Traditionally, the epistolary novel—a story told through an exchange of letters—may seem to be a dying genre. In the modern age, most people have traded in handwritten letters for text messages, emails, and DMs. But while letter-writing might veer towards obsolescence, epistolary novels aren’t following suit. Instead, they are finding footing in a reinvention.
It’s natural that authors would incorporate modern digital communication methods into their writing styles and novel formats—much like how movies now feature text message or email layovers. For example, The Appeal by Janice Hallett is a mystery novel primarily written in emails and text messages. Like the traditional epistolary form, this story is still told through correspondence—just a different kind.
Epistolary novels also seem uniquely suited to address our ever-diminishing attention spans. Chapters shortened into the length of an email are easier to digest, easier to rattle through, especially to the TikTok-adjusted brain. But do we lose anything in the transition from letter-writing to text-messaging? Does the contemporary epistolary novel still deliver on both plot and prose? Or should writers be returning to the epistolary form in its truest sense?
Whatever you may think of the attention economy, reading something short and snappy is inherently engaging and appealing. I could read a novel purely in YouTube comment section arguments. Contemporary epistolary novels definitely cater to our ever-diminishing attention spans. As such, they are a perfect vehicle for delivering a page-turning plot.
Mystery epistolary novels do particularly well. Jumping between text exchanges and email threads adds a unique level of reader involvement in deciphering clues. This works well when the author utilises multiple POVs, such as in The Appeal. Really, it’s just internet sleuthing in book format—and who doesn’t love a good internet sleuth?
Where the contemporary epistolary novel really struggles is prose. For instance, people tend to be much less lyrical in writing through text messages. I’d wager that few readers want to read a book filled with “My Dear Bestie” and “tho” (though if you do, more power to you). Detailed and creative prose is fitting for letter-writing, but not for modern forms of communication where the focus is more generally on brevity and efficiency.
There’s also a more general issue created by the speed at which internet vocabulary moves. Considering the amount of time it takes to get a novel published, creatives always seem to be one step behind when it comes to slang. Have you ever cringed at a movie’s use of strange, outdated phrases and emojis?
Imagine this same situation, but extended over 300 pages. I would suggest that writers can solve this issue by keeping it light on transient “internet vocab” that may quickly die out, and sticking mostly to “established” slang. In any case, it’s a tough line to toe between believable and cringey.
It looks like, then, the epistolary novel isn’t dying out completely—just reinventing itself. The contemporary epistolary novels also have a particular appeal to students who want to read more, but have waning attention spans. Isn’t it nice that, instead of a “quick phone break” from your half-hearted attempt at reading Utilitarianism, you could instead have a “quick book break”? And though reading three emails may not be the same as reading three chapters, it still—surely—beats watching three minutes of TikTok.
