Gostan Zarian
Constant, or Kostan Zarian was an Armenian writer who produced short lyric poems, long narrative poems of an epic cast, manifestos, essays, travel impressions, criticism, and fiction. The genre in which he excelled, however, was the diary form with long autobiographical divagations, reminiscences and impressions of people and places, interspersed with literary, philosophical and historical meditations and polemics.
Early years
Kostandin Yeghiazarian was born in 1885 in Shamakhi. Through his mother, he was first cousins with the author Alexander Shirvanzade and the actor Hovhannes Abelian. His father, Christopher Yeghiazarov, was a prosperous general in the [Imperial Russian language|Russian Army|Russian Army], "a strong man, profoundly Christian and Armenian," who spent most of his life fighting in the mountains of the Caucasus. He died when Zarian was four years old, which prompted his family to move to Baku. He was then separated from his mother and placed with a Russian family, who enrolled him in a Russian gymnasium.After attending the Russian Gymnasium of Baku, in 1895, when he was ten, he was sent to the College of Saint Germain in Asnières, near Paris. He continued his studies in Belgium, and, after obtaining a doctorate in literature and philosophy from the Free University (Université libre) of Brussels, he spent about a year writing and publishing verse in both French and Russian, delivering lectures on Russian literature and drama, and living a more or less bohemian life among writers and artists. Zarian became involved in the Russian Social Democratic Party, where he became personally acquainted with Vladimir Lenin. After 1909, he was a political exile in Europe, as the tsarist government had reportedly banned his return to the Caucasus because of his revolutionary activities, for which he spent a year and a half in a German jail. He published a few poems in Russian in the revolutionary magazine Raduga and contributed to Belgian publications with prose, poems and critical essays in French. Speaking of this period in his life, Zarian wrote: "We used to have cheap food with Lenin in a small restaurant in Geneva, and today, a syphilitic boozer with his feet on a chair and hand on revolver is telling me: 'You counter-revolutionary fanatic nationalist Armenian intellectuals are in no position to understand Lenin.'" In addition to Lenin, Zarian also met and befriended such poets, artists, and political thinkers as Guillaume Apollinaire, Pablo Picasso, Georgi Plekhanov, Giuseppe Ungaretti, Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Paul Éluard, Fernand Léger, as well as the Belgian poet and literary critic Emile Verhaeren. It was Verhaeren who advised him to study his own mother tongue and write in the language of his ancestors if he wanted to reveal his true self. Heeding his advice, Zarian studied Classical Armenian and Modern Armenian with the Mekhitarists on the island of San Lazzaro degli Armeni in Venice, where he also published Three Songs, a book of poems in Italian, one of which, titled La Primavera, was set to music by Ottorino Respighi and first performed in 1923.
Zarian then moved to Constantinople, which was then the most important cultural center of the Armenian diaspora, though he often travelled between Venice and Constantinople. During such a trip, when leaving Constantinople on the ship S.S. Montenegro in 1912, he met his future wife Takuhi Shahnazarian and married her in Venice on December 4, 1912, before returning to Constantinople with her two months later. In 1914, together with Daniel Varoujan, Hagop Oshagan, Kegham Parseghian, and, he founded the literary periodical Mehian, which means pagan temple in Armenian. This constellation of young firebrands became known as the Mehian writers, and like their contemporaries in Europe—the French surrealists, Italian futurists, and German expressionists—they defied the establishment, fighting against ossified traditions and preparing the way for the new. "In distant cities people argued and fought around our ideas," wrote Zarian, "ignorant school principals had banned our periodical. Well-known scholars looked upon us with suspicion. They hated us but did not dare to say anything openly. We were close to victory..." The tone of the publications in Mehian was politically, aesthetically and religiously radical, with a strong influence from German philology—with Zarian specifically advocating an anti-Semitic idea that was present in many of his later works of fiction: that Armenians were an Aryan people who needed to overcome the Semite within themselves.
