{"id":45189,"date":"2026-03-06T11:34:25","date_gmt":"2026-03-06T11:34:25","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/media.am\/?p=45189"},"modified":"2026-03-07T06:18:52","modified_gmt":"2026-03-07T06:18:52","slug":"good-fiction-has-become-an-intellectual-workout","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/media.am\/en\/viewpoint\/2026\/03\/06\/45189\/","title":{"rendered":"“Good Fiction Has Become An Intellectual Workout”"},"content":{"rendered":"

Fiction and written materials face significant competition from visual media today. Some might argue that they have already lost this battle and become a niche interest. Writer Karen Antashyan confided in an interview with Media.am. He noted that we live in an era characterized by “surface flights,” in which short videos diminish our ability to concentrate and engage deeply with content. As a result, people are scared by long films or bulky novels.<\/em><\/p>\n

The discussion focuses on the current role of literature, its purpose, the importance of libraries, and the author’s new book.<\/p>\n

Your collection “I Got Away Well” has been published. As you described, it is a documentary stand-up piece written in memoir style. What does this mean?<\/b><\/p>\n

Truth be told, this is only one of the many descriptions of the text that attempts to define its vague genre. In reality, it is pure fiction, drawing on my personal experiences. However, the work’s purpose is broader and entirely literary. When I say “documentary memoir,” I mean that I did not invent the events described; rather, I have reinterpreted and framed them in such a way that, in this context, everyday yore becomes an unexpected opportunity to confront the absurdity, ridiculousness, and epic nature of reality. Ultimately, there is no literature without a personal presence; all writers draw on personal material in one way or another. In this work, I have chosen the straightforward format of documentary stand-up to help individuals come to terms with their own pain and past, not through lamentation or philosophical conclusions, but through laughter or sighs of varying intensity.<\/span><\/p>\n

Does your experience, which you discuss in the book, provide a general understanding of the times, social orders, morals, and generations?<\/strong><\/p>\n

 In general, surviving well seems to be our national pastime, and miraculously escaping from insurmountable evil is our primary mantra. However, in the book, the hero’s sole motivation is to survive his fate. Historical events serve merely as background scenery and secondary circumstances. While the narrative spans a long period, from a Soviet childhood to today’s techno-consumer reality, I would hesitate to claim that it represents a comprehensive historical experience for an entire generation. That would be too ambitious. This is, rather, one man’s humble attempt to document his neglected history, which falls outside the official records. The goal is not to complete those chronicles but rather to achieve self-authentication and self-reconstruction. Armenia’s decades of independence have led us into an endless transition, during which we continuously reject the old and lose it without ever being able to define and genuinely embrace the new. Time continuously flows and builds upon itself, often feeling anonymous to those who experience it. This process of self-reflection is not merely an effort to solve a complex aesthetic puzzle or engage in historical reflection; rather, it serves as a very practical endeavor to locate oneself in the present, combating uncertainty and chaos. In short, the only character who truly navigates this journey successfully in the book is the protagonist.<\/p>\n

You mentioned that you consciously avoided making historical generalizations or assessments. Were you concerned about being accused of distorting the historical record?<\/b><\/p>\n

No, I didn’t have such fears. “I got away well” is neither a historical drama nor an existential fable. To me, it feels more honest to rely on the sovereignty and uniqueness of one’s own story rather than portray oneself as a victim or a hero of great times. The protagonist of my book is a ” small person,” a typical citizen who doesn’t solve global problems and doesn’t aspire to be historic. He appears in a variety of cringeworthy yet ordinary situations, maintaining a sense of naivety about the uniqueness of his experiences. Each event feels like a first, as if it is happening for the first time in the universe. He doesn’t draw grand conclusions or offer sterile truths about life; instead, he takes a breath and reminds himself, “You survived. You survived this time, too.” This personal perspective is not a distortion; rather, it is the only honest way to view the world.<\/p>\n

Many believe that the situation for contemporary writers is fragile; fiction is often integrated into political discourse and interpreted as truth. Have you undergone any self-censorship in this context?<\/b><\/p>\n

Literature should not shy away from being politicized or exploited, nor should it fear being misunderstood or ridiculed, even though the writer often becomes a victim of such reactions. In reality, the only true barometer for any artist who takes their work seriously is whether they believe what they have created is art. Political groups tend to polarize society around their interests and agendas, dividing people into pro and con camps while offering incentives or employing unethical tactics to achieve their goals. Writers are not remembered simply for publishing books and expecting substantive discussion; instead, they are remembered for presenting an authoritative point of view during agenda-driven political discourse.<\/p>\n

