Friday, 21 August 2015

Second-hand books: Reasons not to be Annoyed

The Christmas Companion, 1939

Luke McKernan has written about second-hand books, specifically those aspects he finds annoying, and has come up with a list containing 19 things that to a greater or lesser extent irritate him.  Some of these I agree with, but on others I have to take issue (of a fairly mild sort; this isn’t going to turn into a flame war).   The heart of my disagreement is that Luke sees a second-hand book ideally as something which floats free of its context, whereas I embrace that context and approach the book as an object with a history.  This may contradict the point I made some time ago, in response to another of Luke’s blog posts, about it being the words that count, not their container, hence my general lack of sentimentality about the vehicle that delivers them; but I added that I am most definitely a bibliophile, and that means a deep affection for books as objects.  I can melt at the sight of a fine binding with the best of them, but also find pleasure in what Luke sees as warts.  So, what does he say, and how do I feel about those 19 things that so vex him?  I’ll run through them in reverse order (shortening the longer ones).  His comments are italicised.

19. Library stamp – a book stamped as belonging to a library is no longer a real book. Ditto school books

No longer real?  Well, there may be some subtle metaphysical issue here, but how can a library stamp affect the utility of a book?  There are occasionally sound reasons to avoid such volumes – the information inside may be redundant, or they may score high on the yuk scale (thank you the inventor of anti-bac spray for helping with grime and germs), but stamps might be of interest.  Knowing that a discarded book came from Croydon Public Libraries in the 2000s might not set the pulse racing, but if it started life in (to use a random example of my own) W T Stead’s Borderland Library, that to my mind contributes an extra layer.  School books are real too, but may well fall into the redundant category and be off the yuk scale altogether.  On the other hand my copy of Kennedy’s Latin Primer is identical to the one I had at school, with the exception of the cover, and would not be a jot different if it had a school stamp in it.

18. Faber paperbacks – so badly bound; the publisher seems never to have considered how the books were to be opened. Stick to the hardbacks.

A bit harsh; I don’t find Faber’s paperbacks significantly better or worse to read than other publishers’.  At least they remain intact.  What is annoying is glue that disintegrates so that pages loosen, and acid paper that becomes brittle.

17. Vanity publishing – the puzzling this is, who acquired them in the first place before disposing of them?

It depends on the content.  Vanity publishing is a term that has become somewhat looser with the advent of digital self-publishing and an expansion of the ways an author can get a book before an audience.  The difference is that a vanity publisher takes a huge chunk of money for doing the job, usually badly, and there is an element of exploitation of the author.  That doesn’t necessarily mean the book is worthless, though as with self-publishing the chances are that it is less polished than it would be had it undergone proper editorial scrutiny.

16. Book society reprints – all those book society reprints sold as special offers through magazines … I know they look exactly like the real thing, but they’re not. I know I’m being snobbish about it, but the simple fact of the matter remains. Sorry.

Yup, snobbish.  There may be more scholarly editions available, but as reading copies there is nothing wrong with them.  Societies have played a huge role in the past in increasing the number of titles available to those with limited incomes and their role should be celebrated, not dismissed.  I have quite a few Science Fiction Book Club hardbacks that I picked up second hand, and welcome them as opportunities to acquire books that I probably wouldn’t otherwise come across.  One cannot say the same of Reader’s Digest abridgements, which have always struck me as undermining the integrity of the original.

15. Folio Society – presumably there are people out there who purchase Folio Society books and think they look good on the shelves. Then they realise their mistake, dump them in the second-hand shop, where no one ever touches them again.

I suspect there is a market in second-hand Folio Society editions to judge by their prices, but possibly more among collectors than readers.  I have a few myself, but in general I prefer editions with a critical apparatus to nice illustrations.  They are so big in their slipcases as well, taking up valuable shelf space.

14. Missing volumes in a series – argh, how I going to find the missing one? Even if I found the same edition, it still wouldn’t fit in properly.

On the plus side there is the thrill of the chase, on the minus side it is frustrating to have gaps that are difficult to fill.  There is also the problem of duplicating classic novels issued by different publishers because I can’t decide between them.

13. Underlining – I tell a lie, finding that someone has written in the book is worse ….

On the whole I agree, with exceptions.  My pet hate is highlighting using a fluorescent pen, which renders the words unreadable, with underlining a close second.  Sometimes though marginalia can be illuminating: I once had a copy of a book that had been owned by the renowned psychical researcher Molly Goldney which was full of her annotations, but was in poor shape.  I sold it when I acquired a copy in better overall condition, and still regret having done so.

12. Food stains – nothing can disfigure a book more.

Definitely – that’s one element of its history I can do without. What sort of person uses a book as a coaster?  Even worse is the idea of employing a rasher of bacon as a bookmark; thankfully not a common practice.  I do like finding (clean) objects, old receipts, bus tickets and the like.

11. Foxing – the book is dying, and there is nothing I can do about it.

It’s a cause for sadness rather than annoyance.  Digital reproduction can extend their lives as well as making them widely accessible, but it’s not the same as holding a piece of processed wood in your hands.

10. Faded jackets – don’t leave your books in the sun, dear previous owner.

I totally agree, though unless said previous owner is rigorous about pulling the curtains during the day it’s hard to avoid completely, at least on the spines.

9. Books put aside that someone else then buys – how can this be?

I know that feeling when you are not sure, change your mind later and return, only to find it’s too late.  On the other hand I also know the feeling of buying hastily and repenting at leisure.

8. Books I already have – a special sort of annoyance, in that I really would like to buy the book, yet it would be absurd to do so. Maybe it is a compulsion to repeat a successful past action.

Yes, this is a most odd phenomenon that I too have experienced.

7. Over-priced – of course I know the correct price for any book ever published in whatever condition, and will huffily put back on the shelf anything that does not match my perfect estimation.

Sometimes you bend, sometimes not, depending on how much you want it.  You have to learn to be strong enough to walk away, but it still rankles.  I find it helps to have a wife who is happier than I am to haggle with dealers.