A year later, the Young Turk government decided to exterminate the entire Armenian population of Turkey. The Armenian genocide that followed claimed 1–1.5 million victims, among them 200 of the most prominent Armenian poets and authors, including two of the Mehian writers, Varoujan and Parseghian. Zarian was able to escape to Bulgaria before the closing of the borders in November 1914, and then to Italy, establishing himself in Rome and later in Florence.
In 1919, as a special correspondent to an Italian newspaper, he was sent to the Middle East and Armenia. He returned to Constantinople in late 1921 and there, together with Vahan Tekeyan, Hagop Oshagan, Schahan Berberian, and Kegham Kavafian, he founded another literary periodical, Partsravank, in 1922. He also published a second book of poems, The Crown of Days.
Philosophy
Across his philosophical reflections, epic poetry, and literary practice, Zarian articulates a coherent worldview grounded in the primacy of spirit, myth, and collective memory. His texts reveal a philosophy that stands in deliberate opposition to materialism, scientific reductionism, ideological instrumentalization of art, and superficial nationalism. For Zarian, both the human being and the nation can exist meaningfully only when rooted in a living myth that orders life, awakens inner forces, and connects humanity to a sacred cosmic and historical continuum.At the foundation of Zarian’s thought lies the conviction that reality is fundamentally spiritual rather than material. While acknowledging the power and utility of modern science, he insists that scientific knowledge remains partial, provisional, and quantitative. Science describes mechanisms but cannot grasp the essence of existence, the meaning of human destiny, or the inner life of the soul. When scientific thinking is absolutized and applied beyond its proper domain, it becomes dehumanizing, reducing the human being to a mechanical object subject to economic, political, or technological forces. In such a worldview, the individual is left exposed, stripped of inner orientation, battered by blind and uncontrollable energies. Zarian does not reject science itself; rather, he rejects scientism—the belief that science alone can explain and govern all dimensions of life.
This spiritual crisis, in Zarian’s view, arises primarily from the loss of myth. Myth, for him, is not legend, fantasy, or aesthetic ornament, but a living ontological force that flows from the collective subconscious of a people. Myth provides inner equilibrium, ethical orientation, and existential meaning. It connects the individual to ancestral memory and cosmic order. When myth disappears, life becomes fragmented, fearful, and disoriented. Modern humanity, equipped with precise instruments yet lacking inner mastery, resembles a sailor who can measure the storm but cannot command it. This diagnosis applies universally, yet it is particularly urgent for Armenians, whose historical traumas and displacements have weakened the continuity of their mythic foundations.
Zarian’s philosophy of the nation follows directly from this understanding. He rejects political, linguistic, or architectural definitions of national identity when they are severed from spiritual substance. Writing foreign ideologies in Armenian, or imitating ancient forms without inner meaning, does not constitute genuine Armenian culture. A nation exists as a metaphysical organism, sustained by its collective unconscious and expressed authentically through myth, epic, and symbolic imagination. True national art emerges only when it is the immediate and unaltered expression of this inner source. Armenia, therefore, is not confined to geography or statehood; it exists wherever the Armenian spiritual imperative remains alive.
In Zarian’s work, landscape itself is sacred and formative. Mountains, rivers, storms, and stone are not passive settings but active spiritual forces. The Armenian Highlands—Ararat, Aragats, the Araxes, Sassoun—are embodiments of cosmic energies that shape consciousness and character. Nature and spirit are inseparable; geography becomes destiny not in a deterministic sense, but as a spiritual dialogue between land and people. This worldview dissolves modern dualisms between subject and object, humanity and nature, history and myth.
Heroism, as presented in Zarian’s epic vision, is not political militancy or ideological loyalty. It is an inner condition: endurance, spiritual clarity, creative fire, and fidelity to destiny. His heroes are not servants of programs or parties but carriers of ancestral energy and ethical resolve. This inward, mythic conception of heroism explains the tension evident in the Soviet internal review, which criticizes Zarian for failing to align historical narrative with ideological expectations. Zarian’s heroes cannot be easily mobilized for political ends because they belong to a different order of meaning altogether.
