Elia; and The Last Essays of Elia

Charles Lamb wrote as if penning letters to a trusted friend, and the result is a voice unlike any other in English literature. These essays, published under the pseudonym Elia (taken from an Italian clerk Lamb once knew at the South-Sea House), capture the art of making the ordinary feel immortal. Lamb writes about childhood, London streets, a sister's laughter, and the precise pleasure of roast pork with equal devotion. His tone is confiding, self-deprecating, and strangely modern, he complains about London fog, muses on the cruelty of schoolmasters, and reflects on the peculiar comfort of familiar books with the ease of someone who knows you will understand. The essays span 1820 to 1825, and some references have faded with time, but Lamb's voice has not. What remains is a portrait of a man who found the world endlessly fascinating precisely because he looked at it so closely. Reading Elia feels like sitting across from someone who sees beauty in what everyone else overlooks. For anyone who believes the essay is the most intimate form of literature, this is its masterpiece.