Vanquished in the field of arms, Armenia seeks salvation in the scriptoria. It is a retreat, but in this withdrawal there is dignity and a will to live. What is a scriptorium? It can be a cell, sometimes a room in a clay cottage, even a cave in the rocks. In such a scriptorium is a writing desk, and behind it stands a copyist, writing. Armenian consciousness was always infused with a sense of impending ruin. And by the fervent concomitant desire for rescue. The desire to save one’s world. Since it cannot be saved, let its memory be preserved. The ship will sink, but let the captain’s log remain.
So comes into being that unique phenomenon in world culture: the Armenian book. Having their alphabet, Armenians immediately go about writing books. Mashtots himself sets the example. He had barely produced the alphabet, and already we find him translating the Bible.
– Ryszard Kapu?ci?ski, Imperium
Hello. Yes. Another year. What fun. I’ve just spent three weeks off-grid, doing all the usual things – reading the complete works of Georges Perec, geotagging dive sites and drinking inordinate quantities of rum – and I’m ready to face the internet again.
So I’m attempting to warm up to speed again by mainlining Charles Stross, Matt Webb, and yet more rum, and I imagine there could be more of interest yet to be discovered.
Shall try to post some new thoughts in the next few days: storyshards, storypoints, the locative narrative, that kind of thing. In the mean time, three other gems from the holiday reading that you should definitely get into, if you haven’t already: Robert Byron, the aforegoing Ryszard Kapu?ci?ski and Blaise Cendrars.
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