Art, in this philosophy, functions as incantation rather than representation. Poetry and epic speech are ritual acts meant to awaken dormant forces, restore memory, and reconnect the individual with the collective soul. Words are not descriptive tools but performative energies. Repetition, rhythm, invocation, and musicality are essential because language itself becomes a sacred action. The poet assumes the role of priest, magician, and guardian of continuity, mediating between myth and the present moment.
Finally, Zarian’s conception of time rejects linear historicism. Past, present, and future coexist mythically, sustained by spiritual currents that flow beneath surface decay. The metaphor of underground waters feeding a damaged lake in one of his poems captures this vision precisely: even when visible forms deteriorate, the source endures. Renewal is not guaranteed by progress or ideology, but it remains possible through remembrance and reawakening.
In sum, the philosophy expressed across his texts affirms that human dignity, national existence, and creative vitality depend on reconnecting with living myth, collective spiritual memory, and sacred landscape. Zarian’s thought resists both modern materialism and shallow traditionalism, offering instead a tragic yet hopeful vision in which continuity is preserved not by institutions or doctrines, but by the enduring power of spirit.
Concept of ''Voki (Ոգի)''
In the work of Armenian novelist and thinker Gostan Zarian, the term voki represents more than a simple lexical meaning; it embodies a philosophical and cultural essence, a living force that animates both individuals and the collective identity of a people. Found most prominently in his novel The Ship on the Mountain, Zarian’s usage of voki is tied to the Armenian notion of inner spirit or life force, reflecting resilience, creativity, and existential depth. It is not a static quality but a dynamic, transformative energy, intimately connected to the struggles and aspirations of those who carry it.Zarian portrays voki as the inner core of cultural vitality. It is the sustaining power behind language, tradition, and myth—a force that preserves meaning even in the face of historical trauma, displacement, or cultural fragmentation. Through metaphors of climbing arduous mountains or navigating harsh landscapes, Zarian emphasizes that voki requires effort, endurance, and conscious cultivation. It is both a personal and collective responsibility, reflecting the active engagement of a people with their own spiritual and cultural life. This makes voki not merely an abstract concept but a living principle that guides moral, creative, and existential action.
The philosophical depth of voki becomes even clearer when examined in relation to Zarian’s broader artistic concerns. First, myth serves as a primary vehicle for expressing voki. For Zarian, myths are not relics of the past but living vessels of collective memory and spirit. They transmit the existential experiences, values, and imagination of a people across generations, allowing voki to manifest in both thought and action. Through myth, individuals connect with ancestral wisdom while engaging in the creative reinterpretation of cultural heritage, illustrating the dynamic interplay between tradition and present vitality.
Second, landscape plays a symbolic and existential role. Zarian’s Armenian settings—mountains, rivers, and plains—are more than backdrops; they are expressions of the spiritual and cultural forces that shape human life. Characters are molded by the land as much as by circumstance, suggesting that voki is inseparable from environment. The endurance of nature mirrors the resilience of human spirit, reinforcing Zarian’s vision of cultural vitality as both grounded in lived reality and sustained by metaphysical energy.
Finally, voki is deeply tied to Armenian identity. Zarian positions cultural belonging not merely as a matter of ethnicity or political affiliation but as a spiritual continuum, connecting individuals to history, myth, and communal life. Through voki, Armenians can maintain a sense of coherence, purpose, and creative agency, even amid adversity. It functions as both anchor and compass: an anchor to heritage, and a compass guiding ethical and artistic choices in the present.
In sum, Zarian’s concept of voki is a multifaceted, existential principle—a synthesis of spirit, myth, landscape, and cultural identity. It is at once philosophical, ethical, and poetic, shaping his literary vision and offering a lens through which to understand the Armenian experience and, more broadly, the human condition. To engage with voki is to confront the enduring power of the human spirit, to recognize its capacity for resilience and creativity, and to participate in the ongoing renewal of cultural and existential life. Zarian’s work teaches that true vitality—individual and collective—emerges not from mere survival but from the active cultivation of spirit, meaning, and cultural consciousness.
