Some believe dog-earing a book “bruises” its spirit, while placing books on the floor invites misfortune. These quiet superstitions reflect deep respect for the power of stories.
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“Books are a uniquely portable magic.” — Stephen King
I had just folded a corner of my book’s page when someone exclaimed, “Don’t do that, it brings bad luck!”
At first, I shrugged it off. But then I paused. Why do certain people react so strongly to how others treat books? And more importantly, what are we really saying when we talk about book etiquette?
Across cultures and generations, stories are surrounded by superstition. Not only the tales themselves, but the way we hold, lend, mark, or gift books. These aren’t just odd traditions; they are rituals that reflect reverence, fear, discipline, and sometimes the belief that stories carry power far beyond the printed page.
Now, as July begins, with its astrological backdrop of the Moon trine Pluto transit encouraging release, reinvention, and deeper self-awareness, it might be the perfect time to ask: Are your reading habits simply habits, or are they private acts of storytelling?
Do not fold the pages Dog-earing is viewed by some as damaging the soul of a book. It is not just physical wear, it is symbolic. Readers are encouraged to use bookmarks, ribbons, or meaningful tokens to preserve both place and respect.
Books on the ground invite misfortune In many traditions, placing books on the floor is thought to attract financial hardship. Beyond superstition, this suggests that knowledge belongs in elevated spaces, not left forgotten underfoot.
Be wary of red covers as gifts Especially in matters of love, gifting a red-covered book can carry an omen of conflict. Whether or not you believe it, colour symbolism can leave a lasting impression.
Avoid writing inside the pages Writing your name or notes in a book may be seen as inviting misplacement, or breaking the energetic bond between you and the text. For some, even underlining feels disruptive.
Do not hand books directly to others In some cultures, passing a book directly hand to hand is considered unlucky. Instead, placing it down for someone to pick up is seen as more respectful, preserving harmony between giver, receiver, and the story itself.
Books as spiritual shields Carrying sacred texts or even small classics was once believed to protect against danger. Stories were not just companions, but guardians of the soul.
Writers are no strangers to superstition. For many, creativity is not a clean or predictable process. It is intuitive, ritual-based, and often deeply personal. Some of the greatest literary minds embraced this mystery.
Charles Dickens slept facing north and arranged specific objects on his desk before writing. He believed physical order helped summon creative flow.
Edith Sitwell would lie in a coffin for twenty minutes before writing poetry. The symbolism was deliberate, an act of quiet mortality to draw out hidden truths.
Dr. Seuss collected hundreds of hats and wore one whenever inspiration ran dry. Each hat, in his mind, offered a different lens on the world.
Mark Twain filled his stories with omens, charms, and spirits. His fascination with superstition shaped the emotional terrain of his characters and deepened the themes of fate in his fiction.
These were not eccentric performances. They were tools for protection, ways to survive the vulnerability of creation. These routines offered structure where inspiration often feels chaotic.
Whether it is the refusal to place a novel on the floor or the insistence on beginning a manuscript under a full moon, what connects these actions is intention. These behaviours speak to something primal, the need for order in uncertainty, the belief that how we engage with stories shapes how they engage with us.
Could replacing a dog-eared page with a chosen bookmark become an act of honoring the written word? Might a new creative ritual breathe fresh intention into your relationship with writing?
Maybe superstition is not about fear at all. Maybe it is another way of storytelling, a quiet mythology passed through gestures rather than words.
Do you treat your books as sacred? Have you ever hesitated before folding a page or placing a novel on the ground? Do you reach for a certain notebook or light a candle before beginning to write?
These rituals may seem small, but they shape the space where imagination lives.
They remind us that reading and writing are not only intellectual acts, but emotional ones.
So, what are your rituals? What are your unspoken beliefs?
There is magic in the margins. All you have to do is look.