55 is a good number. It has the elegance of symmetry and it is on the downhill halfpipe towards 100, which is also a good number. It turns out it’s a good number in numerology as well. It is the number of independence, freedom, and self-determination. Gimme a break!
It’s been exactly 55 days since I started posting on this blog every single day. Nothing too fancy, just about 200-300 (ok, occasionally 800)-word riffs and rants about how reading, writing and books more generally have changed and continue to change our culture.
It has been challenging, but also extremely rewarding. And I’ve learned a lot. A lot about the topics I’ve covered; a lot about myself, my lack of discipline and the tendency to procrastinate (ok, I didn’t need a blog to get to know that, but it’s been a loud reminder); a lot about my readers, many of whom have become regulars – filling my heart with joy and my mind with solid commitment. Some of you have even taken the time to get in touch and let me know how much you enjoy reading my nonsense with your morning coffee. That brings even more joy – and the desire to do better every day.
I have also learned that philobiblonia seems too arcane a name for most of my readers. About pages seldom get visited, so many readers won’t actually get the pun behind the name of the blog. I have decided to change it slightly.
Starting today, this blog is getting a home of its own and a slight name-change: biblonia.com. Like Utopia, Narnia or Brian Aldiss’ Helliconia – a world set apart for something special. A world of biblon, of books. You get it.
I could have done better, I know, but this seemed like a good catch-all for the myriad of topics and ideas that are shared here, from insights on ancient and medieval manuscripts, to thoughts about printing, e-books, orality, literacy, the future of writing and the ways we interact with books of all kinds. But a name is but a name.
What’s more important is that I keep to what’s important – and that is keeping the stories going, and keeping them interesting. You’ve told me you like them, and I believe you. So I keep going, scrambling for an idea every night before going to bed, or worse, every morning, afraid I might run out of them and break my promise. Let’s hope that won’t happen (any time soon).
Thanks and see you next time.