July Editor Letter, Hock Literary Post
How Our
Oldest Magic Weaves Together Our World
Once upon a quiet morning, in a little house filled with books and the scent of tea, something rather lovely began. A whisper of an idea. A notion that stories could do more than just entertain. They could connect us, comfort us, and remind us who we are.
That idea became Hollyhock Books. And at the very heart of this idea is a belief as old as time itself: that to tell a story is to perform the most beautiful and essential magic there is.
But this magic did not begin with us, in our cozy nooks with our carefully chosen paper and ink. It began long, long ago, under a canopy of ancient stars, with the first breath of a tale.
Part One: The Ember and the Echo: Stories in the Ancient Hearth
Before there were books, before there were written words, there was the human voice, the listening ear, and the dancing firelight. Imagine, if you will, a deep, velvety night, thousands of years ago. The world is vast, dark, and filled with mysterious sounds. Inside a circle of firelight, a community huddles close. The warmth of the flames pushes back the chill of the unknown, but it is the voice of the storyteller that truly keeps the darkness at bay.
This was the first classroom, the first theatre, the first library. The storyteller, a keeper of lore, would begin. Their voice, a rhythmic instrument, would not merely recite, but perform. They would tell of the great hunt, of the spirit of the stag, of the bravery of the ancestors. They would tell of how the sun was chased by the moon, of how the rivers were carved by a great serpent, of why the bear has a short tail.
This was not mere entertainment. This was survival. These stories, passed from generation to generation in a rich, oral tapestry, were the vessels of everything the people knew. They were maps of the land, manuals for survival, codes of conduct, and the very bedrock of their identity. They explained the unexplainable, giving the wind a name and the thunder a purpose. They wove the community together with shared belief and a common memory, creating what we might call a rich conscious—a collective soul, a shared mind.
This consciousness was not stored in a data cloud, but in the living, breathing hearts of the people. It was a consciousness built on metaphor, on symbol, on the deep, intuitive understanding that the world is interconnected. The story of the generous oak tree that shared its acorns was a lesson in ecology and community. The tale of the proud river that overflowed its banks was a warning about hubris. Every story was a thread in the fabric of their reality, stitched together with wonder and meaning.
For millennia, this is how the human story lived and breathed. It was an oral, communal, and deeply conscious act. The storyteller was the weaver of worlds, the keeper of the flame, and the architect of the tribe’s very soul.
Part Two: The Ink and the Imagination: Stories Through the Ages
As humanity grew, so too did our methods of storytelling. The ember of the oral tale sparked new forms of magic. With the invention of writing, stories could travel beyond the firelight. They could be carved into clay, inked onto papyrus, and painted onto parchment.
In the great libraries of Alexandria, stories became permanent. The epic of Gilgamesh, the fables of Aesop, the philosophical dialogues of Plato—these were no longer fleeting sounds on the air, but captured echoes that could speak across centuries. The rich conscious of a culture could now be preserved, studied, and shared with lands far away. A story written in Rome could be read in Britain, connecting disparate minds through a shared narrative.
Then came the most revolutionary magic of all: the printing press. With a clatter of type and a scent of fresh ink, stories could be replicated, not by the weary hand of a scribe, but by the thousand. For the first time, stories became truly democratic. They could slip into the pockets of merchants, rest on the tables of farmers, and find their way into the hands of children.
This was the era that gave birth to the fairy tale, the novel, the bedtime story. It was in this era that stories began to turn inward, exploring not just the epic battles of kings, but the quiet landscapes of the individual human heart. They became tools for empathy, allowing a reader in a London townhouse to feel the joys and sorrows of a character in the French countryside. The rich conscious was expanding from the tribal to the global, one page at a time.
And through it all, the fundamental purpose remained. Stories were still our compasses, our comfort, our connection. They were just finding new, beautiful forms. They were being bound in leather, illustrated with woodcuts, and whispered in nurseries, continuing their ancient work of reminding us who we are.
Part Three: The Modern Hearth: Where Storytelling Lives Today
Now, we live in an age of lightning. Stories fly through the air, invisible, arriving on screens we hold in our hands. Our firelight is the glow of a tablet; our communal circle is a global network of digital connections. In a world of constant noise, of headlines and alerts, one might wonder if the old magic has faded. Has the ancient art of storytelling been lost in the digital cacophony?
We at Hollyhock Books believe it has not been lost. It has simply come home.
