¶ The Thursday letter
One letter, every Thursday.
The week’s long read, one thing worth making, and a note from the margins. Free, no tracking pixels, and you can leave in one click.
18,400 readers in 61 countries. Sent at 7 a.m. your time.
¶ Every Thursday at 7 a.m.
What is in a letter
i.
The week’s long read
The full essay in your inbox, with the pictures, so you can read it on the train without a signal.
ii.
One thing worth making
A small project you can finish by Sunday: a bottle of ink, a darned sock, a loaf, a sharpened chisel.
iii.
A note from the margins
The best reader letter of the week, a correction if we owe one, and whatever Wynn drew in the margin.
Questions, answered plainly
Is it really free?
Yes. The magazine is paid for by readers who choose to become patrons, and by a small print run we sell twice a year. The letter will always be free.
How often will you write?
Once a week, on Thursday morning. Very occasionally a second letter when something is worth it, like a new issue.
Do you track opens?
No. There are no tracking pixels and no link redirects. We count subscribers, and that is all.
Can I leave?
Every letter ends with a one-click unsubscribe link. No questions, no survey.
¶ Letters to the editor
Readers write back
We print a handful every issue. Corrections are the ones we like best.
Your piece on mending sent me to my grandmother’s sewing tin. I darned three socks and cried a bit. Thank you.
Ruth O.
Aberdeen
I made the oak-gall ink with my daughter. It went on grey and came up black by teatime, exactly as promised. She now writes everything in it.
Dev P.
Leicester
A small correction on the salt roads: the inn at Wheelock closed in 1968, not 1971. My father was the last landlord.
Margaret K.
Truro
The only magazine I read slowly on purpose. The margins are my favourite part.
Tomasz W.
Gdańsk
Please do bells again. The founders’ tuning book should be in a museum, not a barn.
Helen A.
Lewes
I am a joiner. Your Victorian sharpening routine is exactly what my old master taught me, down to the ten strokes on the strop.
Sam R.
Durham