The Paper Route

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September marched into the West of Ireland with a clipboard schedule of monsoon rains. Cue the cloud police chasing the merry sun around the sky for several damp and amusing adventures. For those of you saddened by gloomier weather, remember that the sun is simply out of sight as it plots its next jail-break (often with the aid of its larcenous pal, the wind).

Weekdays, teens in school uniforms are heaving heavy backpacks towards congested pick-up points, which reminds me that the school run has returned, so I avoid my local towns during those blocks of patience-testing time if possible.

School supplies are visible everywhere, and my fingers itch whenever I spot the columns of lined paper pads and brightly coloured packs of pens and highlighter markers. Nothing screams autumn at me as much as a happy shopping trip to stockpile stationary. I spent a good chunk of my life as a student in various schools and universities, so I gain a bounce to my step at this time of the year, even when I’m not embarking upon formal education.

The above picture of a beautiful shop specialising in stationary and art supplies exemplifies the kind of establishment that when I cross the threshold my wallet attempts to burrow under the receipts at the bottom of my bag to hide… but so what oldster, I can tap out purchases with my phone! Another gorgeous but non-essential set of colouring pencils or pot of shimmering ink returns home with me.

Despite my love of journals with exquisite covers, I’m content to pick up thick A4 pads for the kind of writing I consider the dumpster files: i.e. the ridiculous garbage that accumulates in your head over the course of a day. That mind-junk stinks after 24 hours.

I scribble entries in the dumpster files fast every day, often misspelled, with outrageous punctuation and occasionally in murdery all-caps using a blue gel pen for swift, unedited delivery. Who cares, this is not for prosperity or re-reading. The crybaby tripe and goblin mendacity is offloaded onto disposable pages making it less likely to occupy my thoughts or come out of my mouth. Afterwards, the often indecipherable scrawl is ripped out, shredded and recycled.

It’s the deep cleanse that allows breathing space for a clearer perspective on my life situations and for better words and strategies to manifest. This slower, thoughtful writing (in black ink) is allocated to prettier journals, since these reflections have the potential for further exploration.

While I do the bulk of my fiction writing via my laptop, nearly all of it begins with hand-written notes on the page. I discussed some of this before, in my December 2023 post, ‘Yule Review’, so I’ll simply quote myself: ‘hand-writing is a complex skill that activates several parts of the brain.’ I find it more conducive when I’m initially panning for thought-gold.

I doubt the volumes depicted above contained wasted words, considering how expensive paper was in the 17th century.

The word paper is derived from Old French papier, via the Latin papyrus, stemming from from the Ancient Greek word pápuros. This refers to the papyrus plant, a wetlands reed used in ancient Egypt to create the original writing material dating back to third millennium BCE. What we now term paper is quite different from papyrus, which was usually rolled into scrolls for writing. While it was cheap and easy to produce, the material was fragile and sensitive to moisture and dryness. Other materials that were commonly used included silk, parchment (skin from a sheep/goat) and vellum (skin from young animals such as calves), but they were costly and time-consuming to make.

The closest approximate we have to paper was first invented in China around 105 CE by Cai Lun, a Chinese court official and eunuch of the Eastern Han dynasty under the patronage of Empress Deng. He made sheets of paper from macerated mulberry bark, hemp, and rags which were soaked, cooked, beaten into pulp, spread over a flat sieve or screen, and then pressed and dried into thin flexible sheets that were durable and easy to write upon.

This clever method was the technological marvel of its age, and of course once other countries got wind of it, the method was sought, replicated and evolved. Over time, this would be referred to as rag paper.

It is claimed that after the Battle of Talas, fought in July 751 CE between the Abbasid Caliphate and the Chinese Tang dynasty (near the modern border of Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan), Chinese papermakers were captured, and their technological expertise was soon coopted.

