“A Cast Of Your Skull, Sir, Until The Original Is Available”

 

Lately, I have become obsessed with phrenology.

Wikipedia defines phrenology as:

Phrenology

Phrenology is a pseudomedicine primarily focused on measurements of the human skull, based on the concept that the brain is the organ of the mind, and that certain brain areas have localized, specific functions or modules. Although both of those ideas have a basis in reality, phrenology extrapolated beyond empirical knowledge in a way that departed from science.

***

I define it as one more back-alley side road medicine went down, in search of its modern incarnation. Like using electrical current to cure baldness and communicate with the dead. Like using strychnine to rid the ailing body of disease or trepanning the skull to rid one of the demons causing their illness.

These little forays off into the Unknown may not have proven to be valid modern medical practices, with basis is solid science, but they do make for some fascinating study.

By the end of the 19th century, medicine was getting pretty sophisticated. Relatively speaking. They no longer believed that demons caused illness, but also did not believe that germs, which could not be seen, could have any bearing on the spread of disease. Hand-washing was seen as irrelevant, since germs were akin to witchcraft. Who could imagine that something you couldn’t see could hurt you?

Ahhh, these men of letters were working their way to the truth, but such a circuitous route they took.

Along the way, they stumbled onto phrenology.

I stumbled onto phrenology, as an obsession, thanks, in part, to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and his gripping tale, The Hound of the Baskervilles (whose quote gives this piece its title). Dr. James Mortimer, a “humble MRCS”, and passionate student of phrenology gushingly referred to Sherlock Holmes’s  head thusly:

“I had hardly expected so dolichocephalic a skull or such well-marked supra-orbital development. Would you have any objection to my running my finger along your parietal fissure? A cast of your skull, sir, until the original is available, would be an ornament to any anthropological museum. It is not my intention to be fulsome, but I confess that I covet your skull.”

The skull-coveting line is one of my favorites in all literature.

After coming to work here, in The Haunted Bookshop, I discovered the varying props and publications of phrenology, which were popular in their day. I discovered the Fowler phrenology model, shown here:

1880-90’s ceramic phrenology model

We currently have a beautiful reproduction for sale, along with the latest acquisition, the hand/palm reading model, shown here:

Most recently, I have been fortunate enough to find some gorgeous texts relating to this fascinating, albeit questionable study. My favorite is Descriptive Mentality: From the head, face and hand by Holmes W. Merton, 1899. This is the only text I have ever seen which includes palm reading as part of the “science” that is phrenology.

The most beautiful set I have is a 3 volume set entitled Notes on the United States of North America During a Phrenological Visit in 1838-9-40 by George Combes published in 1841. It appears never to have been read, and is of a condition I rarely see books of this age come from collections. It is astounding. The set is shown here, alongside head and hand model:

(Descriptive Mentality is shown, open, in the foreground of photo)

Notes on The United States… is available at our online bookshop, along with some wonderful photos of the book, its condition and attributes.

It is my hope to be able to study each of these volumes before they go on their way to the next collector, or obsessive, of phrenology. Sometimes, it is most important to remember what isn’t true, in order to find out what is. At least, that’s what we find here, at The Haunted Bookshop. Visit us, sometime, and you’ll see what I mean!

Springing Forward

Spring has come to the Oregon Coast, and with it have come the Spring Breakers! Ahhh this long-awaited group of tourists who visit, play, and leave their disposable income in our coffers. Thank the gods and all for this respite from long, dreary, Winter days when we may not see a single soul, much less make a sale.

This sudden abundance helps to take the edge off not having any employees to take over that I might take a day away from the shop. Today is Day 14 of 36 in a series of work days. I have come to think of every day as Monday. Except that weird day that comes without benefit of Postal delivery. I just call that Not Monday.

While I am schmoozing with my customers, and answering the question (for the millionth time), “Where did you get all this stuff?!”, it is easy to forget how tired I am. There is a real, palpable buzz to interacting with engaged people, curious and eager to learn more. It is such a high to give  a tutorial on Victorian era medicine, or collecting post-war Vaseline glass, or identifying a modern first edition. I am hooked on watching people learn.

’tis the Season for a new idea or project. It is easy to excite people with inspiration for starting or building their collections. This week, alone, I assisted a fledgling Vaseline glass collector pick the first two pieces to begin her lifelong quest. Putting all the glowing glass on sale did not hurt! I also met a couple who discovered our shop on Saturday, and realized that this was the place to populate their collection of original pharmacy and apothecary bottles they have been dreaming about since their collection was new. They went pretty nuts, actually, buying in bulk the first day in person, then overnight on eBay, and then via telephone the next day. Just call me The Enabler.

