So, I was going for a walk to Starbucks this morning for a little bit of exercise and some caffeine. I shoved “The Scar” by China Mieville in the inside pocket of my jacket for reading material.
It had been sitting on the floor next to my desk, where it couldn’t possibly acquire any heat. Within moments of walking, I had to pull it out of my jacket, because it was burning me. It was cool to the touch, when I pulled it out, but when placed against my ribs in my loose, cool, denim jacket, the book was like a hot battery burning me.
I know what you’re thinking, and I checked for my cellphone, which was in my other pocket and wasn’t causing any heat at all. I rummaged around in the book’s pocket for anything that might cause heat. No luck. There was nothing inside.
The book, all by itself, was emanating heat, as if it contained within it a presence, or power, inexplicable by normal means.
I carried it in my hand, and it slowly cooled down. I put it back in my pocket, later, after I had coffee in one hand, and had spent an hour or so reading in the cafe, and the book was fine, as if the presence had burned off.
The only way to exorcise a book, after all, is to read it.