Look closely, and you will see that the hunger for story is as fierce as ever. The blockbuster film is a campfire tale for millions. The television series that captivates a nation is a modern epic, unfolded chapter by chapter. The video game that allows a player to shape a narrative is a return to the interactive, choose-your-own-adventure spirit of the oral tradition. Even the simple, heartfelt post on a social media feed is a tiny story—a moment of connection, a plea for understanding, a small stitch in the vast tapestry of our modern conscious.
But amidst this wonderful chaos, there is a deep and growing yearning for what the old hearth provided: intimacy, quietude, and a sense of rooted wonder. This is where the particular, precious magic of the book—and especially the children's book—finds its power today.
In a world that moves so fast, a storybook is a place to be still. It is a quiet garden where imagination can grow at its own pace. It is a whispered conversation between the author and the reader, with no algorithm in between. When a child (or an adult, for we are all children in the face of a good story) curls up with a book, they are stepping into that ancient circle of firelight. They are pushing back the modern darkness of anxiety and overwhelm with the timeless light of narrative.
This is where we find our purpose. This is who we are. We are storytellers. We are sound makers. We are book lovers and story catchers. We are Hollyhock Books.
And we believe, with all our hearts, that the stories we offer the children of today are not an escape from the world, but a vital map for navigating it.
Part Four: The Hollyhock Way: Stitching Together a Tapestry of Wonder
So, what is the work of a story in a child's life today? It is the same work it has always been, only now it is needed more than ever.
Stories as Comfort and Connection: A child’s world can be big and confusing. Feelings are large and often nameless. But when a child reads about a girl in a clock tower who sews paper hearts, she finds a friend for her own loneliness. When she follows the adventures of a runaway pig, she sees a reflection of her own desire for independence and mischief. These stories say, "You are not alone in feeling this way." They connect the solitary child to the universal human experience, building a bridge of empathy from their heart to the heart of a character, and in doing so, to all hearts. They are a soft place to land when the world feels hard.
Stories as the Architects of a Rich Conscious: Just as the ancient tales gave a tribe its identity, the stories we give our children help them build their own inner world—their moral compass, their sense of right and wrong, their capacity for wonder. A story about a glitter dragon who protects a fragile ecosystem teaches stewardship without ever preaching. A tale of a wild garden where every creature has a place teaches the value of community and diversity. These narratives become the silent, foundational pillars of a child’s character. They are the tools with which a child builds their understanding of a complex world, allowing them to develop a rich, inner conscious guided by compassion, courage, and curiosity.
Stories as Keepers of Magic and Mischief: In a results-driven world, imagination is the most radical act. It is the engine of innovation, the wellspring of joy, and the antidote to despair. The stories we cherish—filled with magic, mischief, and pure, unadulterated whimsy—are a defense of this sacred space. They are a declaration that not everything needs to be useful to be valuable. That a dusty cupboard can be a portal, a paper heart can hold real love, and a quiet morning can be the beginning of something rather lovely. They give children permission to dream, to question, and to believe in the impossible, which is the first step toward creating it.
Stories as a Shared Hearth: And let us not forget the sheer, unadulterated joy of the shared story. The sound of a parent’s voice giving life to words on a page is one of the most powerful bonds we can forge. It is a daily ritual of love. It is a return to the oral tradition, where the storyteller and the listener are united in a bubble of shared attention. In that moment, the busy world falls away, and all that exists is the tale, the voice, and the listening heart. This is where the rich conscious of a family is built—not in grand lectures, but in the gentle, repeated rhythm of shared narrative.
An Ever-After That Never Ends
From the first tales whispered under starlight to the beloved books nestled on a child’s bedside table, the thread of story remains unbroken. It is our oldest technology and our most enduring magic. It is how we remember where we came from, how we understand where we are, and how we dream of where we might go.
At Hollyhock Books, we see ourselves as humble stewards of this endless, ever-unfolding story. We are the gatherers at the modern hearth, carefully selecting and crafting tales that we believe will nourish the young souls in our care. Every story we publish—from the smallest tale of a lost button to the grandest adventure in a sky-ship—is chosen with the hope that it will become a part of a child’s own rich conscious. That it will be a friend in a moment of need, a spark in a moment of curiosity, a guide in a moment of confusion.
For stories are more than words. They are the quiet, persistent magic that connects us, comforts us, and reminds us, over and over again, of the most wonderful tale of all—the story of being human, in all its messy, glorious, and beautiful complexity.
