What We Are Reading Today: ‘Paper: Paging Through History’

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Updated 08 July 2025
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What We Are Reading Today: ‘Paper: Paging Through History’

  • Each papermaker refined their formula to allow ink to glide but not soak, creating sheets that were durable and portable

Author: Mark Kurlansky

“Paper: Paging Through History” by Mark Kurlansky, published in 2016, is a sweeping, detailed chronicle of how paper, arguably one of humanity’s most versatile inventions, traveled from its origins in ancient China across continents and centuries to reshape civilizations.

Kurlansky, an American journalist known for his deep dives into everyday materials, traces how humans moved from parchment and silk to mulberry bark and linen rags. 

Oral narrators once carried knowledge across generations; paper allowed that information to outlive them.

Each papermaker refined their formula to allow ink to glide but not soak, creating sheets that were durable and portable.

The watermark, made from a simple wire design, left a faint imprint that branded the paper. That part was owned by the papermaker, not the paper mill, and customers began choosing paper based on those marks. 

Paper was introduced to Europe by Arabs, who brought refined papermaking techniques to the continent. Europeans initially hesitated to adopt paper widely because oral tradition was the preferred way to share important stories; they felt that writing it down cheapened its value. 

Over time, through trade and cultural contact in regions like Andalusia and along the Silk Road, paper gradually gained acceptance and became widely used.

Kurlansky delves into how the use of paper birthed various industries. It offered people with an entrepreneurial spirit the ability to make a living.

Papermakers changed the art world, too, with the introduction of special papers, such as watercolor paper. 

Paper also shifted the world of journalism: Broadsheets, magazines, pamphlets, almanacs and, of course, books became more widely available at a lower cost. Yesterday’s newspaper would also be reused to line things like bird cages or to wrap food with.

It helped popularize things like playing cards, wrapping paper, wallpaper, paper fans, greeting cards and paper money, and lent itself to important medical, legal and political documents, such as the US Declaration of Independence.

“Paper: Paging Through History” was such a captivating read that I often paused to reflect, and I told everyone around me about the book. One moment that stood out was the 19th-century French campaign in which women were encouraged to donate their old handkerchiefs and linen to papermakers, as it might one day return to them in the form of a love letter.

Today, paper remains a vital medium where thoughts, plans, and dreams are recorded. 

It might seem mundane, but in an increasingly digitized world, its ability to let a narrative stand the test of time is history itself, like this very book.
 

 


Decoding villains at an Emirates LitFest panel in Dubai

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Decoding villains at an Emirates LitFest panel in Dubai

DUBAI: At this year’s Emirates Airline Festival of Literature in Dubai, a panel on Saturday titled “The Monster Next Door,” moderated by Shane McGinley, posed a question for the ages: Are villains born or made?

Novelists Annabel Kantaria, Louise Candlish and Ruth Ware, joined by a packed audience, dissected the craft of creating morally ambiguous characters alongside the social science that informs them. “A pure villain,” said Ware, “is chilling to construct … The remorselessness unsettles you — How do you build someone who cannot imagine another’s pain?”

Candlish described character-building as a gradual process of “layering over several edits” until a figure feels human. “You have to build the flesh on the bone or they will remain caricatures,” she added.

The debate moved quickly to the nature-versus-nurture debate. “Do you believe that people are born evil?” asked McGinley, prompting both laughter and loud sighs.

Candlish confessed a failed attempt to write a Tom Ripley–style antihero: “I spent the whole time coming up with reasons why my characters do this … It wasn’t really their fault,” she said, explaining that even when she tried to excise conscience, her character kept expressing “moral scruples” and second thoughts.

“You inevitably fold parts of yourself into your creations,” said Ware. “The spark that makes it come alive is often the little bit of you in there.”

Panelists likened character creation to Frankenstein work. “You take the irritating habit of that co‑worker, the weird couple you saw in a restaurant, bits of friends and enemies, and stitch them together,” said Ware.

But real-world perspective reframed the literary exercise in stark terms. Kantaria recounted teaching a prison writing class and quoting the facility director, who told her, “It’s not full of monsters. It’s normal people who made a bad decision.” She recalled being struck that many inmates were “one silly decision” away from the crimes that put them behind bars. “Any one of us could be one decision away from jail time,” she said.

The panelists also turned to scientific findings through the discussion. Ware cited infant studies showing babies prefer helpers to hinderers in puppet shows, suggesting “we are born with a natural propensity to be attracted to good.”

Candlish referenced twin studies and research on narrative: People who can form a coherent story about trauma often “have much better outcomes,” she explained.

“Both things will end up being super, super neat,” she said of genes and upbringing, before turning to the redemptive power of storytelling: “When we can make sense of what happened to us, we cope better.”

As the session closed, McGinley steered the panel away from tidy answers. Villainy, the authors agreed, is rarely the product of an immutable core; more often, it is assembled from ordinary impulses, missteps and circumstances. For writers like Kantaria, Candlish and Ware, the task is not to excuse cruelty but “to understand the fragile architecture that holds it together,” and to ask readers to inhabit uncomfortable but necessary perspectives.