Fictional books in Coptic apocrypha

Abstract

Coptic literature abounds with references to books that never existed as physical objects in their own right. This article explores the role of fictional books specifically in a selection of Coptic apocrypha deriving from the entire period of Coptic literary production. Whether presented as apostolic, prophetic, or angelic; earthly or heavenly; historical or contemporary, references to fictional books could function as veracity devices, authority claims, or as materials for storyworld creation. Taking as its points of departure recent work on pseudo-documentarism, transnarrative storyworlds, and the cognitive effects of fiction, this article explores implicit claims to authority and authenticity, as well as the fuzzy boundaries and interrelationships between fictional and factual references in meaning- and world-making.

In a recent essay in Times Literary Supplement, D. J. Taylor proclaims that “The history of the invented book is at least a couple of centuries old.” ¹ It should come as no surprise to scholars of ancient literature that this is quite an understatement. When reading ancient literary texts in Coptic, for instance, we often come across references to otherwise unattested works—books that are known to us today only by reference. While some of these books no doubt existed at the time they were being referred to, a significant number are purely fictional. They are imaginary books that never existed as material objects in their own right—books that exist only in other books and in authors’ and readers’ imagination. While we find such references across many literary genres, I will in this article focus on references to fictional books in Coptic apocrypha, since this group of texts conveniently provide us with a wide range of examples. ² We can identify two distinct types of such imaginary books: (1) fictional books that are known only by reference to title and/or author and (2) fictional books that exist as embedded works within other works.

Fictional books known only by title or author

I will start with a few examples of the first category taken from some of the earliest Coptic manuscripts in existence. ³ In Nag Hammadi Codex II, a manuscript from the late fourth or early fifth century, ⁴ we find a particularly large number of references by title to otherwise unattested books in, ironically, the only text without a title in the codex. This untitled work is the fifth of seven texts in the manuscript and is commonly referred to in English-language scholarship as On the Origin of the World. ⁵ The first two references to otherwise unattested books in this text are given in connection with a description of the creation of a number of male–female heavenly powers, where we are told that “You will find the effect of these names and the power of the males in the Archangelic (Book) of the Prophet Moses, and the names of the females in the First Book of Noraia.” ⁶ On the same manuscript page, we are also told where one can find a good account of the further creations of the lower creator deity Yaldabaoth: “You will find accurate information about these things in the First Treatise of Oraia.” ⁷ Similarly, later in the tractate, we are told where to find the names and effects of the forty-nine male–female demonic offspring of the children of Death, namely “in the Book of Solomon.” ⁸ And we are likewise told that we may read about the influences and effects of the good and innocent offspring of the male–female children of Life “in the Characteristics of the Fate of the Heaven beneath the Twelve.” ⁹ In the same vein is also a reference to where one can find information on the arrangement of the eons between the eighth heaven and the chaos below: “you will find them written in the Seventh World of Hieralias the Prophet.” ¹⁰

Most of these references to other books seem to function primarily as bibliographical references in a manner similar to modern footnotes. ¹¹ They may be intended for those who want to know more than what is disclosed in the text itself, or they may be employed in order to give an impression of there being more works out there, already known and incorporated by the referring text, thereby also implying a certain degree of knowledge on the part of its implied author. But did these references have actual or fictional referents?

With the possible exception of two references to “the Holy Book,” which may, with some exegetical acrobatics, perhaps be understood as references to the Bible, ¹² the books referred to in On the Origin of the World are unknown to us among the surviving literature from antiquity. Interestingly, a striking contrast to this can be seen in the text that follows On the Origin of the World in Nag Hammadi Codex II, namely the Exegesis on the Soul. ¹³ Here, we find multiple quotations and references to Genesis, Jeremiah, Hosea, Ezekiel, Acts, 1 Corinthians, Ephesians, and even Homer’s Odyssey. ¹⁴ Unlike in On the Origin of the World, all books referred to in the Exegesis on the Soul are known to us, and with the exception of the Homeric text, they are all canonical biblical books, which clearly lend authority to the text’s narrative of the soul’s fall and salvation.