6. Pages missing – and it’s only after you’ve bought the thing and got to page 200 that you find out …

It does happen, but rarely.  The overall condition is an incentive to check carefully and find whether bits are missing.

5. Split spines – there has to be a special circle of Hell for people who break the spines of books to make them easier to read. Such people should never have been allowed to learn to read in the first place.

No argument.  Pure evil.

4. Cut corners – all those books with the price removed from the jacket so that the grateful recipient would not know how much had been spent on them. Bad manners masking as good manners.

You don’t see this as much nowadays, perhaps indicating that books are less likely to be given as gifts, or because the price often appears on the back with the barcode.  It is annoying because the original price is part of the book’s history (see below), and clipping affects the book’s monetary value.

3. Ex Libris and ‘This Book Belongs to’ labels – how ludicrous to have a personalised label and to stick it in the books that you own. How many perfectly books have I come across and had to spurn because someone before him had stamped their ownership on it forever? …

I tend to agree, unless the owner is famous or the book is from a significant collection.  I did once receive a box of personalised bookplates with a nice Aubrey Beardsley-esque cat design, but frankly they were a pain to get straight.  I was also given an embossing stamp as a present but the results weren’t visible enough.  There is no reason to spurn a book for having a label, even if the labeller was of modest background.  In particular I rather like books which have been given as prizes – the bookplates can be attractive, and they supply some context that would otherwise be lost.  I have a few that I received as prizes for various achievements in the Boys’ Brigade and I will always keep those even when I have obtained a better edition.

2. The donor’s name written on the flyleaf – equally so those books with loving messages from a relative who did not realise that their gift would handed in to the second-hand shop as soon as Christmas was over.

It’s a bit sad to see loving inscriptions dating from last year.  You wonder at the callousness of the recipient when someone has gone to the trouble of buying the book for them.  They could at least hide it at the back of a cupboard and get rid of it when they come across it again, to put a respectable distance between gift and disposal.  I agree such additions are pointless, unless the signature is that of the author, or associated with the subject in some way (I was pleasantly surprised recently to find that a 50p charity shop purchase on the 1943 RAF bombing raids on Germany had been signed by the author and a couple of members of those bombers’ crews).  Those I like, though book signing is a bit of an industry these days; Kazuo Ishiguro autographed so many copies of The Buried Giant that I thought the hardback would probably be worth more without it (‘oh look, here’s one he missed!).

1. The owner’s name written on the flyleaf – ugh, what sort of fool is it who wants to write their name in a book – and then give it away?

I’ve left this until last because here Luke and I part company completely.  I have written my name in books, usually neatly in the corner in a small triangle, since I was a teenager.  Antiquarian volumes are exempt, at least until my signature becomes a means of enhancing rather than diminishing their value.  So why put my name inside?  Probably to begin with it was in case I lent the book, to remind the borrower that it was mine.  Later it was to show that it had a history; I liked to see old signatures, and to speculate on them.  I frequented the Kirkdale Bookshop in Sydenham when I was at school and in my twenties, and over a period bought a number of books that had come in a job lot.  The previous owner of these was a G C Pearson and I wondered who he or she might have been, and why the address given with the name was c/o Mrs Rudling of 18 Venner Road, Sydenham SE26.  The inclusion of a name to me imparted something more than an anonymous book would have, and I thought I should like to be part of that chain of ownership.

Vanity perhaps, but I was intrigued once when talking to someone who sold books in King’s Lynn when he said that he had been in London and had come across an item with my name in.  You send them off into the world for whatever reason, and you don’t know where they go, but there is still a link.  Some time ago I bought a paperback with a Book Crossing label, which in theory enables a book to be tracked to its various destinations.  When I replaced that copy with a hardback I too logged the details into the Book Crossing website, but heard no more.  I had however also put my name inside as well, so hello The Holmes Affair, wherever you may be.  G C Pearson is doubtless long dead, but in a sense lives on for as long as those books he or she wrote in exist.

One he missed.

I am surprised Luke didn’t mention sticky-back plastic.  It is marginally acceptable on reading copies of paperbacks, and looks better than a dog-eared copy, but it is a dreadful substance generally.  I went through a phase of using the stuff a long time ago, and was recently embarrassed when I donated a rare pamphlet to the Marx Memorial Library that I had covered (and it had to be me because my name was written in the corner underneath it).  I apologised profusely for being so daft.  What I do like are ex-library hardbacks that are covered in removable plastic.  Even if the book is ratty, the dust jacket can still be pristine under its scuffed shroud, and I have been known to swap covers to get the best combination.

To conclude, Luke says: ‘I’m always in pursuit of an elusive ideal – the pre-owned object that by some magical transmutation becomes mine and mine alone.’  It is not merely elusive, it’s an impossible ideal because that book can never be yours alone: it had a previous owner, and unless your stewardship is disastrous, it will have subsequent ones.  What I think he craves is a second-hand book that is indistinguishable from a new one.  That is fine, but a second-hand book has so much more to offer if viewed in the right way, and in reality there is very little to get annoyed about.

Friday, 26 June 2015

The Chinese Photobook, The Photographers’ Gallery. London

China is a large country with a complex history, so it is not surprising that photography produced there should reflect that complexity.  The Chinese Photobook, a small exhibition at the Photographers’ Gallery in London, is a welcome, if cramped, opportunity to examine its photobook production over the last century.  Some of images, for example from the Cultural Revolution, will have an air of familiarity, but there are many that will be new to the non-specialist, making it a valuable peek into a world little known to most in the West, or known largely through the prism of cliché.

