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Prologue

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‘The Book of Thoth ’

This book is like no other. It will not sit easily on a library’s shelf for it can never be classified. No code will
ever be seen on its spine or any bytes found on a computer disc. It does not fit into any genre of literature.

It is not a novel for what it says is the truth; nor is it a history because it reads like a work of fiction; neither
is it a biography for it spans the millennia of civilisations; or an autobiography for I am but a ghost; and in
no sense is it a guide, although it contains photographs and illustrations. An epic poem it is not - despite
the momentous events of which it tells and the verses found in its pages. A play it might be, for its
characters are actors on a stage, but it cannot be, for its script was written by Ancient Gods. It is none of
these: and yet it is all of them.

The monumental tale which is contained within - and I use these words with great trepidation for I have
experienced much difficulty in my many attempts to accurately and faithfully describe the book you are
about to read. I eventually decided that they were those best suited to describe what has been written,
but with the caveat that they are used to mean - a true story, especially one that might have been invented
or thought difficult to believe; but also, one which is both of great importance and immense in meaning. It

is in every sense a book that covers all of literature’s many facets and as such will have appeal to anyone
who wishes to lose themselves in the wonder of words; those written to explain events and understand
people; words that lie beyond life’s banal use of them; words that reach out across the ages to all that we
should revere and cherish; words that are rarely used, those that have been sacrificed before the altar of

bad education and the worship of the digital age.

When I first dipped my nib into the inkwell on my desk and wrote its first words I felt an overwhelming
urge to complete the task at hand - no matter what, and despite the many and varied restrictions placed
upon me, one of which, forbade the use of any form of modern tools, and permitted only the same media
that were available to the great writers of the past; whose works my benefactor insists would never have

been allowed to sit on booksellers’ shelves or be sold ‘online’ had they been penned today. A fate, I often
feared would happen to this present volume. You my readers may well ask why I agreed to write such a
book when I could make no use of those means which make things apparently so easy nowadays; and that
are an accepted part of today’s world. My benefactor was of the unshakeable belief that such
technological inventions have made people lazy, and above all have deprived them of the ability to do the
simplest of educational tasks; those same tasks which formed the basic tenets of learning for thousands of

years – the skill of reading, the power of the spoken word, a proficiency in handwriting and the competent
application of mathematics to the solution of everyday problems. Your incredulity will be further
compounded if I mention that I had asked for no recompense to complete my task, nor indeed was any
offered. I need no defence as to my actions in receiving no financial inducement, something of which I am
aware is totally at odds with present day values; save it to say, my reward is in the book I have written.

© A. A. Aziz 2019 1