ի՞նչ

Inch Press has a single goal: to help make Armenian literature accessible to readers of English, little by little, inch by inch.

Inch is a zine featuring just one short story an issue. They’re meant to be shared, compact, and affordable. We believe that short fiction, when translated well and cared for in print, can serve as both an entry point and a lifeline: a way in for curious readers unfamiliar with Armenian literature, and a thread of continuity for those seeking connection across distance, generation, or diaspora.

The name Inch is both a measure and a question. It nods to the small size of our publication (8.5” x 5.5”) and to the Armenian word “ինչ,” meaning “what.”

Armenian literature, in all its dialects and displacements, holds centuries of complexity: stories shaped by empire and genocide, migration and exile, ordinary life and cosmic grief. Too often, these stories remain untranslated, out of print, or unheard outside their immediate linguistic context. Inch exists to help change that.

We work closely with translators who understand that a good translation is an act of creative fidelity—not a word-for-word mimicry, but a work of art in its own right. Some of the writers we feature may be widely known in Armenia; others may be emerging voices, or long overlooked. What matters most is the quality of the writing, the clarity of the translation, and the spark that makes a story worth telling again, in another tongue.

Inch is not affiliated with any political or religious institution. We do not represent a single vision of “Armenianness.” Instead, we are interested in plurality—in the many textures of Armenian life, language, and imagination. We publish stories that speak to the complexity of life, stories that are funny, fractured, traditional, experimental. We welcome stories that trouble borders and timelines, that draw on folk tales or genre conventions or entirely new forms.

We publish because we want readers—both Armenian and not—to see that Armenian literature is not a sealed archive, but a living body. We publish because we believe the act of translation is one of radical hospitality, and because the short story, at its best, carries a kind of density that lingers long after the final line.

Inch is small by design. It asks for attention, not spectacle. And while its scale is modest, its purpose is expansive: to amplify voices that deserve to be heard, and to help build a literary bridge between languages, cultures, and communities.

We hope you’ll read with us.