while that G did lack it, yes, and did nothing about that? I'm not suggesting of course that she should have but putting ourselves into their heads as I think

these days is prudent to try to do we might ask why didn't M, again, according to them to their way of thinking, do

what she should have done by letting someone in authority know about G, since being here is a privilege and not a right. Are we or are we not as I have

...