Summary

The text is a whimsical letter from a father to his unborn daughter, recounting the mythological origin of languages and the invention of books.

Abstract

In a letter addressed to his unborn daughter, the author crafts a fanciful narrative about the Tower of Babel, where humanity's attempt to build a tower to heaven led to the creation of multiple languages by divine intervention. He describes the confusion that followed, the resilience of humans in creating languages from shared understanding, and the subsequent need for communication that led to the invention of writing and eventually books. The author draws parallels between the tower's construction and the layering of an ice cream cone, and he muses on the evolution of communication from spoken words to drawings, tree carvings, and finally, the creation of the first round, wheel-like books from sliced trees. The letter concludes with a promise to discuss moral choices in the next correspondence and a note on the vast number of books in the world.

Opinions

The author views the Tower of Babel not just as a biblical event but as a metaphor for human ambition and the diversity of languages.
He sees the creation of languages as both a curse and a testament to human adaptability and creativity.
The author implies that the need for communication and the desire to preserve information were the driving forces behind the invention of writing and books.
He suggests that books, despite their origin from cutting trees, are a valuable part of human culture and knowledge.
The author conveys a sense of wonder and joy in the process of human innovation, particularly in the context of overcoming communication barriers.
He hints at a future discussion on making choices, perhaps suggesting that his daughter will face similar dilemmas between cultural advancement and environmental preservation.

MY DEAREST LIZZY

Letters to my unborn daughter #1 — How we invented books

Irreverent, joyful, human, but never sad, letters from a father to a daughter he cannot have

The Tower of Babel by CCXpistiavos from Pixabay

Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other — Genesis 11:7

My dearest Lizzy

If you stack all the books that have been written so far, on your little head which I love to touch so much, you will look like an enterprising black ant with the Eiffel tower on top of you.

That tower though was never meant to be the tallest.

Many many, many days ago, before we started recording time, there was a single language that everyone spoke. Everybody understood each other. Translation wasn’t even a profession, you know.

One thing turned into another and as time passed, we got bored and one day decided to come together in a single humanity, to embark on a magnificent idea to build a tower that will reach heaven.

We knew that heaven was skyward. I know, I know. It was just an idea.

But, god overheard us.

He was angry.

He had been shaken for long by the insouciance of us all. And now this! So to prevent this dangerous enterprise, he cursed us. He commanded we stop understanding each other.

It came to pass soon afterward that a million tongues will spring up, each speaking the same word differently.

Now, you know words are sounds and nothing more. Can’t you imagine a room full of people gurgling away like when you were a baby? That is what happened. An earth full of us making noise.

Nobody understood.

It was scary. But you know, humanity is smart. When two people started to understand the sounds each made, a language was born. I wonder if it is just that what makes a language — two people who can understand the sounds they make.

What is music then? I know, I know. I am getting back.

Anyway, after some time, just like the drops of differently colored ink twirled and twisted in the glass of water that we played with last summer, each color making more water its own, a million voices changed into half a million languages.

I hope you understand the mathematics of this, for all I did was divide by two.

There were quite a few languages now. Quite many you can imagine.

But hey, it was better than a million voices.

When the noise settled, we were back like ants wanting to build that tower again. That is how we wanted to beat God.

We decided to build the tower like an ice cream cone.

When you unwrap a blueberry mint cone that you will like one day, you peel off the wrapper around it like a helix.

I know I know, again. What is a helix?

It is like a circle with one side up. Just like when you drop a coin on the floor and the crazy shape it makes before going still.

No. Not a pyramid, silly. A helix.

There was a path around the tower that now went round and round, round, and up. Men and material moved on the path.

And we started building to reach heaven.

Children didn’t have to work. But their fathers and mothers did.

There were so many of us that we needed to tell each other what one of us wanted the other to do. Remember we spoke half of a million languages now. There had to be a solution to the problem of understanding.

And that is how we started to draw.

Soon, the drawings we made on the sand using sticks were not good enough. Something we will draw today would often be needed tomorrow.

One of us came up with an idea of writing on trees, they are soft and the words don’t disappear with the wind.

We started to write on trees.

As for the sand, we got two large pots with a tiny hole in their bottoms and put one on top of the other. Children started to call them a sand clock for the sand will trickle from one pot to another. And if you are patient you would know that a day has passed.

Everywhere you looked around, there were trees with markings.

One drawing that will tell someone he was slow and needed to work harder. Another telling everybody there will be a party in the evening.

We drew so much that soon there were not enough trees left to pass on a message. So people will travel more than a mile, often five to leave even a simple message that food is ready.

You can come and eat.

No, not you, silly!

Everything became funny and tiresome.

Then, a bad and angry man had another idea. What if we could cut down trees and cut round slices and write on them.

This was brilliant. The first book was born.

Yes, it was round and could be rolled like a wheel. No, that was not how wheels were born.

And listen, books will soon become square.

P.S. When you read this, remember how it all came to pass. Cutting a tree is bad but if we had not started it, there wouldn’t have been books.

When you grow up, you will face choices like this.

In my next letter, I will tell you how to choose. But for now, let me tell you more about books. For you will love them.

An ant can really carry a lot on its head.

Just imagine yourself carrying our entire house with me and your mother in it.

There are more books in the world than the languages we all speak. There are so many that it will take you as much time to read them all, as much it will take you to build the Tower of Babel yourself.

I stop here for today. I shall write again soon.