For my own Inspired New Beginning, a snafu with the DSL line which caused me to have to empty the glass-front antique book case, propelled me to go through it with a fine-tooth comb, and update the listings, re-price and just generally love those glorious and ancient volumes. It is my favorite part of the shop, and while it is an enormous amount of work, it is so rewarding, knowing they are being looked after with great love and care.

So, while a day off is as fictional to me as Narnia, it is all right with me. In the words of a plaque in Mr. Selfridge’s office (Mr. Selfridge, PBS) “Every day counts when building a business“. Spring is inspiring me to make every day count.

I hope it’s inspiring you, too! Spring forward!!!

Book Report~ The Cracked Spine

The Cracked Spine (Scottish Bookshop Mystery #1)
by Paige Shelton

*I was given an eGalley of this book in exchange for an honest review.
In short, I loved this book. I am already ready for more.
I found it so enjoyable because, while I read about 100 of this type of book (cozy, mystery, set in the UK, female protagonist) every year, it was a refreshing take.
The main character was believable and flawed, but not overtly so; she was smart without being technical; she was funny without being even slightly campy; she was interested in finding the truth without being all amateur-sleuth-ish- and didn’t annoy the police as is so often the case with these types of stories. The hint of romance was very subtle, which I appreciated.
I enjoyed her “special power”, and found it to be a subtle device, rather than the point of the story.
I loved the voice of the first person narration. It just felt authentic to me, where so often this is what spoils an otherwise excellent story.
As to the story, its pace was good, the tone was enjoyable and it included every single thing I enjoy in this type of story. As a bookshop owner, I always love stories set in bookshops. But this bookshop is special. There is a lot more to enjoy than simply the books. The family of people working there is wonderful and the characters multi-dimensional.
The murder itself was portrayed in a singularly unspectacular way, which is, in itself, refreshing.
The addition of ghosts and historically accurate discussion of how Edinburgh dealt with witches in its past was a treat, as well.
The only thing I could possibly have wanted from this story, that wasn’t there, was a cat. But, this in no way diminished my enjoyment of this solid mystery.
Highly recommend for fans of the genre.
5 stars

Ghosts Of Bookshops Past

I have mentioned, many times, the suspected paranormal activity that goes on in the shop, and referred to it as “ghosts”. But this is something else, entirely.

These ghosts are the echoes left from the shop this used to be, before it became my own. Ghosts which now color my current events, as I make changes and improvements to the various aspects of the business.

The scariest ghost of all is the Ghost In The Machine~ that is to say, my online database of books for sale. When I took over, there were over 17,000 books listed (0f the, perhaps 40,000 that exist in the shop). Unfortunately, years of spotty recordkeeping riddled the inventory with books listed as available, which, in fact, had been sold years before. Or had been tucked down behind something and were no longer among the Known. The result, an incomplete and inaccurate inventory dating back years. My first task after the remodel was to get a handle on the inventory. And it is ongoing and arduous.

Not everything about owning a bookshop is delightful tea-drinking times. Sometimes it is mind-numbing, tedious, and repetitive. Sometimes it requires Herculean strength. Occasionally, it requires creativity above and beyond that of mere mortals. For example, when a customer asks for a book, a particular book, but knows nothing about it but that “it’s blue“. (No, not a euphemism for risqué; that would have been a proper hint! No, the actual color blue.)

Another ghost in current residence is the ghost of “But that other fella told me…”. When taking over an established business, there will always be repeat customer who aren’t aware of the change. The visual difference in the shop is an instant clue, but it isn’t always so obvious. The previous owner bought loads of kinds of things for the shop that didn’t exactly fit in with the theme. For example, this morning, the customer who came all the way from Eastern Washington (many hundreds of miles from here) to sell me glass insulators, which I, of course, do not buy. “But when we were here 2 years ago, that other fella told me he always buys them!“.  I made sure to do some research for him and hook him up with some likely buyers for his insulators, but I could tell he was disappointed in our exchange.

Still, though, there are other ghosts. Friendlier ghosts. The beautiful collections of things I also purchased, along with the sketchy inventory management. A huge hutch full of antique books, collected over many years. Over 500 author-signed and -inscribed modern firsts. A case full of eerily glowing Vaseline (uranium) glass.

