When the Readers Write Back

By Jim Hagarty
1989

Whatever else newspapers do, or are supposed to do, they are often very good at making people mad. Boiling mad. So mad, in fact, that many people put pen to paper and write blistering letters to the editor to announce to the world just how mad they are. This not only makes for interesting reading, but readers often do get it right where newspapers have it wrong and so the record is set straight. And some much-needed balance of perspective is often the result as readers supply points of view and information not provided by reporters or by the community leaders whose statements they record in print.

But before they elaborate on the erroneous reports in the newspapers that have got them so riled up, many letter writers feel compelled to explain the exact degree to which they have been ticked off, lest anyone think they are actually happy about what they’ve just read. Their hostility ranges from mild irritation to almost murderous rage and they rate their anger very specifically in advance of the rest of their comments.

Some come right to the point: “I am aghast,” a reader told The Toronto Globe and Mail. “I was outraged,” another told the same newspaper. “I was appalled,” a third told The London Free Press.

In fact, “appalled” seems to just about say it all for a lot of readers. It’s the bottom line of disgust and is used more often than any other word to describe the level of reader anger.

“I am appalled that your newspaper would give any credence to the most presumptuous written material I have ever read,” a letter writer rather dramatically told The Globe and Mail.

A reader wrote The Free Press: “I am appalled! The front page of your paper …”

But sometimes, “appalled” just doesn’t cut it. It needs a little enhancing and “shocked” seems to be just the word to spice it up.
“It shocks and appalls to see a publication of your stature …” a reader wrote The Globe and Mail. In fact, the terms are so often linked it hardly seems possible to be shocked without being appalled. But it is.

“We are all shocked and dismayed,” a reader told The Free Press. Others are simply shocked, no appalled. And a lot of writers are content to use only one word to describe their chagrin.

“I am infuriated over your coverage,” a writer told The Free Press. “I was sorry to read,” another told the same paper. “I was disappointed to see,” a third told The Kitchener-Waterloo Record.
But most writers prefer two words to one when it comes to expressing their hurt.

“I was at once annoyed and awed by the implications, of your headline,” a man wrote The Globe and Mail.

“I was astonished and then angered to read the report on page one of your newspaper,” a writer told The Free Press.

“I was both amused and annoyed at the extent of the media coverage given to …” a letter writer told The Record.

And some can get by with only one word but only if it’s preceded by a fitting adjective: “somewhat disappointed”; “deeply concerned”; “most disturbed.”

“It is with outrage that I write to you. Such was my feeling when I came across your article,” a Globe and Mail reader wrote.

Exclaimed another one: “I wish to express my dismay at the front page story . . .”

Dismay, disappointment, shock. Either newspapers are doing it very right. Or very wrong.

Being in the business, I never get to write a letter to the editor. It’s a good thing I don’t. I’m sure I’d out-outrage them all.

I’m pretty hard to shock.

But I can get appalled at the drop of a hat.

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.