my letter to

To the      3 December 2018

Re: Jenny Lee has vanished from the 1December/2December 2018 FT


Oh No! Metropolitan Life has vanished from the 1December/2December 2018 FT! Jenny Lee is not at home on the pink page that’s instantly unfolded by breathless fingertips! (Never mind if the coffee gets cold.)

A black hole stares back – in the shape of some woman whose writer’s alta mayor can’t even dream in a million years to touch Jenny Lee’s big toe of word smithery enchantment.

Who else manages to squeeze an American-size novel into an aphorism? Subdue an epic poem into a haiku? Her pen’s incandescence right there with Rilke and Rumi?

Who else takes us on her rooftop where we watch her build a fire with words? Where she educates, warns and warms us? Strings together a story with crystal clear language, each crystal a kaleidoscope? (Like disgust, glee, gratitude, Greek mythology spicing her turkey’s nuked neck.)

Who else serves up the latest, this-very-instant, down-to-earth (DC/worldwide), politico-econo-philo-psycho-socio-lyric-logical thoughts on the most burning issues? In a singular style that appeals to the ears not only of FT’s loyal habitués but the digerati of generations Y and Z?

Questions from a fan who ardently hopes that Jenny Lee joyously savors her well-merited vacation. And who avidly, resignedly, re-readingly, awaits her return.

Jo Christiane Ledakis




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