Nazek Fahmy, attending a lecture by Umberto Eco, finds out about vegetal and mineral memory Since its inauguration a little over a year ago, the Bibliotheca Alexandrina has offered the public one major event after another. Notably it plays host to world figures with whom Egyptian scholars would not otherwise have the chance to interact. The last such occasion occurred on Saturday, when Umberto Eco, author of, among other acclaimed books, The Name of the Rose -- one of the 20th century's most widely read novels -- delivered a lecture entitled "Vegetal and Mineral Memory: The Future of Books" to an eclectic group of Egyptians and foreigners. An Italian with a universal sensibility, Eco can navigate both historical and geographical maps with the same ease -- something he demonstrated with subdued flair during the present, brief encounter. A mediaevalist by training, he was born in Alessandria, east of Turin, in 1932. Scholar, novelist and by now widely acknowledged cultural authority, Eco has a wide knowledge of languages and literatures, has travelled and lectured in many parts of the world and won over 30 honourary doctorates. A member of the Bibliotheca's Founding Board and Advisory Council, Eco did not arrive with the pomp and circumstance to be expected of a world renowned figure, but rather almost anonymously as a member of the Aldous Club, a circle of Italians from different walks of life who all happen to be bibliophiles. In this and other aspects of his presence Eco demonstrated an admirable modesty, recalling -- as much here as in his writing -- Borges's comment that in the end a good reader is an even rarer swan than a good writer; Eco has about him the dignified bearing and quiet wisdom of someone who has spent his life poring over maps, dictionaries, encyclopaedias. The Aldous Club was in fact somewhat reminiscent of the Magi, their entry resembling an act of homage, with each of them bearing a precious gift, a book -- contributions range in age from rare 16th-century publications to books issued a year or two ago -- to be deposited in what Eco terms "a temple of vegetal memory", and what his admirers might call the scholar's refuge. Inaugurated by Ismail Serageddin, librarian of Alexandria, who described Eco's books as intellectual journeys that could leave few untouched, the evening was wholly devoted to books, libraries -- and librarians. The discussion progressed under the rubric of a general statement made by Eco towards the beginning: libraries were invented "because we know that we do not have divine powers but we try our best to imitate them." Delivered in English, the lecture revolved around a nominal issue: the fear that computers might eradicate books, an essential concern of the bibliophile in the electronic age. Arguments progressed in a dualistic framework, as is often the case with Eco's thinking -- something attendees were quick to note. Tackling books as not only physical but virtual objects, Eco set out on a mental odyssey back to the time when writing first supplanted visual imagery, he stopped at such developments as Gutenberg's invention, which ended the encyclopaedic role of mediaeval cathedrals. "A mediaeval cathedral was a sort of permanent and unchangeable television programme," he declared. Books were to reign unchallenged until the arrival of that demon, television; and having survived its assault, were to take on the greater threat of computers late in the 20th century. If Eco knows his history, he is equally at home in cyber-space. Full of praise for computers and sober concern regarding their effects on humanity, Eco is conscious of both their exhilarating potential and their limitations. Instead of being arrogantly dismissive, Eco capitalises on the dialectics of print vs computer technology, rationalising the argument for the former's staying power. In a pithy statement he sums up the fact that, in spite of the convenience of hypertext and the astounding capacity of the e-book, the more concrete technology of ink on paper is bound to outlast both innovations: "Books are still the best companions for a shipwreck, or the Day After." How can such wit be refuted? Witticism, humor and lucid logic are, after all, Eco's strongest points. A master of semiotics, he opened and closed with references to the alphabet as intrinsic sign system, inborn symbol of mental life. Juggling concepts of possibility and probability, Eco proved himself a humanist who never loses sight of the limitations of human freedom, or of the fact that humanity -- historical variations aside -- remains the same in essence. Drawing on a range of literary genres from various cultures, he meticulously argued his way through the notion, put forth by Dante and other Italians, that metaphysical flights will remain a possibility. However precise the logic, however concrete the references, attendees found themselves frequently and abruptly crossing the line separating the finite from the infinite. The library was the central metaphor and locus of The Name Of The Rose -- hence the book's relevance to the present lecture. Both novel and lecture reflect Eco's preoccupation with time and place in a cultural and historical context, a procedure into which philosophy and theology are thrown in for good measure. Both betray the indelibly inductive logic of a seasoned scholar. Yet in some sense the lecture went against the grain of The Name Of The Rose. Where the novel was esoteric and obscure, the lecture was lucid and widely accessible; and where the novel raised questions only to leave them unanswered, the force of the argument of the lecture was conclusive: computers might transform the world in which books operate, but they will never kill them. Libraries, the Bibliotheca among them, are here to stay. Above and beyond his knowledge and experience, it was obvious to attendees that Eco is a man who stands in awe of the written word -- and will continue to do so till the end of his life. Not only did he discuss the respect any reader or writer must have for any given text. Paraphrasing Hugo, he also explained that "every great book tells us, that God passed over there, and He passed for the sceptic as well as the believer." And the great scholar's presence notwithstanding, it is not only for his stimulating dialogue that one is grateful. The logistics surrounding the event were excellent. For one immensely helpful feature, a brief biography of Eco as well as the English text of the lecture -- along with an excellent Arabic translation -- were made available beforehand. A press conference broke the ice and provided a more intimate view of the man. Everything was on time, with only the long drawn out questions-and-answers session leaving something to be desired. Any meeting with a writer of Eco's stature is an event to cherish, and a present- day meeting with him at the Bibliotheca Alexandria is a memorable event indeed. The writer teaches English and comparative literature at Alexandria University.
