The Wandering Library of MirMarnia: A Series
Part Eight: A Regrettable Acquisition - The Case of “Windward: A Comprehensive Study”
(I painted this on Procreate using the HB pencil brush, Eaglehawk Brush and Smoke Brush. I made reference sketches a few days before of the interior of Waterstones Bookshop to get an idea of the library’s interior. As you can tell, I painted the smoke last and had lost interest in the painting by that point. - Chaiga T. Cheska)
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Being a professional account of our most unfortunate volume
By Bramwell Corin, Assistant Librarian, who has considered early retirement
Preface
There are moments in one’s career when one questions the choices that led to this precise moment. Standing in the staff room at half past three on a Tuesday, whilst a book produces audible flatulence as punctuation is one of those moments.
What follows is a professional account of a deeply unprofessional book. I am writing this because Mistress Spine insisted someone must document it, and Pip has been rendered incoherent by a combination of horror and inappropriate laughter. Therefore, the task falls to me.
I am not enjoying this task.
Initial Acquisition
The book appeared on our front desk on the morning of the 3rd of January. No one ordered it. No one donated it. It simply materialised overnight, as books occasionally do in the Wandering Library. The title, embossed in what I can only describe as aggressively cheerful gold lettering, read: “Windward: A Comprehensive Study of Digestive Acoustics and Their Social Implications.”
I should have been suspicious immediately. I was not. This was my first mistake.
I opened the book to examine its contents.
The book responded with a sound I shall not attempt to reproduce in writing, but which Pip later described as “like a trombone falling down stairs.” The smell arrived approximately three seconds later. I closed the book immediately. The damage, however, was done.
Mistress Spine entered the staff room, took one breath, and said, “Bramwell, what have you done?”
I attempted to explain. The book opened itself and produced a shorter, sharper sound that I have since learned to interpret as “punctuation of disagreement.”
We have been dealing with it ever since.
Behaviour Patterns
After three weeks of observation, I have documented the following behavioural patterns:
1. Punctuation Through Flatulence
The book appears to use various... emissions... as a form of conversational punctuation. A short, sharp sound indicates disagreement or emphasis. A longer, more resonant sound suggests contemplation or a thoughtful pause. A series of rapid sounds indicates excitement or urgency.
Yesterday, Pip asked if we could simply throw the book away. The book produced a sound lasting approximately seven seconds that I interpreted as “absolutely not.” Pip interpreted it as “a profound violation of library decorum.” We were both correct.
2. Olfactory Commentary
Each sound is accompanied by a distinct smell, which the book appears to calibrate according to context. Mild disagreement produces a merely unpleasant odour. Strong disapproval produces something that made Thaddeus evacuate the building and refuse to return for three hours.
The smells dissipate after approximately 30 seconds to 2 minutes, depending on the severity. I have been timing them. This is what my life has become.
3. Autonomous Opening
The book opens itself at will, particularly during moments of quiet contemplation or serious scholarly discussion. Last Tuesday, Mistress Spine was conducting an interview with a potential new librarian. The book opened itself on the desk between them and produced a sound so prolonged and resonant that the candidate excused themselves and has not returned.
We are no longer conducting interviews in rooms containing the book.
4. Conversational Participation
Most disturbing is the book’s apparent desire to participate in conversations. When staff members are discussing cataloguing principles or acquisitions policy, the book will interject with sounds that can only be described as “editorial commentary.”
This morning, I was explaining to Pip the importance of maintaining proper filing systems. The book opened itself and produced three distinct sounds in rapid succession, which I interpreted as “full stop, rolling of eyes, exasperated sigh.” The book then closed itself with what I can only describe as finality.
Pip said, “I think the book agrees with you.”
I said, “The book is agreeing through flatulence, Pip. This is not the validation I require.”
The book opened again and produced a sound I am choosing to interpret as “well, actually.”
Attempts at Removal
We have attempted the following:
Attempt One: Reshelving in Restricted Section
I placed the book in the Restricted Section, behind three locked doors and a cabinet that requires two keys simultaneously. By evening, it had returned to the front desk. When I entered the staff room the next morning, it opened itself and produced a sound I can only describe as “smug.“
Attempt Two: Returning to Sender
There is no sender. The book has no ownership markings, no acquisition records, and no indication of origin. Mistress Spine suggested we simply place it outside and walk away. We tried this. The book was back on the front desk within the hour, positioned directly in front of the chair I customarily occupy. Message received.
Attempt Three: Negotiation
Lyria attempted to negotiate with the book through interpretive dance. The book watched her entire performance (somehow, despite not having eyes), waited until she finished, and then produced the longest, most elaborate sound I have yet witnessed. This lasted approximately fifteen seconds and progressed through what I can only describe as “movements“: an opening adagio, a development through a crescendo, a climax, and a denouement.
