Hello readers,
I would like to welcome you to the first post on my new blog page, ‘The Scribe’s Scribblings’. Slightly unfortunately, and mostly by coincidence, I am unable to boast that this is the most important thing to happen to the UK on this particular Saturday, and yet I like to think that I’ll be able to conjure some fanfare without being overshadowed by the historic crowning of a nation’s monarch. That is, if the Palace hasn’t already bagsied all the trumpeters.
A coronation is an interesting thing, and an anachronistic thing in this age of constant, unrelenting progression, in its reliance on largely symbolic, immaterial iconography and ceremony to evoke a sense of historical significance. Of course, there are plenty of guards with real deterrents, and any attempt to disturb the event will likely result in a very material consequence for the interloper, but the sites of meaning themselves, from the placing of the crown on the head to the specific choice of carriage that the monarch will ride to and then from the abbey in, are all both as superficial and as fundamental as whether or not a rectangle of green paper (correction: plastic) is worth 5 or 10 or 20 units of made-up currency. It is such traditions, entirely separate from the rational world of today and yet undeniably if inexplicably sensical, that provide order, unity, identity, and meaning.
Whether or not one is united in delighting in or detesting such traditions, is entirely up to the subject in question, of course.
Such unifying symbols can be useful on a national level, and on spheres much humbler too. Take this website as an example. I am not quite sure why that particular Henry James quote resonated with me quite so strongly— after all, it was said in passing in a Creative Writing class at my university lumped in amongst other general maxims about authoring. In that context, with little real knowledge of Henry James’ own methodology or belief system, there can be no real reason rationally discerned as to why it would spark a chain reaction that resulted in the creation of a website some 6 months later. And yet it did, and the moniker ‘The Watchful Scribe’ arrived, neatly parcelled, upon the doorstep of my thoughts. Similarly, it would be difficult to precisely explain why my ambition to explore a range of texts across the eras manifested itself in a juxtaposing image of a Byron-esque figure sitting on a riverside, with Wellsian Tripods loping over the distant hilltops, and yet it seems to have presented itself as significant enough in my mind to demand pride of place as the first thing seen when opening the site. These sorts of things have no real utilitarian justification; there is no reason as to why I couldn’t have just set up a black and white website with my name as the title, and spent the extra time gained with useful things, like investing in crypto or ironing; and yet once they are there, it is impossible to deny that they don’t conjure some statement, some resonant feeling, that demands even momentary consideration as to its importance.
For I as the writer, too, pinning my website’s colours to the mast of such a specific overarching theme also does provide some utility. Now that I am untethered from the sure, swift sails of the HMS Academia (is there such a thing as a naval metaphor outstaying its welcome? Let’s find out), rather than splashing about listlessly in the broiling waves, the identity I have chosen for the website gives a natural path through calmer waters onto the next shoreline. Choosing to shroud oneself in the amorphous, undefined mists of creative potential does give one the comforting sensation of fluidity and innovation, but sooner or later one must dare to pull those mists together and shape them into something more concrete. In the process of committing to a defined project, one must risk casting off other ideas and exposing themselves to criticism; yet this is the only way to find out whether you’ve been on the right track, or whether those intangible mists have been the hazes of delusion all along.
Thus, then, if allying oneself with unifying identity can provide meaning and purpose— whether the gilded metal of a ceremonial, 16th Century crown or the Photoshopped banner on a rather more recent homepage— a committed plan of action will further spur productivity. And, at danger of committing myself to a schedule that I will not be able to keep, now seems an appropriate time to say that I intend on posting one of these ‘Scribblings’ every weekend. Some will be on literature, some on general thoughts I’ve had over the week, but I hope that each one will provide even a sliver of interesting discussion to take away.
Thank you for reading,
The Watchful Scribe.