Drop Me a Lifeline

Three Guesses, a novella by Memphian Chris McClain Johnson, offers an epistolary tale of surprising friendship between three very different adults, developed over the course of six years. What begins as a search for the story of a painting by one of the three transforms into spirited, platonic exchanges that enrich each character’s life with greater meaning, shared intimacy, and self-actualization.

On a lark in 1998, Sam (short for Samatha), then employed by the Fine Arts Donation Collective in Memphis, breaks the rules of her job to sneak a missive to Pete, in New York City, and Richard, in Phoenix, asking why Richard paid four times the value of a painting by Pete titled Three Guesses. In fits and starts, the three embark on a written rapport sparked by curiosity and a bit of hostility. Artist Pete’s first letter opens, “I don’t have time for this crap,” and he signs off, “Have a nice life, you kooks. Leave me alone.” In response, Richard posits that Pete doesn’t want to be left alone because otherwise he wouldn’t have written. Richard also includes details of his recent breakup and a recipe for his “Popping Paloma” cocktail.

Their subsequent letters recount heartbreaks, infatuations, creative and personal stagnation and success, moves, and myriad adventures. By 2000, two years after Sam’s original query, the three strangers have braided a lifelong friendship. “Oddly enough,” writes Richard, “this curious connection is the only thing I look forward to anymore.”

From the jump, without fail, the three close their respective letters with zingy sincerity, e.g., “Fairly agitated,” “In the Land of Maybe,” “Love you like water loves sun,” “Literally worried to pieces,” “Degradation,” and “Love you more than words.” Even though months often go by without a letter, and in spite of their disparate locations and stages of life, Sam, Pete, and Richard extend to one another an unwavering kind of support and connection free from judgment, rife with candor, that serves as a lifeline tethered not by physical proximity — or even any time in the same room — but emotional honesty.

Winner of the 2023 Fugere Book Prize, an annual award sponsored by Regal House Publishing that includes the manuscript’s publication, Three Guesses is the debut book by Johnson, a native Kentuckian and longtime Memphis resident.

The correspondence in Three Guesses, from 1998 to 2005, could not have taken place at a different time. These years mark a sweet spot: Email was prevalent and accessible, but writing letters was still familiar, albeit an exercise that required greater effort. (“Note the new address, pen pal people,” Pete writes, “I’m nowhere near my post office box these days.”) It’s never explained how, exactly, the letters are exchanged between the three. Is each letter first handwritten then copied? But the point of the story lies in much deeper questions: How is it that three strangers can share such intimacy without having met? What depth and thoughtfulness do handwritten letters require (and give) that electronic correspondence lacks? How can romantic friendships contain such multitudes? I’ll give you three guesses.