Lyria said, “I think it’s saying, ‘nice try, but I’m staying.’”
I said, “How could you possibly interpret that?“
She said, “It had a narrative arc.”
I am not asking follow-up questions.
Attempt Four: Appealing to the Library Itself
I stood in the main reading room and addressed the Library directly. I explained that the book was disruptive, unhygienic, and undermining staff morale. I requested that the Library, in its wisdom, relocate the volume to an appropriate location.
The Library responded by moving my desk six inches to the left.
The book remained on the front desk.
I am interpreting this as “the Library finds the situation amusing.”
Scholarly Content
I feel obligated to note that, despite its mode of communication, the book contains genuinely comprehensive information about digestive processes, social taboos surrounding flatulence across cultures, and the acoustic properties of various... emissions. The scholarship is thorough. The footnotes are extensive. The bibliography is impeccable.
This somehow makes everything worse.
Yesterday, a visiting scholar requested information on historical attitudes toward bodily functions. I reluctantly directed her to “Windward.” She spent three hours with it in the reading room. Every fifteen minutes or so, I would hear the book’s contributions to her research. She emerged looking simultaneously educated and traumatised.
She checked out the book.
It was back on our desk by morning.
The book, it seems, has standards about overnight visits.
Staff Reactions
Mistress Spine: Has developed the ability to ignore the book entirely. When it produces sounds during staff meetings, she continues speaking as though nothing has occurred. This is either impressive professional discipline or evidence that she has reached a state of existential acceptance beyond my current capabilities.
Lyria: Finds the book “refreshingly honest.” She claims it is “expressing what we all feel, but society prevents us from saying.” I suggested that society prevents us from saying these things for excellent reasons. She performed an interpretive dance about “the liberation of authentic expression.” The book produced enthusiastic commentary throughout.
Thaddeus: Refuses to enter any room containing the book. He leaves notes for me pushed under doors. Yesterday’s note read: “That volume represents the breakdown of scholarly discourse, and I will not bear witness to it.” I found this position entirely reasonable.
The Lantern Bearer: Unknown. The Lantern Bearer works at night. Whether the book produces sounds for them, I cannot say. I am afraid to ask. Some questions are best left unexamined.
Dame Pellifrax: Visited last week, encountered the book, listened to it produce three distinct sounds in response to her observation about weather patterns, and said, “Well, that’s rather direct.“ She has since sent the book a formal thank-you note for “honest meteorological feedback.“ The book responded by opening itself and producing what I interpreted as “pleased acknowledgement.” They now correspond regularly. I am not inquiring about the content of their communications.
Pip: See attached commentary. I have included it verbatim because editing it would take more energy than I currently possess.
Pip’s Commentary
THIS BOOK IS BOTH THE WORST AND BEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED.
It’s the WORST because it’s DISGUSTING and it SMELLS and it makes NOISES at the WORST POSSIBLE MOMENTS. Yesterday, I was eating lunch when it opened itself, and I couldn’t finish my SANDWICH.
But it’s also the BEST because it says what we’re all THINKING. Last week, Bramwell was explaining the card catalogue system for the SEVENTEENTH TIME, and the book opened itself and made a sound that CLEARLY meant “We’ve heard this before”, and I had to leave the room because I was laughing too hard to breathe.
Bramwell says the book is “undermining professional standards.” I think the book is ENHANCING professional standards by providing HONEST FEEDBACK.
This morning, Mistress Spine was explaining why we can’t reorganise the entire Restricted Section (again), and the book produced a series of sounds that I SWEAR formed the words “quite right, no more nonsense.” Bramwell says I’m “anthropomorphising flatulence“, which is probably fair, but the book HAS OPINIONS, and it’s EXPRESSING them, and I think that’s BRAVE.
Also, it’s REALLY funny when the book doesn’t like someone. Last week, a man came in and was RUDE to Lyria, and the book just OPENED ITSELF and produced the most DEVASTATING sound I have ever heard, and the smell was SO BAD that the man LEFT IMMEDIATELY. The book is PROTECTING us. The book is a HERO. A smelly, flatulent hero.
Bramwell says if I don’t stop defending the book, he’s going to assign me to catalogue it. Joke’s on him. I WANT to catalogue it. The book and I understand each other.
(The book just opened itself and made a sound that I think means “friendship.” Bramwell says it means “mild indigestion.” We agree to disagree.)
Philosophical Considerations
I have been forced to consider whether a book that communicates exclusively through flatulence deserves the same respect as other volumes in our collection.
The answer, unfortunately, is yes.
