Dear n+1 Magazine Hartford Critic

Dear n+1 Magazine Hartford Critic

Like the proverbial accident that one can’t turn away from, I read every word of n+1′s Hartford, Connecticut article despite my disgust. I was simultaneously struck by the deftness with which it was written and the relentlessness with which it railed. So many words poured out for the seemingly single purpose of painting an utterly despairing picture! Why, I wondered. Still, after so many futile months spent trying to find a home into which my family and I can settle, I thought, “Disaster averted. Pack the bags. Get out quick!” Thank you, author, for saving me from making an egregious mistake. But time, of course, ushers in clearheaded thinking, if you allow it. And I did. I am not from Hartford, as the author claims to be. In fact I have only lived in this city for just over a year, but even as a recent transplant, when the dust of this essay settled I was offended to the core by the unyielding, unending, and untrue invective that it proffers. I have no interest in reviewing, much less debating, each vilification, point by point. But I will say this: I am surprised that this city has not crumbled under the weight of an oppressive negative energy that infects it from within and without. This article is just one more block on the ever-growing Jenga pile. Never have I seen so many people revel in the perceived – and predicted! – failure of the hometown, seemingly oblivious to the fact that as they revel in those failures they are rooting against themselves. Even now, as the turmoil of the stadium project...