Recently on this blog I wrote about books as a legacy, reflecting on the story of a writer who realised after his mother’s death how important her books were for him and the generations of his family to come (‘Passing on books’). With this concept in mind, have you heard of the Future Library project?

It’s the brainchild of Scottish artist Katie Paterson, who explains on her website:

A forest has been planted in Norway, which will supply paper for a special anthology of books to be printed in one hundred years time. Between now and then, one writer every year will contribute a text, with the writings held in trust, unpublished, until 2114.

The texts will be held in a specially designed room in the New Public Deichmanske Library, Oslo. Tending the forest and ensuring its preservation for the 100-year duration of the artwork finds a conceptual counterpoint in the invitation extended to each writer: to conceive and produce a work in the hopes of finding a receptive reader in an unknown future.

The following film offers more detail on the project.

Future Library, Katie Paterson from Katie Paterson on Vimeo.

Each year, a panel of literary experts and the artist, for as long as she is alive, will pick an outstanding writer for the project. The writer has freedom to write how and what s/he chooses, while reflecting ‘something of this moment in time, so when future readers open the book, they will have some kind of reflection of how we were living in this moment’.

This week, highly respected writer Man Booker prize winner Margaret Atwood was the first to contribute to the Future Library. After a brief ceremony, she handed over a manuscript of special archival paper, which has now been sealed by the library for publication in a century. Other than the book’s title, Scribbler Moon, Margaret will share nothing of the work. She has, however, spoken of her enthusiasm for the project. She told the Guardian:

‘It is the kind of thing you either immediately say yes or no to. You don’t think about it for very long… I think it goes right back to that phase of our childhood when we used to bury little things in the backyard, hoping that someone would dig them up, long in the future, and say, “How interesting, this rusty old piece of tin, this little sack of marbles is. I wonder who put it there?”’

The project has opened the door to speculation on what the world will look like when these ‘the messages in the bottle’ are published in 100 years. Language will have changed; Margaret suggests a paleo-anthropologist may need to translate her work. Will printing even be possible? In case not, the library contains a printing press to make sure those in charge in 2114 can print the books on paper.

For literature, this is an important and far-reaching project. Imagine: some of the contributors have not even been born yet. Imagine: all of the readers of the 100 books have not even been born yet!

For me, there is something beautiful about the legacy – about giving a creative work to your children’s children’s children, and not needing any recognition for it in the now; about having such a sense of hope and faith in the future of humanity that you’ll make a gift in this way. In a culture of ‘I want it now’, this is wonderfully maverick – and I can understand why Katie has said, ‘It’s very exciting as an artist.’

As for the writers involved, it is amazing that they are prepared to toil so hard for a work for which they will receive no recognition and acclaim ­– amazing and liberating. As Margaret explained: ‘What a pleasure. You don’t have to be around for the part when if it’s a good review the publisher takes credit for it and if it’s a bad review it’s all your fault.’

I wonder which of their works the writers involved in this project will ultimately feel the most for – the most pride and pleasure: those they (to coin Churchill) ‘flung out to the public’, or those they quietly put away as a legacy for future readers…