While the Exegesis on the Soul refers to books that are known to us, yet another text in the same codex, the Apocryphon of John, ¹⁵ includes a lengthy passage where the demons who created the various parts of Adam’s body and his various passions, are named. In the middle of this, and seemingly in order to avoid excessive detail, the text suddenly states that “there are other ones in charge of the other remaining passions, which I will not relate to you, but if you wish to know them it is written in the Book of Zoroaster.” ¹⁶ This has led some scholars to conclude that the entire passage about the creation of the human body is lifted straight from this otherwise unattested work. Michael Waldstein and Frederik Wisse, the editors of the synoptic edition of the Apocryphon of John, argue that “the redactor copied” the list of Adam’s body parts “from the Book of Zoroaster,” and conclude that “The excerpt from the Book of Zoroaster is a fitting supplement to the account of the creation of Adam.” ¹⁷ That the passage fits where it appears in the long recension of the Apocryphon of John is clear, but it is not obvious that it was lifted straight from another work, much less a Book of Zoroaster. We should not dismiss the possibility that the Apocryphon of John did not actually know the contents of any Book of Zoroaster, that the referent is purely fictional, and that the reference is made entirely for rhetorical effect.

A somewhat similar case can be found in books two and three (of four) of the Askew Codex. ¹⁸ Like in On the Origin of the World, Book II of the Askew Codex gives a bibliographical reference for those who would like to know more than what is described in the text itself, when it has Jesus saying to his disciples: “These are the three allotments of the Kingdom of Light. The mysteries of these three allotments of light are very many. You will find them in the two great Books of Jeu.” ¹⁹ Jesus also lets his disciples know that while he will tell them about the greater mysteries, they may read about the lesser ones, which are not as important, in the Books of Jeu: “the rest of the lesser mysteries you do not need, but you will find them in the two Books of Jeu, which Enoch wrote.” ²⁰ The author attribution to Enoch is significant, and Jesus supplements this information by telling the disciples where, and from whom, Enoch got his information: “I spoke with him from the Tree of Knowledge and from the Tree of Life in Adam’s Paradise.” ²¹ The information that the Books of Jeu were written by Enoch on the basis of what Jesus told him from the Tree of Knowledge and the Tree of Life is also repeated in Book III of the Askew Codex, but here it is furthermore stressed that the information on the mysteries contained within it is in fact not optional, but necessary for salvation after all, even for the righteous. ²² Jesus even states that he made sure the books were kept safe from the Flood, by having them hidden by Enoch in Mount Ararat and guarded by a ruler. He even promises to give the books to his disciples later, when he is finished with his current discourse. ²³

The apparent existence of two Books of Jeu in what is usually referred to as the Bruce Codex ²⁴ should not lead us to conclude that these are the works referred to in the Askew Codex. Indeed, just like the texts in the Askew Codex are not actually called Pistis Sophia in the manuscript, the so-called Books of Jeu in the Bruce Codex are also not named as such, ²⁵ but have in fact been given this designation by scholars on the basis of the references in the Askew Codex just mentioned. ²⁶ Beyond superficial similarities of theology and imagery there is, however, nothing to confirm such an identification. ²⁷ There is, for instance, no mention of Enoch in the so-called Books of Jeu in the Bruce Codex. The description in the Askew Codex of Enoch writing books in Paradise based on dictation by Jesus is, however, a clever way for those texts to connect prelapsarian knowledge directly to Jesus, at the same time as it hints at additional knowledge of the kind that is divulged in the books of the Askew Codex themselves, revealed by none other than Jesus to another prominent biblical authority like Enoch.

A somewhat different, but related, case can be seen in Nag Hammadi Codex I. ²⁸ Here, we find the so-called Apocryphon of James, ²⁹ where references to otherwise unattested books are used in order to indicate that the one we are currently reading is just one of several such books. First, the narrator, who presents himself as the apostle James, tells the unnamed recipient that he has already sent him “ten months ago another secret book (apocryphon), which the Savior revealed to me.” ³⁰ Moreover, on the following page, we are told how the apocryphon we are presently reading and, as is implied here, many other books like it, were produced: “The twelve disciples were all sitting down together, remembering what the Savior had said to each one of them, whether in secret or openly, and arranging it in books. And [as for me], I wrote the things that are in [my book].” ³¹ As with the references in On the Origin of the World and the Apocryphon of John, these references can be read as rhetorical references to nonexistent books, even though the rhetorical function is slightly different in this case, evoking specifically the existence of other books authored by the apostles.