The exhibition is co-produced by the Aperture Foundation and Les Rencontres d’Arles.  It is curated by Martin Parr and the Dutch duo WassinkLundgren (Thijs groot Wassink and Ruben Lundgren), Parr’s involvement originating from an interest in propaganda and Socialist Realist photography.  Most of the books the three have collected were purchased either from flea markets or online.  The exhibition is partially supported by the soft-power China Art Foundation, which shows that current political interests cannot be disentangled from aesthetic and historical issues.  A chunkily handsome but rather expensive illustrated coffee table book, The Chinese Photobook: From the 1900s to the Present, has been published by Aperture to accompany it.

Covering the period from 1900 to the present day, the images chart in a condensed form the trajectory of China from an agrarian feudal society to the second largest economy in the world.  In addition to display cases and framed sheets, there are videos showing someone flipping through photobooks, giving the viewer the opportunity to see how the pages relate to each other.  These were fascinating, but clumsily turned, and a better method would have been to have scanned the pages and shown them as a slide show.  At least there is more to see than in static volumes under glass.

The exhibition is divided into six sections: ‘From Empire to the People’s Republic of China (1900-1949)’; ‘Manchuria and the Sino-Japanese War’ (1931-1947)’; ‘The Image of a New China (1945-1966)’; ‘State Publishing: The Cultural Revolution and Beyond (1966-present)’; ‘The Renaissance of Chinese Photography’ (1979-present)’; and ‘Global Perspectives on China’ (1949-present).

The years 1900-49 were hugely eventful, beginning with European photographic pioneers taking advantage of the commercial and military penetration of the country.  Photography soon caught on among affluent Chinese, and amateur photography flourished.  In a period that began with a rigid imperial regime and ended with the establishment of a rigid Communist state, it was inevitable that photography would serve many purposes, not least pornographic, as the country struggled to establish a new identity.  In this the growth of mass media and improved printing techniques assisted the dissemination of photography, which both reflected and shaped the discourse of nationhood in a changing world, while acknowledging China’s rich artistic heritage.

‘Manchuria and the Sino-Japanese War’ focuses on photobooks published by both the Chinese and Japanese, including in the puppet state of Manchukuo, featuring competing narratives of the war and its legitimacy.  Japanese products were often designed to spin a story to its own citizens and those of its occupied territories in which conquest was depicted as harmonious cooperation and the Japanese presence benign.  Naturally the Chinese themselves had a different perspective on the Japanese invaders, highlighting the brutality and despoliation.

Pictorial Review of the Sino-Japanese Conflict in Shanghai, 1932

The next section covers the defeat of Japan, the civil war between the Nationalists and Communists, the foundation of the People’s Republic of China in 1949, and the development of Mao’s personality cult.  Photography played a vital role in propaganda, uniting people and party in a common effort within the ruling ideology to present a positive image both domestically and internationally.  As that programme suggests, the photographs (government managed rather than privately made) tended to be carefully composed and lacking spontaneity, in order to show the heroic strides the country was making in leaving its troubled past behind and forging a new social order, symbolised by the Great Leap Forward from 1958.  Bright cheerful groups gather to praise the wisdom of Marxism-Leninism-Mao Tse-tung thought and denounce the imperialist machinations of the running dogs of the fascist bourgeoisie.

1966 was a key turning point, with the institution of the Cultural Revolution which had such a devastating effect on the lives of ordinary people.  State control over publishing, both text and images, was centralised and guidelines were rigorously enforced.  Possession of unauthorised material was an offence.  As in the Soviet Union individuals fell out of favour, and publications featuring them had to be retrospectively censored.  One of the most fascinating displays is a number of books which have had pictures of unpersons (often the disgraced Lin Biao) scored out by their owners.  A change came with Mao’s death in 1976 and Deng Xiaoping’s liberalising influence, China beginning to look outwards more as it sought to become a major player on the world stage, projecting a modern technological image.

Chairman Mao is the Red Sun in Our Hearts, 1967

Socially, massaged optimism was replaced by a sense of realism, and photography followed suit.  As part of this change there was toleration of more diverse expressions of individual views.  From the late 1970s publishing outside the official structures occurred, such as photobooks documenting protests following the death of Zhou Enlai in 1976.  Individualism crept in as the country progressed economically and there were increasing opportunities for free expression (though as Tiananmen Square – still taboo – attests, there are limits).  It comes as a surprise to see openly gay photographs, and these are an indication that however clandestine, and however far it still needs to go, there is now an element of liberalism in China unknown in previous decades.

As a consequence, photographers were able to engage in a more spontaneous, and often critical, depiction of their lives, and as well as sharing these with fellow citizens were also able to present them outside China through international distribution channels, helping to integrate Chinese photography into the global art trade.  Chinese travellers turned their lenses on the rest of the world; at the same time foreigners scrutinised China, seeing the country with fresh eyes, just as those European pioneers had at the start of the twentieth century.  China is still far from being an open democracy, but it has come a long way from its previous insularity.  There is even space for out and out weirdness, notably The Hairy People of China (1982), which balances, not very well, cool scientific scrutiny with idle voyeurism.

Wasskink, Lundgren and Parr have done a valuable job in collecting and publicising the wealth of photography in China, undoubtedly acting as a stimulus for further research, but overall the displays feel like a taster for the exhibition book.  This is a show that could have justified the use of another floor of the gallery, and the contrast between the expansiveness of China and the smallness of the allotted space is very evident.

The exhibition is at the Photographers’ Gallery from 17 April to 5 July 2015.

Friday, 1 May 2015

Edmund Dawson Rogers and the Society for Psychical Research Website

Edmund Dawson Rogers

The May 2015 issue of Psychic News contains an article by Leslie Price (pp.31-2) on the Spiritualist element in the early Society for Psychical Research.  Part of Price’s article discusses the amendment of the SPR website’s history page in December 2014 to include a reference to Edmund Dawson Rogers, someone who claimed to have had the idea of the Society.  The article is headed boldly, 'Did the Society for Psychical Research deny its Spiritualist origins?: Psychical researcher and historian of Spiritualism Leslie Price sheds light on a disturbing "cover-up".'  Disturbing?  How so?