Influences
At the heart of Zarian’s philosophy lies a Nietzschean revolt against modernity’s spiritual exhaustion. Like Nietzsche, Zarian diagnoses contemporary civilization as suffering from the collapse of meaning following the death of its sustaining myths. His insistence that modern humanity is assaulted by blind, uncontrollable forces echoes Nietzsche’s critique of mechanized rationality and herd morality. Science, for Zarian, has grown tyrannical not because it is false, but because it claims absolute authority. This mirrors Nietzsche’s attack on positivism and scientism as disguised metaphysics—systems that deny their own value-laden foundations while draining life of creative vitality.Zarian’s emphasis on creative strength, inner sovereignty, and heroic affirmation further reveals Nietzschean influence. His heroes—whether mythic ancestors, epic figures, or poetic voices—are not moral exemplars in a Christian sense, nor ideological agents in a political one. They are bearers of inner fire, embodiments of force shaped by destiny and land. This conception resonates with Nietzsche’s vision of the creator who affirms life tragically, without recourse to transcendental consolation. Yet Zarian departs from Nietzsche in a crucial way: whereas Nietzsche seeks the individual Übermensch, Zarian locates heroic becoming within the collective soul of a people, transmitted through myth rather than personal will alone.
Oswald Spengler’s influence is equally visible, particularly in Zarian’s understanding of cultures as organic, living entities governed by inner form rather than linear progress. Like Spengler, Zarian rejects universal history and Enlightenment teleology. Civilizations, in his view, are not interchangeable stages in a single human narrative but distinct spiritual organisms, each possessing its own symbols, rhythms, and destinies. Armenian culture, therefore, cannot be judged by external standards—whether European rationalism or Soviet ideology—without distortion.
Zarian’s repeated insistence that architecture, literature, and language lose authenticity when stripped of their originating worldview parallels Spengler’s critique of cultural “pseudomorphosis,” in which a civilization adopts foreign forms that suffocate its native spirit. His condemnation of superficial nationalism—building “Armenian-style” structures or writing in Armenian while expressing alien ideas—directly reflects Spengler’s warning that a culture in decline often mimics its past rather than reanimating its inner form. For Zarian, genuine renewal can only arise from reawakening the mythic core, not from imitation or ideological repackaging.
Later years
Following the establishment of Soviet rule in Armenia, Zarian moved there and taught comparative literature at the Yerevan State University from 1922 to 1924. Thoroughly disappointed with the Soviet state, in 1924 he again went abroad where he conducted a nomadic existence, living in Paris, Rome, Florence, the Greek island of Corfu, the Italian island of Ischia, and New York City. On August 31, 1934, he married his second wife, the American artist. In New York he taught the history of Armenian culture at Columbia University and edited the English-language periodical The Armenian Quarterly which lasted only two issues, but was the first Armenian studies journal in the United States and published the work of such scholars as Sirarpie Der Nersessian, Henri Grégoire, Giuliano Bonfante, and writers such as Marietta Shaginyan. From 1952 to 1954 he taught history of art at the American University of Beirut. Following an interlude in Vienna and Rapallo, he taught at Berkeley.Friendship with Lawrence Durrell
The British author Lawrence Durrell and Zarian were friends for many years, exchanging letters between 1937 and 1951 in which Durrell addressed Zarian as "Dear Master" and "Chère Maître," and spending time together in Greece and Italy, Corfu, Ischia and Cyprus. They shared a fascination with classical Greek culture and the felt need for an existential reconnection to it via Hellenic culture and geography, self-realization through physical health and spiritual integration. In 1952, Durrell wrote an essay entitled Constant Zarian: Triple Exile in the magazine The Poetry Review in which he wrote that:It was no conscious choice that made Zarian a classical man—it was the development of a natural style of mind, founded in bitter experience and in a tenacious belief that if man was to be saved from destruction he stood in need of major artists of a new type—responsible men. His own task was no longer to reject, to criticize, to whine—but in the deepest sense of the word, to submerge in the swift currents of history and to give their impulse direction and form. "To endure and contribute"—that was the new motto: and he had never deviated by a hairsbreadth from it in his attitude to his work and his people. He was now a triple exile: exiled by both Czarist and Bolshevik; and doubly exiled from the current of European thought by his choice of language.
