welcome to Ravenquill Press

The night was blustery and cold; as the sky had grown darker, Lizzy had listened to the creaking sound of the old tree outside her window. It had been threatening to rain all day and now a thick mist choked the damp black claws of the little wood behind the house and turned the street lamps out front into floating, disembodied orbs glowing like the blank eyes of some startled animal. Lizzy squinted through the window for a minute, watching a tired looking mom and two skipping, costumed kids appear out of the mist and make their way up the walk. She knew her grandmother was waiting downstairs with a bowl of candy- she had gone with her to the speciality candy shoppe to select large quantities of vintage candies that she was pretty sure no other house in the neighborhood would have. With a smile, she turned back to the mirror, looking critically at her costume- the black Alice band in her long blonde hair was the signature touch in her costume of a whimsical blue print dress and white pinafore. She slipped into a pair of black maryjanes, grabbed her coat and headed down the hall.

At the top of the staircase she paused next to the door into her grandfather's study. She knocked, but when there was no answer she quietly opened the door. Stepping inside, she felt as she always did in the dim, antiquated room- like she had stepped into a room somehow outside the realm of normal time and space. Tonight, with the wind blowing outside and the flicker of firelight casting convoluted shadows on the dark, glossy woodwork and tall bookshelves, the feeling was stronger than ever. Her grandfather was sitting in front of the fire place in his tall, Victorian armchair. In his cadenced, thoughtful old voice he was murmuring something in a steady rhythm-

‘...To die, to sleep--
No more--and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished….’

‘Grandpa?’ She said, uncertainly. He turned, only mild surprise on his face at being interrupted from his reverie.

‘Hello my dear. Don't you look lovely- am I correct in guessing you're portraying  a certain Alice who fell down a rabbit hole to wonderland?’

‘You are indeed!’ She gave him a hug. ‘What were you saying when I came in?’ She asked, a little worriedly, as he motioned to the soft ottoman by his chair and sat back down himself.

‘Oh, I was just quoting Hamlet. One begins to relate a bit more to his famous soliloquy when you've got almost ¾ of a century behind you. Poor soul… He was only in his twenties, if that.’ He glanced at her furrowed brow and  chuckled. ‘Don't worry, dear- I don't think the spirits on the wind tonight have my name on their list quite yet.’ He winked at her, setting her brief worries to rest.

‘I probably should have recognized that speech,’ She said apologetically. ‘I'm afraid I'm not very well versed in Shakespeare.’

‘Well you're welcome to my collection anytime!’ He pointed up at a shelf labeled with a piece of neatly labeled tape. ‘But of course you know that.’

‘Of course,’ she said with a fond grin. ‘And I should avail myself of that more often than I do. Now I'm getting older I feel I should know more than I do about our western literary traditions… it's a daunting task to begin, though.’

‘Yes, but a worthwhile one.’ Grandpa sighed. ‘It's a shame how much classical education seems to have gone by the wayside. All those stories and myths… they're worth so much more than just entertainment, although they're good for that too… better than much of the rubbish they put out these days…’ His voice trailed off abstractedly and he rubbed his chin, faraway and bemused for a moment. Lizzy shook her head at him.

‘And?’ She prompted. He looked back at her.

‘Well they can teach so many, many things. Things we forget too easily… how did Lewis say it? He was talking about history but it applies just the same-’ He rose and took a book from the shelf, opening it at a marker. He slid his eyeglasses from the pocket of his sweater, putting them on and then scanning the page for a moment before he cleared his throat and read-

‘We need intimate knowledge of the past. Not that the past has any magic about it, but because we cannot study the future, and yet need something to set against the present, to remind us that the basic assumptions have been quite different in different periods and that much which seems certain to the uneducated is merely temporary fashion.’

He peered at her over his glasses, looking very owlish for a moment. ‘The more forgetful we are of the past, the more ill prepared we will be for the future. History can teach us facts, and literature can teach us truths. Together, they are quite possibly  the greatest gifts we have for instruction- save the scriptures, of course.’

Lizzy had a sudden, clear mental picture of her grandfather when he had been a professor. She thought he must have been a very good one, and wished she could go back in time to sit in one of his classes. He stood up, pacing slowly as he continued.