The memories of the former owner teaching me all about identifying books, and amazing me with stories of famous authors he has known. His own lifelong love of books and all things bookish handed down to me like an inheritance, nee a legacy! He taught me absolutely everything about being a bookseller that I know. After being in the business for over 50 years, he had a lot to offer me in the way of knowledge.

This is the Best Ghost. The ghost of all Booksellers who have come before, their wisdom condensed, their passion burning brightly in me. So, when I say it isn’t all sitting around reading books (and it, sadly, isn’t), that is true. But it is a noble and mind-expanding vocation, or even Calling. I am entirely grateful for the ghosts and my chance to commune with them on a daily basis.

In the truest sense of The Haunted Bookshop (Christopher Morley, 1919) the Ghosts are alive and well. I keep them alive, and so do many others. Wherever there are independent bookshops, the ghosts will live on. And I know for sure, they live on, here.

 

“That Was Very Bizarre”

After many, many quiet days, the Shop is, once more, up to its old tricks.

No, not the People in the Attic again, or anything ordinary like that. Today’s installment of Weird comes to us from the Invisible Shattering Glass files

A couple was in the shop this morning, the man in the book room and the woman over near the windows, where much of the glass lives. Each was browsing quietly, when suddenly, the sound of shattering glass filled the shop. I sprang up and went to the place where the woman was standing, frozen and peering around suspiciously. Both her hands were in her pockets and she looked sort of stunned. I looked, first at her, then everywhere else, but no broken glass was to be found.

Now, sure, someone did recently slam into the building with their car, and there are probably items which are teetering precariously on the edges of shelves (though I didn’t find any on my travels). I am concerned every time a large truck goes by that the window involved in the crash may finally give way. But this glass was not to be found. After an exhaustive search, I have yet to know what it was that hurled itself from a shelf and shattered next to the poor, surprised customer.

We played it off, and tried to pretend like it wasn’t as weird as it was. We made light of the moment, and I was sort of hoping she had resumed normal heart-rate by the time they left, but as she left the shop, I heard her say, in a rather anxious voice, “That was very bizarre”.

Yes, Ma’am. It most certainly was. Welcome to my world.

I am 99.5% sure those folks have made their last visit to The Haunted Bookshop.

The Spirits Are Restless

It has been pretty quiet here at the Haunted Bookshop for the past couple of weeks. And, by quiet, I mean the “People from the attic” have left us alone, nothing has been moved from where we left it, overnight, and the shadow people who haunt the corners of our peripheral vision have been few and far between.

That is, until last night.

When I locked up last night, everything was normal. Messy, yes. Cluttered, sure. But normal. This morning, when the boss came in, my office floor was awash in shattered glass. It was as though someone scattered a garbage bag of shards of glass from one end of the room to the other.

There had been a glass shelf leaned up against a bookcase in there for about a month, since the remodel. I had seen it there every morning since we leaned it place. It was out of the “path”, stable in its placement and utterly undisturbed. Then, BOOM. This morning, it was shattered into pieces no larger than a quarter and widely distributed around the room. The glass shelf could not have slid down and broken after the fashion of this scatter pattern. Not without someone using a hammer to arrange it.

What on earth happened?! We thought, you know, Ring Of Fire, earthquake, maybe. But, in this shop there are dozens of shelves of glass, none of which had moved a fraction of an inch. Every other piece of glass was exactly where I left it.

Could it really be an angry haunting?? I am told that disturbances like remodeling can precipitate errant energy bursts, allegedly from spirit activity. But so energetic it can fling broken glass far and wide?

We did replace about 10 light bulbs in the past 24 hours bathing the darkest corners of the shop in bright light for the first time in a long time, as well. Could there possibly be a connection? I don’t know.

Despite having had dozens of dozens of personal experiences, I have yet to find definitive proof of hauntings, poltergeists, or any such activity. But then crazy, unexplained phenomenon occurs, and I am again called to wonder.

I wish I had some authoritative comment to make on this, the latest weird happening. Unfortunately, I do not. I did promise to share the bizarre stories that make up our daily lives around the Haunted Bookshop, and so, here is another.

At least we know that we aren’t “just imagining things”. A floor covered in shattered glass requires no imagination at all…unless you ask your logical self, “how did it get there?”.

Happy Hauntings, Bibliophiles!!!