As with all books that question social,
cultural, and religious mores, Armen Melikian’s Journey to
Virginland is certain to offend some readers. For the most part,
what has been handed down in the form of beliefs and customs goes
unexamined, and is embraced as a matter of convenience, identity, and
survival. Therefore it takes an open-minded individual to accept the
author on his own terms, and to listen without feeling the need to
argue with him or change him in any way — in other words, to go
ahead and enter his vision or dream. It is not necessary for the two
of them to agree. Only madmen are unwilling to entertain the
possibility that they do not know everything — madmen, and those
whose lives have taught them to be wary, jealous, bitter,
competitive, and afraid.
There is, of course, another side of
the matter: namely, how well — how inventively, imaginatively,
effectively — does Journey to Virginland meet the demands of
literature? And equally important, does it live up to and transcend
its own demands, and
ultimately surprise its author? Because if the writer is beyond
surprise, and therefore unable to laugh at himself, his readers will
sense it from the beginning. A book that is merely clever and cunning
will appeal only to clever and cunning readers. A book that is human,
on the other hand, is apt to be treated as a worthy document, friend,
and companion.
So what kind of book is this?
Most assuredly, Journey to Virginland possesses the requisite
humor that serious art must possess if it is also to be human.
Likewise, we find in it a compelling sense of urgency: in essence,
the time to think and act is now,
because nothing less than our self-understanding is at stake:
The choices are literally between
transcendence and self-destruction, even through revolt. And as long
as there are oppressors in the world of men, the fake currency of
saviors will be in high demand.
Ethnicity, nations, religions, politics
are, in effect, surface phenomena; we need to dig deeper than that,
to the heart of things, and this book, at turns feverish and poetic,
and always refreshingly unapologetic, leads us in that direction.
Satire and wordplay flow freely in this outsider’s narrative, this
twenty-first century life of the artist as a young dog. To the degree
that they are obstacles, they yet serve as their own kind of
visual-rhythmic accompaniment. After all, as a cursory glance at old
English texts reveals, language is a living, changing thing. And so
to a degree, conventional meaning is both transitory and a drug. To
rely on it exclusively is to be defined by words themselves, and to
be enslaved by them. The danger becomes even greater when we approach
the old religious texts. Venerable, hoary institutions, beware.
Ultimately, there is no need to compare
this novel, or anti-novel, to other books. To those widely read,
several will suggest themselves. Melikian is obviously among that
number, and cannot believe his work is without influence or
predecessor. But Journey to Virginland is different enough,
energetic enough, challenging enough, and informative enough to carry
its own weight. In the end, Armen Melikian has not only written this
book; I think it has written, and will go on writing, him.
Journey to
Virginland: Epistle 1
by Armen Melikian
Two Harbors Press
Minneapolis
2010
ISBN 10: 1-935097-51-2
ISBN 13: 978-1-935097-51-8
272 Pages. Hardcover.