‘It's the job of each generation to preserve that which has come before for the next generation, as well as adding to the genealogy of ideas, both good and bad, that have shaped our culture. People nowadays seem to think they can change the world without having much more than a hazy, instinctive idea of what it should be and why. The movers and shakers of the past didn't do so by accident- they had reasons, firm objective reasons for their actions. Some were misguided, even evil- but then, those who opposed them could also with justice call evil, evil, because they still believed in a standard. And the same goes for literature and art. The ideas that last are the ones that mean something. And without looking back to see what central ideas thread through history, in both literature and life, how are you to know what they are today?’

Lizzy stared at him as he paused, seeing him in a totally new light. Inside his now-frail body with its slightly hunched shoulders and stiff joints was someone she now respected more than ever before.

‘Relativism cannot change the world. And relativism is what we get when we begin to ignore objective, transcendent moral standards.’ He took her hands.

‘Read the books, dear. Read the myths-look at the mess that gods created in man's image make and learn from the actions of good men and women who had courage and loyalty. Read Shakespeare- see what destruction pride and greed can wreak and how much healing love and wisdom can bring. Read the romantics and remember that feelings, ideas and even wonder are only tools to be used-they become monsters like Frankenstein if you let them take over. Read, read, read, learn from it all- the good and the bad- and then carry it like a torch for the generations to come. You never know who will be the next great author to add to the canon of great literature and you never know what truth will be the spark that lights the fire in their mind.’

The clock on the mantle struck 7:00, and it was echoed by the grandfather clock downstairs. The discordant, syncopated sound of their tolling seemed to break the spell that had filled the cozy room. Grandpa looked up.

‘My goodness, you'll be late to your party! You'd better run along.’

‘Yes…’ Lizzy said, slowly, having a hard time coming back to earth. Her mind was full of Grandpa's words. ‘May I- I mean, would you- help me? Begin, I mean. Would you help show me how to find these ideas, which books to start with?’

‘Of course, dear. I would be honored. And it'd help keep me sharp- one’s never too old to learn you now, and lately I've been finding it easier to fall sound asleep midway through a read than to ponder it's deeper truths.’ He chuckled.  ‘We can even start tomorrow, if you'd like.’

‘Oh, yes please. Thank you grandpa!’ She flung her arms around him again and squeezed. He patted her hair.

‘Now run along, your friends are expecting you I'd say. Have a wonderful time, and keep an eye out- if the spirits were really to walk abroad, I'd say it would be on a night like this.’ He winked, and as if to accentuate his words, the wind gave a particularly wild howl, and the whole skeleton of the old house groaned. Lizzy gave him another hug, then with a ‘goodbye’ called over her shoulder, she ran down the stately staircase (an act that always seemed almost indecent to their pompous decorum) and out the door.

Grandpa smiled, then went to his shelves and began to pick books for the morrows lesson, setting them on a table beside the book that would base them all- his worn, leather Bible. Outside, the wind still blustered. But in his study all was safe and strong, and the fire flickered on...

Our Manifesto

To preserve both the knowledge and the spirit of Classic Western Literature-

from the myths of Greece to the great works of the last century.

In years gone by, the epic tales of Greek Gods and Heroes were as familiar a part of popular culture as the exploits of Marvel’s Superheroes are today. Literature is filled with references to Zeus, Athena, Apollo, the Fates and so many more people and creatures that are pregnant with meaning and wonder. These references conveyed shades of meaning to readers who understood the context and nuance attached to the characters and stories alluded to, and enriched the written word and conversation.

Now, though, many of those references mean little to us, and even the more recent literature that contain them is becoming less well known than modern work. Not so long ago, books like Little Women, Great Expectations and Jane Eyre were common reading, but now they seem to be increasingly seen as outdated or niche reading.

Here at Ravenquill, we aspire to not only learn and present knowledge about all of these books and myths, but also to preserve the spirit of excellence and beauty that they hold. Modern Literature may very well be featured here, as well- the point is not the age but the content, which is timeless. All good literature builds off of the same foundational values and it is those values that are the heart of this project.

Not only to revel in the joys of old literature, but to better the minds and hearts of ourselves and others.

Not only to write and create fun, evocative pieces and artwork, but to seek to learn and become better artists, writers, readers, people- by drawing on traditions that have shaped our culture.

So, while you’ll find melodrama, grand tales and flowery language here- in great volume, we would add- it is the hope of all of us at Ravenquill that you’ll also find deeper values of Love, Truth, and Beauty.