A Letter to Jim

From 'James' by Percival Everett

By  Pragya Pandey, BA Hons Sociology, 3rd Year

Edited by Vasvi Singhal

Dear Jim, 

I cannot stop thinking about you. Your voice haunts me, the quiet defiance in your words and the steady thrum of hope beneath your sorrow. You were never meant to be merely a footnote in someone else’s adventure. No, you were always the heart of it. And now, through Everett’s eyes, you finally take your rightful place as a man of towering strength and breathtaking vulnerability. 

I see you on that raft, your hands steady even as the river rages. You cradle freedom in your chest and hold it close even when it feels as distant as the stars. Your longing for your wife and children cuts through the pages like the very current pulling you south. You protect Huck with a wisdom he doesn’t yet deserve and with a tenderness that feels boundless. And when you speak, when you finally speak, there is no turning away. 

There were moments I wanted to stop reading just to breathe. You made me feel the weight of iron around your wrists. I smelled the damp earth beneath your feet as you ran. I tasted the salt in the stories you dared to tell only to yourself. And when you looked at the river, I could feel your gaze stretch beyond it to a place where no one owns you. 

Jim, I will carry your voice with me. It lingers not as a whisper, but as a force- steadfast, unyielding and unforgettable. Thank you for daring to take back your story. 

With deepest respect, 
A Reader