This secret made its way to Islamic Spain (Al-Andalus) which was a major centre of learning and culture of the era, with extensive libraries and translated texts from Greece, Rome, Persia and India. The first known paper mill in Europe was established in Xàtiva (or Játiva), near Valencia, Spain in 1151. It was a water-powered stamping mill that greatly increased efficiency and used wire molds for a smoother surface for writing.

The method continued to spread and by the 13th century Fabriano in Italy established itself as a major centre of papermaking. Their contributions to the advancement of paper production were even better water-powered hammer mills, waterproofed paper, and the invention of watermarks to guarantee quality and authenticity.

New technology breeds fresh creations (1), and Gutenberg’s 1440 invention of the modern printing press with movable type would not have been possible without the steady production of thin, good quality rag paper. Over time, paper and books became a commodity that was easier to obtain, and by the late 18th century mass education began in earnest, driving the demand for both.

Oral storytelling and theatre might be two of the first forms of entertainment, but books allowed individuals to take stories with them and enter their worlds at will. It was the democratisation of information for the literate. No wonder this revolutionary change during the era of rebellion fuelled many moral panics about the availability of certain books to all reading people of any age or social class.

The demand for textiles to support the production of paper exploded. The raw material of rag paper was traditionally sourced from recycled worn-out garments and old sheets, and linen rags were prized for producing fine white paper. Old ropes, sailcloth, and canvas were useful for coarser types like wrapping paper and cardboard. By the 19th century there were insufficient rags to meet demand, so alternatives, such as hemp and wood pulp were investigated.

Due to rapid automation, the existence of wood mills, and in America the political machinations of industry moguls, wood pulp became the favoured source material for paper over hemp despite hemp being the ecologically superior and more versatile product in so many ways. (2)

At this point you must imagine that rag paper is no longer made… not so!

The artists, conservationists and fans of beautiful stationary among you will know that wood pulp paper has many drawbacks regarding longevity since it tends to discolour and degrade faster. Many companies continue to produce varieties of rag paper, such as cotton paper, for archival and art purposes, or for those who want mementos of special events (such as wedding invitations) or superior crafting material.

These days cotton paper is also a byproduct of the textile industry, but due to the extra labour required to create it and the time involved it’s more expensive. In our screen obsessed culture it’s wonderful that artisanal artefacts maintain a market, even if it’s small. If anything, I suspect that bespoke physical objects may carry more significance in the future.

While looking into this subject I stumbled upon a beautiful idea that points to the usefulness of social media when it truly allows creators to connect (rather than throttling that connection).

The Instagram account, Handmade Paper Exchange, is run by Sophia Hotzler and Genevieve Nordmark and this year they organised its 4th annual full-sheet handmade paper swap. The gist is that people submit 12 pages of their handmade paper to the exchange, and receive ten pages back from another maker. This explains the deficiency:

We create two full sets of papers every year. We keep one set to have a collection of all papers from over the years. This year your second extra paper will become part of the University of Iowa’s special collections in the Peter and Donna Thomas Fine Press Collection, thanks to papermaker and participant Peter Thomas. Check out more about him here and the collection here. The collection is searchable, so anyone curious about papermaking can find your paper and recipe. Fun fact: the University of Iowa is home to the Center for the Book, a program all about the art and history of books.

What a fabulous discovery! Not only are people making paper at home (I’m delighted) but the University of Iowa is collecting these efforts — plus it hosts the Centre of the Book:

an innovative arts and research program dedicated to the past, present, and future of the book. The Center pursues a distinctive mission, integrating practice in the art of the book with a study of the book in society. We offer curricula in the arts of printing, binding, papermaking, and calligraphy, in the history and culture of books as a field of study, and in the expressive power of the book form. The Center also supports an active program of visiting lectures and workshops with renowned book scholars and artists.

When I discover a project like this I’m inspired by the ingenuity of people and their desire to fashion unique objects for the joy of the creative act and to share it with others.

Perhaps some of you will research and experiment with this activity during autumn to produce your own paper, and submit it to the Handmade Paper Exchange next year.

Let the Paper Route continue!