What happened was this.  Psypioneer, the online journal with which Price is associated, occasionally bangs on about Edmund Dawson Rogers, and the charge that the SPR routinely airbrushes him out of the narrative of its formation in 1882 because he was a Spiritualist, and the SPR wants everyone to think that only respectable people founded it, like Frederic Myers, Henry Sidgwick and Edmund Gurney.

In the November 2014 issue of Psypioneer, Price collated various items of correspondence that had appeared in the magazine Light with Rogers and William Barrett disputing who was responsible for the idea of the SPR (‘New Light on S.P.R. Origins? – LIGHT 1893’, pp.309-16).  At the beginning Price states:

‘When a project is successful, there may be rival claims to have started it. In the first issue of Psypioneer, we noted how the name of Edmund Dawson Rogers, a Spiritualist and mere journalist, had been omitted from the Society for Psychical Research web site – still the case today.  We are currently told only “The SPR, the first learned society of its kind, was founded in London in 1882.”’

The opening article in the premier issue of Psypioneer, in May 2004, is indeed ‘SPR conceived by a Spiritualist’, and is about Rogers and how his ‘name is not used in official SPR publicity’, though it is hard to imagine it being much of a draw.

I was not responsible for the historical text on the SPR website (‘History of The Society for Psychical Research’) that was proving so contentious, but as I had occasionally seen references to the omission of Rogers’ name in Psypioneer I thought that inserting his name into the text would calm down those voices which were keen to play this issue up as some kind of conspiracy to disavow the Spiritualist’ role in the SPR’s formation.  So just before Christmas 2014, with the permission of the original author, I added Rogers’ name, and also the 20 February date of its actual foundation, to the SPR website’s historical overview:

‘The SPR, the first learned society of its kind, was founded in London on 20 February 1882, following initial discussions between William Barrett and Edmund Dawson Rogers, and then a conference convened in London in January to discuss the viability of such a Society.’

I emailed Leslie Price to let him know, so that he could finally allow his Rogers fixation to rest.  Or so I naively thought.  Instead it merely gave him fresh energy to beat up the SPR.

In the February 2015 issue of Psypioneer, in an article triumphantly entitled ‘SPR recognises Dawson Rogers at last’ (p.56), he begins, ‘The Society for Psychical Research has acknowledged Edmund Dawson Rogers as a founder in 1882. This follows a ten-year campaign by Psypioneer.’  Somewhat miffed by the implication that it was solely Psypioneer’s fearless determination to see justice done which had finally overcome the SPR’s equal but ultimately futile determination not to allow any mention the name of Edmund Dawson Rogers to sully its website, I drew attention to the article on the SPR’s Facebook page, which I manage, on 22 March 2015:

‘The latest issue of the ever-excellent free online Psypioneer has just been released (Feb 2015). It includes a short article by Leslie Price ('SPR recognises Dawson Rogers at last'), about the SPR website's section on the history of the Society being revised to include a reference to Edmund Dawson Rogers's role in its formation.

‘The way that this has been posed by Psypioneer, especially referring to a 'ten-year campaign' to have Rogers' name included, suggests that somehow there has been a conspiracy to downplay Rogers' role, and fierce opposition to Psypioneer's valiant efforts to set the record straight.

‘I think the real, and much more mundane, reason for Rogers' omission from the original text (which I didn't write, though I did revise it to include him) is simpler – he just wasn't seen as that significant, in a highly condensed historical overview, to the development of the SPR. But anyway, he's now included, and Psypioneer are happy.’

I added a link to the Psypioneer website at the end.

If I thought that was the end of the matter I was mistaken, as Price has taken the opportunity to have another pop the SPR in the latest Psychic News, citing my Facebook comments (I need to emphasise that the SPR has no corporate views so that it is impossible to speak in the name of the Society and these comments are mine alone).  A box reproduces the February 2015 Psypioneer article, again with the heading 'SPR recognises Dawson Rogers at last'.  Price’s Psychic News article goes on:

‘The SPR’s Facebook editor [i.e. me] responded to this. (The SPR Facebook page serves as an informal daily newspaper for psychical research.)’

Price quotes the second two paragraphs of my 22 March Facebook post and manages to turn it into a concern that the SPR might have a cavalier attitude to evidence:

‘There is, however, a worrying implication from the SPR’s attempts over many years to put a more academic face on its early history.  Suppose in writing up cases and experiments, a similar attitude to the facts had been taken to what was felt to be not “that significant”?’

Sounds bad, doesn’t it.  Leaving something out that isn’t significant?  That’s not very scientific.  Everything should go in, just in case it turns out to be significant later.  So leaving out Rogers’ name from a potted history of the SPR covering 130+ years suggests that the Society could take a similarly slap-dash approach to research.  Price seems to have misunderstood the function of a brief introduction aimed at the general reader visiting the SPR’s website in what is clearly irritation at having Rogers referred to as someone who probably ‘wasn't seen as that significant’ in the eyes of the website article’s author.

It’s possible that even Psychic News’s editor thought that Price’s tone in his article was unfair to the SPR because ‘cover-up’ in the title is in inverted commas.  Why would you do that if you really thought it was a cover-up?  The implication is that it is Price’s phrase, and not one shared by the magazine.  But why is Price so keen to drum up Rogers?  There is a link.  Rogers was involved in the launch of the Spiritualist magazine Light in 1881.  Light is the magazine of the College of Psychic Studies.  Price is the archivist at the College of Psychic Studies.  That may be considered reason enough to want to defend Rogers from perceived slights.

So was there a cover-up, or even a ‘cover-up’?  While I agree that over the course of the SPR’s history there has generally been no great enthusiasm for acknowledging the presence of Spiritualists among its membership, what I don’t think happened was a conspiracy which said ‘let’s not refer to that ghastly Spiritualist and journalist Edmund Dawson Rogers’.  It's not as if he has been ignored in publications associated with the SPR.  He features in both Renée Haynes' centenary The Society for Psychical Research 1882-1982: A History, and the volume edited by Ivor Grattan-Guinness on Psychical Research: A Guide to its History, Principles and Practices, in Celebration of 100 Years of the Society for Psychical Research.