In a 1950 poem, Durrell describes Zarian in Ischia:
We came originally here to see
A character from Prospero called C.
Zarian,
Then wild and roguish literary man
Who with his painter wife lives on this island,
A life romantic as one could in…Thailand.
Together we tasted every wine,
Most of the girls
And some small favours accident affords
To such poor chaps as we—as deal in words
You get here by super motor-launch
Crowded with chattering girls from Naples O
Such animation such colossal brio
It makes one feel much younger just to see,
At least so Zarian says.
He scales a mountain like a wild chamois
Despite a certain—bulk—avoirdupois
And swears Per Baccho loud as any peasant:
Together we've enjoyed a very pleasant
Month of mad cookery and writing talk,
Such food, such wine—a wonder we can walk.
Final years
While teaching at UC Berkeley, Zarian was visited by the Catholicos of All Armenians Vazgen I, who asked him to return to Armenia after many years of exile. In 1963 Zarian once more returned to Soviet Armenia where he worked at the Charents Museum of Literature and Arts in Yerevan. He died in Yerevan on December 11, 1969, leaving behind three children from his first marriage, Vahe, Armen, and Nevart Zarian, and a son from his second marriage, Hovan Zarian.Legacy
Zarian is remembered today as one of the most distinctive and spiritually ambitious figures in modern Armenian literature. Zarian’s life—marked by extensive education in Europe, intellectual engagement with world cultures, and a lifelong search for the essence of Armenian identity—continues to fascinate scholars and readers alike. In Armenia today, Zarian is increasingly recognized not just as a writer, but as a cultural thinker with enduring relevance.In 2025, the National Library of Armenia hosted a major exhibition dedicated to the 140th anniversary of his birth, displaying more than fifty books by him in Armenian and foreign languages, photographs, archival documents, and the writer’s original birth certificate. The opening was accompanied by public lectures by leading scholars, demonstrating sustained institutional interest in his work and ideas. This institutional attention builds on earlier efforts to preserve and study Zarian’s legacy: in 2019, his personal archives were donated to the Mashtots Matenadaran, Armenia’s chief repository of manuscripts and rare books. The collection includes his published and unpublished writings, letters, and notes in multiple languages, and is being preserved to support future scholarship and publication.
Outside of Armenia, Zarian’s impact is felt in the diasporan literary world. As early as the mid-20th century, he was known internationally through his poetry written in French and Italian, including his early poem “The Sorrow of the Earth and the Sorrow of the Heaven for Singing Three Songs,” which brought him attention in European literary circles. He lived and wrote in cultural capitals across Europe and the United States, and his works were published and reprinted in Armenian communities abroad before he became widely known in Armenia itself.
Today Zarian is remembered at occasional symposia, for example at Teatro Ca'Foscari of the Ca’ Foscari University of Venice in 2023.
In a cultural moment when questions of identity, memory, and national purpose remain urgent for Armenians both at home and abroad, Zarian’s work endures not merely as literary art but as a symbol of spiritual and intellectual searching. His legacy lives in the archives, in classrooms, and in ongoing public dialogue about what it means to be Armenian in a changing world.
Selected works
Three Songs Crown of Days The Traveler and His Road West Cities The Bride of Tetrachoma Bancoop and the Bones of the Mammoth Countries and Gods The Ship on the Mountain- ''The Island and a Man''