Thursday, November 30, 2023

Spooks and Books: Exploring Literary Haunts

 

        Illustration from The Works of Edgar Allan Poe, 1903, Arthur E. Becher.


Ghost and other supernatural creatures seem drawn to books and to places containing many books – libraries, bookstores, the private studies of scholars and philosophers. We have explored the connection of books and manuscripts to the paranormal in several previous blog posts: books of magic spells (“Spellbinding: Works of Magic in Fantasy Literature”), books that are cursed or that deliver curses (“You Have Been Warned”), and volumes that predict, or even write, the future (“Spellbinding, Part II: Books of Power on Screen”). Some of these volumes are real, while many are fictional works in fictional settings. Either way, they speak of the lure of words, signs, and symbols in conjuring our imagination and perhaps something more! Add to this the fusty atmosphere of old libraries, the dark, eerie recesses of antiquarian bookshops, and the lonely, dimly-lit alcoves of a scholar’s study, and one can see and feel the attraction for the otherworldly.


Forgotten Lore

Libraries full of Edgar Allan Poe’s “quaint and curious volume[s] of forgotten lore” are a staple of horror fiction. Sometimes the book-lined shelves seem to attract the forces of darkness. At other times, the book collector himself is the source of the evil.

In Poe’s poem “The Raven,” the bird – clearly a denizen of the spectral plane – visits a grieving scholar in his study, offering cold comfort.

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore

 

In his novella The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, horror writer H.P. Lovecraft describes the “special” library of an evil occultist, intermixing real and imaginary works:

The bizarre collection, besides a host of standard works … embraced nearly all the cabbalists, daemonologists, and magicians known to man; and was a treasure-house of lore in the doubtful realms of alchemy and astrology … Mr. Merritt turned pale when, upon taking down a fine volume conspicuously labelled as the Qunoon-e-Islam, he found it was in truth the forbidden Necronomicon of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred, of which he had heard such monstrous things some years previously….”


Famed ghost story writer M.R. James litters libraries throughout his tales of ghosts, demons, and cursed texts. In the short story The Tractate Middoth, a young librarian at a “certain famous library” goes to retrieve a book (containing a magical secret) from the Hebrew section for a visitor. He is found in a state of shock. Later he speaks to his friend about the occurrence:

I’ve noticed it the last day or two – a sort of unnaturally strong smell of dust. But no – that’s not what did it for me. It was something I saw…I saw an old parson in a cloak taking [the book] out…Well, I made a bit of a noise on purpose, coughed and moved my feet. He turned around and let me see his face…the upper part was perfectly dry, and the eyes were very deep-sunk; and over them, from the eyebrows to the cheek-bone, there were cobwebs – thick. Now that closed me up, as they say, and I can’t tell you anything more.


The (Re)animated

Boy: “They say this library is haunted.

Bully: By who? Ernest Hauntingway?

(Casper: A New  Beginning, 1997)

Cartoons and comics are rife with magical books, haunted libraries, and bookstores.

Gravity Falls offers a story arc centered on a set of mysterious journals containing information on otherworldly beings, instructions for building an interdimensional gateway, and an incantation for raising the dead. In the Netflix series Hilda, the title character and her friend Frieda find that the Trolberg library contains a labyrinth of secret staircases, passageways, and rooms – all lined with ancient texts – and that the fabled “witches tower” lies beneath all of these.

In the Disney series The Ghost and Molly McGee, a tiny ghost known as a story sprite invades the local bookshop and wreaks havoc by slurping up the words of the books. According to lore introduced in the story, the sprite is responsible for bringing on the Dark Ages by consuming all the books of the day. In The Owl House, young witch-in-training Luz visits the Bonesborough Library where she encounters the demon decimal system, an “encyclopsedia,” and books that come to life under certain astrological conditions. There is also a “forbidden section,” which would seem to sort of defeat the purpose.

And in the episode “Knight Terrors” of Scooby-Doo: Mystery Incorporated, the gang visits the spooky Burlington Library and encounters disturbing phenomena, including a ghost train.

A Japanese book series, The Haunted Bookstore, has been adapted in manga-style. The book shop of the title contains a portal to the spectral dimension; many spirits from Japanese folklore enter to purchase or borrow books.


“Real” hauntings

And what about real literary hauntings? A simple internet search uncovers dozens of “real” library hauntings across the world. Since those events are well covered elsewhere, we won’t discuss them here. Suffice it to say, when next you find yourself in a secluded corner of your favorite library or bookshop and hear rustling, well, it may not be simply pages turning.


A monk surprises a ghost in the abbey library, 1704 German illustration

The Ghostly Tale of Old Book

 

The old Peoria State Hospital, 2010, Courtesy Willjay via Wikimedia Commons


A young man leaned against an old elm tree and wept for the man whose grave he had just dug. This was his habit upon each interment at the Peoria State Hospital, a mental institution in Bartonville, Illinois.

The young man was an inmate at the hospital and its resident gravedigger. He had been born in Austria. He was either mute or did not speak English. No one seemed to know his real name; he was called Manual [sic] Bookbinder after his trade before his hospitalization. He was also called “Old Book,” although he was not old. He was about 31 when he died in 1910.

The ghostly part of the tale of Old Book began at his death. It seems there were many people at his funeral, due to his popularity among patients and staff. Witnesses, including the hospital’s superintendent, swore they heard crying coming from the elm tree; some claim they saw Old Book standing by the tree. So convinced were they, that they opened his coffin to check if he was there. (He was.)

Further embellishments to the tale center on attempts to remove the elm tree from the property; efforts which caused the tree to weep and wail scaring off the groundskeepers. (Perhaps it was a weeping elm.)

Old Book’s grave can be seen at the Peoria State Hospital Cemetery, Marker No. 713. Unlike many inmates, he was given a full headstone with a recent plaque that reads:

IN EACH DEATH HE FOUND GREAT SORROW.

HE WEPT AT EACH PASSING TEARS FOR THE UNLOVED AND FORGOTTEN.

NOW, “OLD BOOK,” WE WEEP FOR YOU.

 

 

This story was originally published on the blog of the American Bookbinders Museum.