In this situation, I always remind myself that if you’re held accountable for something beyond your control, it’s simply manipulation. Unfortunately, we currently see how everything, including artistic expression, is being used to further political agendas. However, the role of a writer is not to serve as an activist or to conform to what are deemed political trends. Instead, it is to explore and express aspects of human life that these political agendas often overlookMy book is not a political manifesto, but it does have political significance because it addresses themes of human freedom and loss, individual choice, and dignity in a system that often reduces a person to just a vote, a customer, a statistic, a taxpayer, or a sympathizer. Literature must reach a person in ways that other fields, such as sociology, political science, science, or even medicine, often cannot. No other discipline holds stronger power and responsibility to confront the genuine pain of the people than literature.<\/p>\n

You mentioned writing about the most untold times. Why do writers, and the press as well, pay little attention to that transitional period?<\/b><\/p>\n

The last 30 to 40 years, while often viewed through the lens of the present, represent a significant period in our lives. Those of us who reflect on this time do not want our experiences to be seen merely as historical events, as we don’t consider ourselves part of history just yet. We are still very much present; we live and act, and although we may feel we haven’t achieved everything we set out to do, we believe there is still potential for future accomplishments. However, this situation won’t last forever. The new generations know little of this recent past. Eventually, we will begin to remember and share those experiences in detail, perhaps even taking pride in them.<\/p>\n

While writing the book, did you appoint functions such as teaching critical thinking or ensuring the material was educational?<\/strong><\/p>\n

I have not set any specific educational or didactic goals, and I do not incorporate them into my books. The time when literature presented undeniable truths and moral lessons from a dominant, divine, or elevated perspective is long gone. We are not engaging with concepts such as good and evil, truth and falsehood, sin and atonement. Rather, we face uncertainty, confusion, boredom, loss, contradiction, and irrationality. My perspective on this is somewhat muddled and contradictory, much like a real person’s experiences in everyday life. Perhaps this flexible, non-categorical viewpoint, approached with humor, can heal trauma more effectively than dry philosophical, analytical, or, especially, moralistic writings.<\/p>\n

Some believe that for a book to compete with music videos, it should at least teach us critical thinking. Do you agree?<\/b><\/p>\n

Fiction and written text are currently in intense competition with visual media, leading some to argue that reading has become a marginal and exotic pursuit. However, the issue extends beyond just critical thinking. We live in the era of “surface flights,” in which short videos distract us and diminish our ability to concentrate and engage deeply with content. Many people are hesitant about long films or lengthy novels because they feel they are wasting time. Life moves quickly, and they fear falling behind. When you lose the ability to concentrate on something for an extended period and truly explore its essence, you also lose your critical perspective.<\/p>\n

Just as we strengthen our muscles through physical exercise, we must also train our attention and concentration. Reading books is now a crucial aspect of self-care, contributing to a healthy lifestyle that helps us navigate the overwhelming flow of information around us. This constant barrage can lead to reactive and superficial thinking, making it even more essential to engage deeply with literature.<\/p>\n

As a contemporary writer, how important is it for you to have your book available in libraries? Do you take steps to ensure that your books are available in libraries, enabling readers who cannot purchase them to access your literature?<\/b><\/p>\n

It is important not only to have representation but to ensure the book lives there. We must acknowledge that traditional libraries, which often resemble book tombs, are no longer appealing. Instead, we should embrace modern educational and cultural spaces, similar to those I have seen in neighboring Georgia. While there are a few initiatives in Armenia, they have mostly been private ventures with limited impact.<\/p>\n

A library should be a place that fosters an environment where people not only go to borrow books but also to enjoy themselves, socialize, reflect, and engage with their community. I often communicate with my readers on social media, and I believe transforming libraries at the state level is crucial to advancing our society.<\/p>\n

Are you suggesting that, as an author, you don’t need a library as an intermediary to connect with readers?<\/strong><\/p>\n

I view both as equally important, but I lack influence over libraries, which prevents my books from being widely represented or checked out. The library should be viewed as a social initiative, backed by the government and various foundations. The best contribution a writer can make is to donate their books to national and public libraries, which is something I consistently do. However, the reality is that libraries in Armenia do not cultivate an inviting atmosphere or prioritize educational purposes. In Georgia, for example, libraries in city parks feature modern designs, with glass enclosures, open spaces, cafes, and free internet access. Libraries can serve as significant educational and community-building hubs, and it is evident that traditional models are no longer appealing. We need to consider new approaches to engage people in these environments, and I believe they will be successful.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Fiction and written materials face significant competition from visual media today. Some might argue that they have already lost this battle and become a niche interest. Writer Karen Antashyan confided in an interview with Media.am. He noted that we live in an era characterized by “surface flights,” in which short videos diminish our ability to Read the full article…<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":186,"featured_media":45112,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[212,14],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-45189","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-featured-post","category-viewpoint"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/media.am\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/45189","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/media.am\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/media.am\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/media.am\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/186"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/media.am\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=45189"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/media.am\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/45189\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":45199,"href":"https:\/\/media.am\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/45189\/revisions\/45199"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/media.am\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/45112"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/media.am\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=45189"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/media.am\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=45189"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/media.am\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=45189"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}