The book contains valuable information. It responds to queries, albeit unconventionally. It has opinions about proper research methodology and is not afraid to express them. It has, on three occasions, led researchers to relevant secondary sources through a series of sounds that somehow conveyed “check the third shelf, middle section, behind the brown books.”
This is, objectively, good librarianship.
The method is appalling, but the results are sound.
I am not happy about this conclusion.
Current Status
“Windward: A Comprehensive Study“ remains in our collection. It resides on the front desk, where it opens itself at will and provides commentary no one requested but everyone secretly appreciates. It has become, against all reasonable expectations, part of our staff.
Last week, a book in the Philosophy section fell from its shelf during a storm. “Windward“ opened itself and produced a concerned sound. Within minutes, Pip had checked on the fallen volume and returned it safely to its place. The book produced a satisfied sound and closed itself.
It cares about the collection. It communicates through flatulence, but it cares.
I am accepting this. I have no choice.
Practical Guidelines for Future Staff
Should you find yourself working alongside “Windward,” please observe the following:
Ventilation is Essential: Open windows whenever possible. The book respects honesty but not at the expense of breathable air.
Do Not Argue With the Book: It will win. It always wins. Flatulence is an unanswerable argument.
Learn to Interpret the Sounds: Short and sharp means “no.” Long and resonant means “consider this carefully.” Multiple rapid sounds means “absolutely not, are you mad?“ A sound lasting more than ten seconds means “I have OPINIONS about this and you’re going to hear all of them.“
The Book Knows When You’ve Lied: We do not understand how. We do not question it. Tell the truth in the book’s presence or face acoustic consequences.
Never, Ever Insult the Book: A scholar once called it “juvenile rubbish.” The book produced a sound that lasted 30 seconds and generated a smell so profound that we had to evacuate the entire east wing. The scholar fled. The smell lingered for three days. Learn from this.
The Book is Not Going Away: We have tried. It stays. Accept this.
Concluding Remarks
I have worked in libraries for fifteen years. I have catalogued manuscripts that insulted me, organised sections that reorganised themselves, and negotiated with books that held grudges. But I have never encountered a volume quite like “Windward.”
It is vulgar. It is unseemly. It communicates through what can only be described as “digestive punctuation.”
It is also thorough, helpful, and oddly endearing.
I am not admitting this to Pip. He would never let me forget it.
The book has taught me something I did not expect to learn: communication takes many forms. Some are elegant. Some are scholarly. Some are... acoustic and odorous.
All, apparently, have their place in a library that walks.
I am going for tea. The book just opened itself and made a sound I interpret as “you need a break.”
I hate that it’s probably right.
Final Notes (Added by Mistress Spine)
This report is accepted into our permanent records. Bramwell’s suffering has been noted and appreciated. The book stays. We are adapting.
I have moved all staff meetings to the west reading room. The book’s commentary was beginning to influence voting patterns.
That is all.
Additional Notes (Added by Pip Thimble)
I LOVE THIS BOOK.
Yesterday someone asked if we had any books on “speaking your truth“, and I just POINTED at “Windward“, and the person looked CONFUSED until the book opened itself and produced the most HONEST sound I have ever heard, and the person said, “OH. OH, I SEE.” and checked out THREE books on “authentic communication.”
The book is HELPING people. Through FARTS. This is MAGNIFICENT.
Bramwell says this is “not the validation one seeks in professional librarianship”, but I think he’s secretly PROUD of the book. Yesterday I saw him pat it on the cover after it correctly identified a misshelved volume through a series of concerned sounds.
He won’t admit it, but he LIKES the book. We ALL like the book. Even Thaddeus likes it. (He says he doesn’t. He sent it a note. The book KEPT the note. That’s FRIENDSHIP.)
Welcome to the staff, Windward. You’re DISGUSTING, and we LOVE you.
Extremely Final Notes (Added by Bramwell Corin)
I do not love the book. I tolerate the book. There is a difference.
(The book just opened itself and produced a sound that I am choosing not to interpret.)
(Fine. The sound probably meant “denial isn’t just a river.” The book has been spending too much time with Pip.)
Compiled over three weeks of acoustic disruption and olfactory assault. The staff room now has four windows open at all times. We have adapted. We have survived. The book remains. This is our life now. The tea helps. The tea always helps.
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Author’s Note:
Thank you for joining me in deciphering Bramwell’s most recent report. I wasn’t present for the…atmospheric conditions he describes, but I’ve known him long enough to trust the accuracy of his suffering.
Should this dispatch amuse you, please do share it with others who might also enjoy a glimpse into the Wandering Library’s more fragrant misadventures. Bramwell assures me there will be more.
-Chaiga T. Cheska