True, Rogers is only referred to a couple of times in each, but then that is to be expected if he was not a significant figure in the early SPR.  Alan Gauld in his The Founders of Psychical Research also fleetingly mentions Rogers a couple of times, in footnotes; that seems to be what his contribution to the SPR deserves, yet somehow he managed to become a cause célèbre in the pages of first Psypioneer and now Psychic News!  Let’s hope that finally Leslie Price has got this out of his system and will find some other interest to engage his attention, preferably one that does not involve the SPR.

Update 9 May 2015

Leslie Price has sent me a depressingly long email (7 May) discussing various items with which he disagrees in this blog post.  It came as something of a surprise because on the same day he linked to the post on his Facebook page with the words ‘My article in the May issue of the magazine Psychic News about SPR pioneer Edmund Dawson Rogers, has drawn adverse comment - and another photo of the man himself!’, which did not seem to suggest he had any problems with it.  Despite these mixed messages I feel that I should respond to the email, though I don’t expect the result to be of interest to many.  I appreciate that I am myself commenting on a communication not in the public domain, not something I would normally do, but Leslie raises some issues that require an answer, and he concludes: ‘Please have a think about your blog, and whether it should be amended.’ which to my mind gives me tacit approval to cite his email, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to explain any amendments made as a result of it.  On reflection perhaps what I wrote does need to be, if not amended (I’ve not touched what I originally wrote, and Leslie has not indicated that I have crossed a legal line), at least amplified to address his concerns.  I’m sure he appreciates that anything I write is my view alone, I do not, and cannot, speak for the SPR, and whatever roles I perform for the SPR are irrelevant to my opinions regarding Edmund Dawson Rogers and the extent of his involvement in the Society’s foundation.

To begin with, Leslie says that his Psypioneer note in the February 2015 issue – the one beginning ‘The Society for Psychical Research has acknowledged Edmund Dawson Rogers as a founder in 1882. This follows a ten-year campaign by Psypioneer’ – was intended merely to announce the alteration to the SPR website to include Rogers’ name, and express appreciation for it.  I’m sure it was both those things, but the conjunction of those sentences right at the start does, at least to me, imply a desire to take credit for having fought a successful decade-long campaign that had finally borne fruit against determined opposition (else why, it suggests, would it have taken ten years to accomplish?).  Psypioneer has, as I said above, referred occasionally since its inception to the omission of Rogers’ name from SPR literature and website, but if this can be called a campaign, the truth is that it was one with only a single combatant, and I suspect it barely registered outside the pages of Psypioneer.  I added Rogers’ name to the SPR website’s historical overview not because I felt any pressure to do so but because there seemed no particular reason not to, and I thought it would please the Rogers camp to see their man included; also I suppose to indicate that his previous omission was not through some cover-up but, as a reflection of his overall importance to the development of the SPR in a compressed online history aimed at the general non-specialist reader.

Leslie goes on to discuss my brief 22 March note on the SPR’s Facebook page, the bulk of which he included in his article in the May 2015 issue of Psychic News.  These were off-the-cuff remarks, in a medium that is by its nature transient, made after reading the Psypioneer article.  I wasn’t pleased to find them enshrined in a more permanent form, albeit semi-anonymously as by ‘The SPR’s Facebook editor’ (semi- because plenty of people know that I look after the SPR’s Facebook presence) in the pages of Psychic News.  He thought they might be construed as ‘condescending’, even though he had happily reproduced them, a charge which surprised me.  They were certainly not intended to be condescending, and probably only seem so to someone who is defensive about Rogers and his small part in forming the SPR.

Leslie claims that the Psychic News article was not designed to beat the SPR despite the reference in it to a cover-up. In any case, he says that the choice of ‘cover-up’ in the Psychic News’s sub-heading was not his but the editor’s.  I can accept that was the case, but even so the sub-heading takes its tone from Leslie’s article, a chunk of which deals with the SPR ignoring Rogers and focusing on ‘Cambridge scholars’.  That sounds like Leslie is accusing the SPR of a cover-up, so the magazine’s editor can be forgiven for thinking it a suitable expression to use.  He quotes the words in Psychic News which I found particularly inflammatory, i.e. the second sentence here:

‘There is, however, a worrying implication from the SPR’s attempts over many years to put a more academic face on its early history.  Suppose in writing up cases and experiments, a similar attitude to the facts had been taken to what was felt to be not “that significant”?’

I interpreted this to mean that a morally dubious wish to impose an academic face on its early history (something which was bogus because it wrote out the likes of Rogers) meant that it would be happy to similarly manipulate ‘the facts’ in other instances to suit its own purpose.  The result of that would be that the Society’s voluminous publications could not be trusted because the results of such cases and experiments had been manipulated to present a particular stance, one that was in particular ill-disposed towards Spiritualism.  Leslie brings up Madame Blavatsky in this context, alluding to the Hodgson Report which has been heavily criticised for bias in recent years.  Such unfortunate things can happen, but while not wishing to get into a further debate about the rights or wrongs of Hodgson’s enquiry I will say that if you have to reach back to 1885 for an example, while making the vague accusation sound like it was the SPR’s standard operating procedure, then it just comes across as innuendo.

