The Calligrapher by Edward Docx

The idea that being a calligrapher was a possible career path was mind-bending. Imagine: to actually make a living writing texts in beautiful handwriting. To have people pay you to play with special paper and bottles of ink.

The Calligrapher is probably not destined to be a classic work of literature or anything, but I certainly enjoyed it while it lasted. It had a touching simplicity while the plot kept my attention throughout.

It was the vision of spreading a clean sheet of paper out, dipping pens in bottled ink and producing this traditional art that inspired me. So, after a few years of excuses, I finally signed up for a calligraphy class at Paper Source in San Francisco last spring.

After twelve hours of class and hour of practice every night for a month, I had mastered the italic hand and had produced my first masterpiece: a beautifully addressed envelope. Buoyed by my success, I decided to hand-address my wedding invitations. Turned out to be pretty impressive, but I’m still a beginner, using cartridge pens with my basic alphabet. I’m not giving up, though. I’m keeping my eyes open for a more advanced class. And someday someone might pay me to transcribe the Songs and Sonnets of John Donne.

The Calligrapher by Edward Docx

tags: books book reviews calligraphy Edward Docx