Once upon a quiet morning, in a little house filled with books and the scent of tea, something rather lovely began. A whisper of an idea. A notion that stories could do more than just entertain. They could connect us, comfort us, and remind us who we are.
That idea became Hollyhock Books. And at the very heart of this idea is a belief as old as time itself: that to tell a story is to perform the most beautiful and essential magic there is.
But this magic did not begin with us, in our cozy nooks with our carefully chosen paper and ink. It began long, long ago, under a canopy of ancient stars, with the first breath of a tale.
Part One: The Ember and the Echo: Stories in the Ancient Hearth
Before there were books, before there were written words, there was the human voice, the listening ear, and the dancing firelight. Imagine, if you will, a deep, velvety night, thousands of years ago. The world is vast, dark, and filled with mysterious sounds. Inside a circle of firelight, a community huddles close. The warmth of the flames pushes back the chill of the unknown, but it is the voice of the storyteller that truly keeps the darkness at bay.
This was the first classroom, the first theatre, the first library. The storyteller, a keeper of lore, would begin. Their voice, a rhythmic instrument, would not merely recite, but perform. They would tell of the great hunt, of the spirit of the stag, of the bravery of the ancestors. They would tell of how the sun was chased by the moon, of how the rivers were carved by a great serpent, of why the bear has a short tail.
This was not mere entertainment. This was survival. These stories, passed from generation to generation in a rich, oral tapestry, were the vessels of everything the people knew. They were maps of the land, manuals for survival, codes of conduct, and the very bedrock of their identity. They explained the unexplainable, giving the wind a name and the thunder a purpose. They wove the community together with shared belief and a common memory, creating what we might call a rich conscious—a collective soul, a shared mind.
This consciousness was not stored in a data cloud, but in the living, breathing hearts of the people. It was a consciousness built on metaphor, on symbol, on the deep, intuitive understanding that the world is interconnected. The story of the generous oak tree that shared its acorns was a lesson in ecology and community. The tale of the proud river that overflowed its banks was a warning about hubris. Every story was a thread in the fabric of their reality, stitched together with wonder and meaning.
For millennia, this is how the human story lived and breathed. It was an oral, communal, and deeply conscious act. The storyteller was the weaver of worlds, the keeper of the flame, and the architect of the tribe’s very soul.
Part Two: The Ink and the Imagination: Stories Through the Ages
As humanity grew, so too did our methods of storytelling. The ember of the oral tale sparked new forms of magic. With the invention of writing, stories could travel beyond the firelight. They could be carved into clay, inked onto papyrus, and painted onto parchment.
In the great libraries of Alexandria, stories became permanent. The epic of Gilgamesh, the fables of Aesop, the philosophical dialogues of Plato—these were no longer fleeting sounds on the air, but captured echoes that could speak across centuries. The rich conscious of a culture could now be preserved, studied, and shared with lands far away. A story written in Rome could be read in Britain, connecting disparate minds through a shared narrative.
Then came the most revolutionary magic of all: the printing press. With a clatter of type and a scent of fresh ink, stories could be replicated, not by the weary hand of a scribe, but by the thousand. For the first time, stories became truly democratic. They could slip into the pockets of merchants, rest on the tables of farmers, and find their way into the hands of children.
This was the era that gave birth to the fairy tale, the novel, the bedtime story. It was in this era that stories began to turn inward, exploring not just the epic battles of kings, but the quiet landscapes of the individual human heart. They became tools for empathy, allowing a reader in a London townhouse to feel the joys and sorrows of a character in the French countryside. The rich conscious was expanding from the tribal to the global, one page at a time.
And through it all, the fundamental purpose remained. Stories were still our compasses, our comfort, our connection. They were just finding new, beautiful forms. They were being bound in leather, illustrated with woodcuts, and whispered in nurseries, continuing their ancient work of reminding us who we are.
Part Three: The Modern Hearth: Where Storytelling Lives Today
Now, we live in an age of lightning. Stories fly through the air, invisible, arriving on screens we hold in our hands. Our firelight is the glow of a tablet; our communal circle is a global network of digital connections. In a world of constant noise, of headlines and alerts, one might wonder if the old magic has faded. Has the ancient art of storytelling been lost in the digital cacophony?
We at Hollyhock Books believe it has not been lost. It has simply come home.