In my original blog post I referred to the volumes written or edited by Alan Gauld, Renée Haynes and Ivor Grattan-Guinness, but I did not include Rogers himself.  How much did he have to say about his allegedly seminal contribution to the SPR?  Life and Experiences of Edmund Dawson Rogers: Spiritualist and Journalist, Editor of ‘Light’ and President of the London Spiritualist Alliance (from which the portrait of Rogers above is drawn) reprinted an article from Light as a memorial to him after his death in 1910.  The single page it devotes to the SPR cannot be bothered to get the name right, as it is headed ‘Origin of the Psychical Research Society’.  Even Rogers didn’t consider, on this evidence, that he had made a particularly significant contribution; he describes the famous meeting with William Barrett, but is vague about the date – ‘It so happened that in the year 1882, or perhaps in the last months of 1881 – I cannot now recollect the date – Professor W F Barrett was spending the night with me at my residence in Finchley … I suggested that a society should be started on lines which would be likely to attract some of the best minds which had hitherto held aloof from the pursuit of the inquiry.  Professor Barrett approved of the suggestion, and called a conference …’

I am sorry that Leslie considered me discourteous in my references to him.  Again, that was not intentional, but I can see that using the term ‘fixation’ was an unhappy one.  It simply reflected my bemusement that anybody would actually want to mount an effort over so many years merely to have Rogers’ name included in SPR publicity.  And I simply couldn’t see why he would want to keep worrying at it after Rogers’ name was eventually included on the SPR website, and thus the aim of the Psypioneer’s long lonely crusade achieved.  I certainly wouldn’t have written my original blog post if Leslie hadn’t seen fit to write the article for Psychic News (and sadly far more people read Psychic News and Psypioneer than ever read posts on this blog!).  He also objects to my linkage of him, Rogers, Light and the CPS, pointing out rightly that he was not CPS archivist in 2004 when Psypioneer began its championing of Rogers.  But I believe Leslie was the CPS’s librarian in 1969, so he has had a long association with the College, even if he did not hold a position with it for that entire period.  I don’t know why he should be unhappy with the association; to me it seemed some kind of reason for Leslie’s lengthy promotion of Rogers, and not an ignoble one.

Leslie’s last point relates to my final sentence: ‘… find some other interest to engage his attention, preferably one that does not involve the SPR’, asking if I am suggesting that he should not involve himself in SPR matters.  Of course I was not saying that, I was thinking of this exercise, particularly the Psychic News article, one that has served to reinforce barriers between psychical researchers and Spiritualists rather than break them down.  If Leslie wishes to engage in SPR matters it is to be applauded, but I hope that they are positive efforts.  I was making the point that I did not feel that this particular intervention was a constructive one.

My overall conclusion is that this business has escalated out of all proportion to the original issue, and bad feeling has been engendered.  The saga is best categorised as a good deed gone awry (and if that is felt to be patronising I apologise in advance), but it’s done now.    An irony is that I have previously found myself in Leslie’s shoes, criticising authors in book reviews for omitting Rogers’ name from their examination of the SPR’s origins.  I have never been dismissive of Rogers’ contribution to the SPR, while keeping it in perspective, so it seems odd to find myself in some kind of dispute over him.  I suspect that Leslie will return to this issue in one form or another in either Psypioneer or Psychic News, but I don’t think I will wish to add anything further.

Thursday, 23 April 2015

The 'Brother Doli' Poltergeist Case

The ‘Brother Doli’ Poltergeist Case

I recently came across the website of ‘Psychic Science’, subtitled ‘Explore psychic abilities & the paranormal with Michael Daniels PhD’.  On it is a page devoted to ‘Notable Modern Poltergeist Cases’ (modern being after 1960).  Most of these are obvious, if a highly selective assortment: Sauchie, Enfield, Rosenheim, Matthew Manning, plus a few less-well known cases, a couple investigated by William Roll, one from Brazil.  The final one is ‘The Brother Doli Case (1997-2002)’, which was investigated by none other than Michael Daniels himself.  He wrote it up in some detail, heavily illustrated, in the Journal of the Society for Psychical Research in 2002.

The events took place near Mold, North Wales, at the home of David and Rose-Mary Gower.  Living with them was their adopted son John-Paul, born in 1985, who had Down’s Syndrome.  As the ‘Notable Modern Poltergeist Cases’ entry describes it, the phenomena consisted of a variety of aspects:

‘Large numbers of stains and carvings of images and Welsh words, generally of a religious nature, inside and outside the house. Intrusions of Welsh religious words in emails, computer files and printed documents. Noises. Strange smells. Temperature fluctuations. Pools of water. Electrical disturbances. Object  displacements, disappearances and reappearances. Apparitions of the Virgin Mary and of a monk. Photographic anomalies. Scratching of skin. No throwing of objects was reported.’

This doesn’t really do the phenomena justice, but gives a flavour.  ‘Brother Doli (Adolphus) was a nickname given by the family to whatever was causing the events, though the Gowers’ youngest daughter claimed to see the apparition of a young monk, Rose-Mary herself saw a monk-like figure, and a message (we are not told what it said) was found on a notepad signed ‘Doli’.  Following Daniels’ JSPR paper, the Gowers themselves had an article, ‘The 'Brother Doli' Case: Family Perspectives’.  This is unusual, but we rarely hear directly from the witnesses themselves in articles written for academic publications.  Having the two articles next to each other might however raise a question in the reader’s mind about Daniels’ independence.  He feels less like an investigator than an agent.

I was somewhat unimpressed with the case, feeling that it did not stand up to careful scrutiny, and after comparing what Daniels had written with Rose-Mary Gower’s various internet writings on the subject, wrote a letter to the SPR’s Journal which was published in the April 2003 number.  I reprint it here in full, complete with the web references that were in my letter as submitted to the editor but omitted when it appeared in the Journal.

To the Editor

‘Michael Daniels, together with Rose-Mary and David Gower, whose house Dr Daniels investigated for the “Brother Doli Case” (October issue), spend thirty-two pages describing an investigation which seems to evaporate the closer one looks.  Indeed, the discussion rehearses most of the objections which a critic would want to make so clearly that one wonders whether what is left warrants the expenditure of such a large quantity of SPR resources.

‘What is missing is an analysis of the pronouncements by Rose-Mary Gower in her Internet writings.  The alarm bells should sound at David Gower’s remark that the details have evolved to make them into a better (more dramatic?) story, and that “Rose-Mary, like her media contacts, enjoys a good tale”.  This is a key element which Michael Daniels does not address, but which can be appreciated by comparing this account to those found on the Internet.  It can be seen that each is tailored to the appropriate audience.

