‘It is past and contemporary. And alive’: Writer Janice Pariat’s summer of living among archives
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There are three things to know about archives.
There is dust.
They are endless.
Did I mention dust?
We are blissfully unaware of all this as we make our way to the first of our library stops this summer.
The British Library. Big, Brutalist, red-bricked, stone-paved, and in one corner, perpetually in attendance, Paolozzi’s naked Newton hunched over a pair of dividers. I’ve been here a few times before, my husband, Sam hasn’t, and inside we take a moment to gaze at that very high ceiling, white, light-filled, and before us, the gigantic bookshelves, end to end – we still wonder whether they’re merely decorative. It doesn’t take long for both of us to be handed our reader’s passes downstairs, and we’re thrilled.
Then we spend an eternity at the locker room.
A most devilish place.
Narrow corridors lined with lockers, most of which are full, faulty or stubbornly stuck. After we eventually find one that works, and take a picture of the locker number, we head upstairs with our see-through bags holding essentials. No water. No pens. No jackets. Just laptop, phone, wallet, notebook.
Given the nature of our interests, we’re directed to The Asian and African Studies Reading Room (AAS RR). Third floor and consistently busy. Later in the month, I happen to venture into...