Writing to Preserve What Must Not Fade
Created at: August 10, 2025
Write what should not be forgotten. — Isabel Allende
The Call to Remember
At the outset, Allende’s injunction is less a suggestion than a civic summons: to write so that fragile truths survive the erosions of time, power, and neglect. Writing, unlike memory alone, leaves a trace others can revisit; it converts the fleeting into a durable commons. In this sense, the page becomes a lantern—in darkness, it not only recalls the way back, it also shows the way forward.
Allende’s Novels as Living Archives
Extending this idea, Allende’s own work performs the very preservation she advocates. The House of the Spirits (1982) braids intimate family lore with national upheaval after Chile’s 1973 coup, insisting that private grief and public history interlock. Likewise, Paula (1994) addresses her ailing daughter while stitching personal memories into a collective fabric, demonstrating how storytelling safeguards a lineage when spoken memory falters. Through such narratives, loss is acknowledged without allowing the past to vanish.
Testimony as Resistance
From there, consider testimonies where writing stands guard against atrocity. Elie Wiesel’s Night (1956) bears witness to the Holocaust so silence cannot entomb its victims a second time; Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago (1973) exposes state terror; and the testimonio I, Rigoberta Menchú (1983) voices Indigenous struggle in Guatemala. Each text embodies a moral logic: if harm thrives in obscurity, then testimony is a form of justice, ensuring that the record itself becomes a barrier against repetition.
How Writing Counters Forgetting
Meanwhile, psychology teaches that unrecorded memory decays; Hermann Ebbinghaus’s experiments (1885) mapped how swiftly we forget without reinforcement. Writing slows that curve by externalizing recall, and research on expressive writing by James Pennebaker (late 1980s onward) suggests that shaping experience into words can clarify meaning and even aid well-being. Moreover, because memories change as they are retrieved, the act of drafting and revising helps consolidate a truer, more coherent story—one sturdy enough to be shared across generations.
Centering Voices at Risk of Erasure
Yet what we preserve is never neutral; power decides which stories endure. Writing can counter that bias by amplifying those historically pushed to the margins. Zora Neale Hurston’s Mules and Men (1935) preserved Black folklore that elites ignored, while the Combahee River Collective Statement (1977) recorded a Black feminist vision before it could be diluted by memory. In practice, collecting oral histories, translating across languages, and naming sources carefully all ensure that the archive reflects a fuller human chorus.
Stewardship in the Digital Age
Finally, preservation now demands attention to technology’s vulnerabilities. Web pages vanish; files corrupt; platforms die. Efforts like the Internet Archive (founded 1996) and LOCKSS—‘Lots Of Copies Keep Stuff Safe’—show how redundancy, open formats, and good metadata sustain access. Just as crucial, context must travel with content: dates, places, permissions, captions, and alt text help future readers interpret what they inherit. In this way, we write not only to remember, but to make remembrance durable.