‘For example a reference to John-Paul seeing Brother Doli patting Aslan, the family’s dead Alsatian dog, in the garden [1], is omitted from the Journal report.  The stone dated 1610 is here said to look new, and the age of the original building unknown, but in her Internet writings Rose-Mary claims that the house dates from the seventeenth century: “We live in a 17th Century farmhouse near Mold in North Wales UK” [2]; “David, my husband, Down’s Syndrome son John-Paul and I moved into Penyffordd Farm, circa 1610, just outside Treuddyn, in February 1997” [3].  Her description of smiley faces appearing on the walls “suggesting that the monk is a happy little spook!” [4] also fails to obtain a mention in the Journal report.

‘Rose-Mary does say that the most likely explanation of the phenomena is a hoax (not by her, of course), but this apparent candour seems to be undermined by the account of the flowers changing into wasps.  Interpretation of the case is a choice between the paranormal and a hoax perpetrated by her alone or in collusion, possibly forming a framework in which mundane occurrences are interpreted as paranormal by others.  One source of evidence, the possessions of visitors which had Welsh words engraved (or embossed, depending on the source) on them, does not appear to have been subject to scrutiny.  These items are not mentioned again, and Michael Daniels has not interviewed anyone outside the immediate family.

‘In short, Dr Daniels lists a number of reasons why this case should not be taken seriously, but is less clear about why it should.  The Gowers are active self-publicists, and this article appears to be one more element in their endeavours, with the added bonus of being written by someone else and appearing in a scholarly journal – hence its sobriety compared to the others that are aimed at a wider audience.  This manipulation fatally damages the case’s credibility.’


The reference to the flowers changing into wasps was an incident recounted in passing on p.195 that I thought should have carried more weight:

‘The next series of phenomena began in August 1997 when Rose-Mary reports that a strange transformation occurred in the kitchen when she was clearing out a vase of dried blue flowers. Having placed the flowers on the floor while she stepped briefly outside, Rose-Mary returned to find that the blue petals had changed into a large group of dead and dying half-drowned wasps.’

The suggestion is that she was alone when this happened (the presence of someone else should have been recorded) and it seems that therefore a hoax by somebody else, or misperception by her, could be ruled out in this instance.  The choice is between such a transformation occurring without (living) human intervention or Rose-Mary making it up.  If the latter, it casts doubt on the rest of her testimony.

I had several reservations that I did not include in the letter, but my major one concerned the possible role of other members of the family.  Apart from John-Paul the children remained shadowy presences in the article.  Though the three daughters were interviewed, no information about them is provided.  It is implied that they were infrequent visitors, yet David Gower says that his early, albeit later discarded, suspicion was that ‘his grown-up children’ were hoaxing the phenomena, implying that they were often in the house.  Relatives, friends and acquaintances were said to have witnessed events, but information given to Daniels was channelled through the Gowers, mainly Rose-Mary.  David seems to have been fairly disengaged from the business.

Dr Daniels was given the right of reply to my letter in the same issue, and it is worth examining in detail as it is a good indication of his attitude to weighing evidence.  He divides my points into four categories:

1) Daniels’ article does not address Rose-Mary’s various accounts that I claimed were ‘tailored to the appropriate audience’;

2) He had not interviewed anyone outside the family whose possessions had been affected;

3) The case’s credibility is too slight to warrant such lengthy treatment in JSPR;

4) The Gowers are ‘self-publicists’ whose activities are encouraged by coverage in a scholarly journal.

He then responds at double the length of my letter.  To begin with he states that the article ‘provides the reader with addresses of all the main web sites that have featured accounts of the phenomena at the Gowers' home’, which would be good, except that he continues: ‘It is true that I do not critically compare these various accounts’, and that is because some contain inaccuracies by other hands than Rose-Mary – which implies that journalists were making certain things up.  Yet the Gowers did not seem bothered enough to correct the record when they saw these errors, surprising given their readiness to put pen to paper.  Did John-Paul see the ghost of ‘Brother Doli’ patting the dead dog Aslan or did he not?  If so, that would seem to be an important element of the case and Daniels should have included it.  If the incident had been made up by a third party, how did that happen?  It doesn’t sound the sort of thing to come out of thin air.  In sum, Daniels airily waves away discrepancies with ‘In my opinion it serves no particular purpose to analyse these accounts’, but fails to say why he then included web links to articles that were considered untrustworthy.  Any errors by Rose-Mary he thought could be attributed to normal lapses in memory, as can be found with any witness.

But then he goes on to admit: ‘As was indicated by David Gower in his commentary, and as evidenced by some of the Internet accounts, Rose-Mary does tend to embroider and dramatise her narrations in an attempt to make a good story.’  That’s putting it mildly!  What David had said (expanding on the snippet I included in my letter) is:

‘…we [he and Rose-Mary] differ on the importance of detailed accuracy and chronological precision in reporting them. I think the accounts have changed in narrative detail as events have been re-told to successive friends and acquaintances to make better stories. Rose-Mary, like her media contacts, enjoys a good tale and has made the name 'Brother Doli' part of family folklore. I, too, readily participate in such family fun…’

Is this a problem for Daniels?  Not really, because it might still not necessarily be a hoax, rather ‘the personality and behaviour of someone who wished, for whatever reason, to publicise a case believed to be genuine.’  So why ‘embroider’ (which strikes me as a euphemistic word)?  Is the case not good enough to stand on the facts that it needs to be ‘embroidered’, and the investigator doesn’t feel it worth his while to compare the various accounts to ascertain what may have happened and what didn’t?  By the time Daniels got round to interviewing Rose-Mary, how could he tell what was real from what was inserted to make a good yarn?