Look closely, and you will see that the hunger for story is as fierce as ever. The blockbuster film is a campfire tale for millions. The television series that captivates a nation is a modern epic, unfolded chapter by chapter. The video game that allows a player to shape a narrative is a return to the interactive, choose-your-own-adventure spirit of the oral tradition. Even the simple, heartfelt post on a social media feed is a tiny story—a moment of connection, a plea for understanding, a small stitch in the vast tapestry of our modern conscious.
But amidst this wonderful chaos, there is a deep and growing yearning for what the old hearth provided: intimacy, quietude, and a sense of rooted wonder. This is where the particular, precious magic of the book—and especially the children's book—finds its power today.
In a world that moves so fast, a storybook is a place to be still. It is a quiet garden where imagination can grow at its own pace. It is a whispered conversation between the author and the reader, with no algorithm in between. When a child (or an adult, for we are all children in the face of a good story) curls up with a book, they are stepping into that ancient circle of firelight. They are pushing back the modern darkness of anxiety and overwhelm with the timeless light of narrative.
This is where we find our purpose. This is who we are. We are storytellers. We are sound makers. We are book lovers and story catchers. We are Hollyhock Books.
And we believe, with all our hearts, that the stories we offer the children of today are not an escape from the world, but a vital map for navigating it.
Part Four: The Hollyhock Way: Stitching Together a Tapestry of Wonder
So, what is the work of a story in a child's life today? It is the same work it has always been, only now it is needed more than ever.
Stories as Comfort and Connection: A child’s world can be big and confusing. Feelings are large and often nameless. But when a child reads about a girl in a clock tower who sews paper hearts, she finds a friend for her own loneliness. When she follows the adventures of a runaway pig, she sees a reflection of her own desire for independence and mischief. These stories say, "You are not alone in feeling this way." They connect the solitary child to the universal human experience, building a bridge of empathy from their heart to the heart of a character, and in doing so, to all hearts. They are a soft place to land when the world feels hard.
Stories as the Architects of a Rich Conscious: Just as the ancient tales gave a tribe its identity, the stories we give our children help them build their own inner world—their moral compass, their sense of right and wrong, their capacity for wonder. A story about a glitter dragon who protects a fragile ecosystem teaches stewardship without ever preaching. A tale of a wild garden where every creature has a place teaches the value of community and diversity. These narratives become the silent, foundational pillars of a child’s character. They are the tools with which a child builds their understanding of a complex world, allowing them to develop a rich, inner conscious guided by compassion, courage, and curiosity.
Stories as Keepers of Magic and Mischief: In a results-driven world, imagination is the most radical act. It is the engine of innovation, the wellspring of joy, and the antidote to despair. The stories we cherish—filled with magic, mischief, and pure, unadulterated whimsy—are a defense of this sacred space. They are a declaration that not everything needs to be useful to be valuable. That a dusty cupboard can be a portal, a paper heart can hold real love, and a quiet morning can be the beginning of something rather lovely. They give children permission to dream, to question, and to believe in the impossible, which is the first step toward creating it.
Stories as a Shared Hearth: And let us not forget the sheer, unadulterated joy of the shared story. The sound of a parent’s voice giving life to words on a page is one of the most powerful bonds we can forge. It is a daily ritual of love. It is a return to the oral tradition, where the storyteller and the listener are united in a bubble of shared attention. In that moment, the busy world falls away, and all that exists is the tale, the voice, and the listening heart. This is where the rich conscious of a family is built—not in grand lectures, but in the gentle, repeated rhythm of shared narrative.
An Ever-After That Never Ends
From the first tales whispered under starlight to the beloved books nestled on a child’s bedside table, the thread of story remains unbroken. It is our oldest technology and our most enduring magic. It is how we remember where we came from, how we understand where we are, and how we dream of where we might go.
At Hollyhock Books, we see ourselves as humble stewards of this endless, ever-unfolding story. We are the gatherers at the modern hearth, carefully selecting and crafting tales that we believe will nourish the young souls in our care. Every story we publish—from the smallest tale of a lost button to the grandest adventure in a sky-ship—is chosen with the hope that it will become a part of a child’s own rich conscious. That it will be a friend in a moment of need, a spark in a moment of curiosity, a guide in a moment of confusion.
For stories are more than words. They are the quiet, persistent magic that connects us, comforts us, and reminds us, over and over again, of the most wonderful tale of all—the story of being human, in all its messy, glorious, and beautiful complexity.
And that, dear reader, is a story that is only just beginning.
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