The reference to ‘media contacts’ is particularly revealing.  Mary-Rose was clearly happy to get as much publicity as possible with a story that, rogue journalists notwithstanding, could easily change in the retelling.  Daniels notes in his article that the story had been covered by HTV Wales' Weird Wales series and various other television and radio programmes, including This Morning, Kilroy, and twice on John Peel's Radio 4 show Home Truths.  Rose-Mary was clearly keen to get as much publicity as possible and as her husband acknowledged, accuracy was not her primary concern.

At least Daniels concurs that the case is weakened by the lack of independent witnesses: one might feel, in light of the difficulty in getting a reliable account from Rose-Mary, fatally.  He did not interview people whose belongings were engraved or embossed, but anyway ‘I doubt that this would add anything of great significance.’  They were important enough to include in the article, now they don’t seem to count for anything.  As for the article’s length, I think Daniels believes I should thank him for it because ‘ironically’ the degree of detail convinced me that the case is flawed, yet a shorter report would have given the case more credibility ‘thus furthering the Gowers' alleged publicist agenda to an even greater extent.’  The logic escapes me, given that I can’t see how less detail would have allowed the case to appear more credible.  It was going to be weak whatever the length.

Anyway, Daniels thinks that even if it all turned out to be a hoax, that is fine, because it can help future researchers determine ways hoaxing operates more effectively in order to distinguish genuine phenomena from frauds, making the life of the hoaxer harder.  In what way researchers could make this distinction on the basis of an article like his is not spelled out, nor why the enthusiastic hoaxer would necessarily decide hoaxing was not worthwhile when receiving attention from researchers.  He also alludes to the file drawer effect, the suppression of negative results leading to ‘over-confidence in the reality and extent of psychical phenomena’.  Daniels thinks this applies to the evaluation of spontaneous phenomena as well as laboratory experiments, but it is difficult to see how the discarding of reports such as this one would affect the evaluation of other cases, or by what method the effect could be determined statistically.

Daniels’ final point is that if such accounts were not published, then researchers would not bother to investigate them, or would be biased in favour of a paranormal explanation if that meant that they stood a better chance of publication.  It’s an interesting point, though the archives are full of reports that are thorough (arguably more thorough than this one) but unpublished.  To be fair to Daniels, he does not conclude definitively in his article that the phenomena were genuine, contenting himself by saying that they are ‘extraordinary’ but ‘highly ambiguous’, with no degree of certainty possible.  His Psychic Science website entry goes further, giving it only one star (out of a possible five) plus the comment ‘Paranormal activity is conceivable but unlikely’, which raises the obvious question, what in Dr Daniels’ opinion makes it a ‘notable modern poltergeist case’?

In his rejoinder to my letter he assumes that I concluded that the case ‘indicates an elaborate hoax’, which he thinks understandable and a distinct possibility, but not the only explanation available.  Oddly I agree with him.  It is possible that there was a genuine poltergeist at work in the Gowers’ home, albeit the details were ‘improved’ over time.  Where I depart from him is in finding his report a useful analysis as it is impossible to know what to trust in it.  The oddest aspect of the entire business may be that sceptics Richard Wiseman and Caroline Watt chose to reprint his Journal article in an Ashgate anthology on parapsychology, unless this was part of a cunning plan to undermine the discipline’s credibility when it all makes perfect sense.


Daniels, M. (2002) The ‘Brother Doli’ case: Investigation of Apparent Poltergeist-type Manifestations in North Wales. Journal of the Society for Psychical Research, 66.4, No. 869, 193-221.  (Reprinted in R. Wiseman and C. Watt (eds.) (2005). Parapsychology (The International Library of Psychology). Farnham, Surrey: Ashgate Publishing.)

Gower, R-M and Gower D. (2002) ‘The 'Brother Doli' Case: Family Perspectives’, Journal of the Society for Psychical Research, 66.4, No. 869, 222-4.

Ruffles, T. (2003) Letter, Journal of the Society for Psychical Research, 67.2, No. 871, 158; Michael Daniels’ reply: 159-60.

Update 15 July 2015

I have engaged in a brief email correspondence with Michael Levy, owner of Penyffordd Farm since August 2012 when the Gowers moved out.  He has indicated that he is happy for me to share his thoughts here.  It is fair to say that he too has reservations about the Brother Doli business: he says in part (13 July):

‘Naturally we were made aware of the ghostly "goings on" at this address by the estate agent and a few bemused neighbours.  I also read much of the stuff that was returned following some googling.  Nonetheless, this did not sway our view of this place and we happily moved in.

‘To date, there has been a grand total of zero unexplained, ghostly, spooky, haunting, para/sub/ab/normal, “monky” business here.  No happy faces appearing on walls (I think that is because the huge damp problem has now been sorted out).  No apparitions, no mysterious engravings or staining on surfaces.  The cross that Rosemary Gower has referred to on the fireplace lintel has not re-appeared following a good sanding and rebuilding of our hearth.  Ornaments stay put…  So far, neither I nor any friend or family member has spotted the Virgin Mary….  My email and internet traffic is untainted by the alleged web-wise ghost….

He concludes, ‘things are all normal here’.  In a subsequent email (14 July) he adds that he met Rose-Mary and David once, when they popped round to introduce themselves after the move but – to put it diplomatically – he found her claims unconvincing.

Dr Daniels has added to his website summary the information that Rose-Mary wrote on an internet forum in April 2014, so quite some time after they had left, that phenomena ceased abruptly in January 2008.  Perhaps ‘Brother Doli’ found peace at last, or some psychokinetic energy created by family interactions dissipated with changed circumstances.  Or perhaps Rose-Mary just got bored with the ‘tale’ once the media had moved on and killed Doli off.  Whatever the cause, that things are normal in the house these days is good news for the Levy family, if a loss to psychical research; phenomena occurring in the Gowers’ absence would definitely make it worth investigating once more.  In the meantime, despite its inclusion on Dr Daniels’ website as a notable case, Brother Doli has not entered the poltergeist canon, no doubt reflecting general unease about its credibility.