Something similar is done in the Askew Codex, where additional apostolic books are likewise hinted at. In Book I, we are told that it is Philip who writes down what Jesus is saying in his discourse with the disciples, thus indicating that it is Philip who is to be regarded as the author of this work. ³² In addition, Jesus tells Philip who else will write down his secret teachings: “Listen, blessed Philip, who spoke with me: It is to you and Thomas and Matthew that it is given through the first mystery to write down every word that I will say and those things that I will do, and together with everything that you (pl) will see.” ³³ None of the known works attributed to these figures fit this description. The passage nevertheless fulfills the function of giving the impression of there being many more books and even more detailed teachings “out there,” and it lays the groundwork for the actual composition of such books to fit the description.

Fictional books embedded in other books

A different use of fictional books can be seen in a commonly used trope found in a range of Coptic apocrypha preserved in manuscripts produced after the Arab conquest of Egypt. This is the embedding within a different work, wholly or in part, of a fictional book supposedly written by one or more apostles and often said to have been deposited in a library in Jerusalem, where it was later rediscovered. ³⁴ In a similar way to the reference to apostolic book-production in the Apocryphon of James and in Book I of the Askew Codex, this motif serves to indicate the existence of a great number of additional apostolic works, through the idea that the apostles authored and compiled many more books than those included in the biblical canon.

Let us take a closer look at one example of the embedding of a fictional apostolic book in one such post-conquest work. In the extended title ³⁵ of a sermon copied in a manuscript produced in Esna in 981 and donated to the Monastery of Mercurius at Edfu, ³⁶ we read that the fifth-century Archbishop Timothy of Alexandria got hold of an apostolic book while on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem: “When he went to Jerusalem to worship the cross of our Savior and his life-giving tomb, on the seventeenth day of the month of Thoth, he searched among the books in the library of Jerusalem, these which our holy fathers the apostles had composed and placed in it.” ³⁷ With the help of an old priest he found one such apostolic book called the Investiture of Abbaton, the Angel of Death. ³⁸ In what is presented as the patristic “sermon,” referred to as the Encomium on Abbaton the Angel of Death, the pseudonymous archbishop proceeds to “quote” from the Investiture of Abbaton after having given a detailed description of how he got hold of the book. ³⁹ The extended “quotation” from the embedded book consists mostly of a postresurrection dialogue between Christ and his apostles just before his ascent into heaven, where, prompted by his disciples’ questions, he describes at length all they want to know about Abbaton’s responsibilities, appearance, and role in various historical and future events. The embedded book then ends with Christ telling his apostles to go out into the world and preach, before he ascends into heaven accompanied by angels. ⁴⁰

Having finished “quoting” from the apostolic book, Ps-Timothy then addresses his fictive Alexandrine audience, saying: “Look! These things we have told you, O my beloved, from those (books) we found in the library of Jerusalem, these which our holy fathers composed and placed within it for the faith and salvation of the unbelievers.” ⁴¹ Just like the Gospel of John lets us know that Christ said and did much that is not described in that Gospel, and that the world would scarcely be able to contain all the books that could be written about it, ⁴² Ps-Timothy indicates that the book on the Investiture of Abbaton that he quotes in his sermon is just one of many books written by the apostles and deposited in their Jerusalem library. Of course, both the apostolic book, the library where it was found, and the sermon in which it is embedded are all literary fictions. It must here be pointed out that Ps-Timothy’s Encomium on Abbaton the Angel of Death is by no means alone among Coptic works from this period in utilizing this practice of embedding ostensibly apostolic books in pseudepigraphic homilies containing more or less elaborate book-discovery narratives detailing how the book in question was acquired. ⁴³

The details regarding the discovery, authorship, and deposition of these books are all part and parcel of a literary technique that has been aptly described as “pseudo-documentarism” by scholars of Greco-Roman literature. Drawing upon the work of Tomas Hägg, ⁴⁴ William Hansen has treated it in depth and described the practice as “an author’s untrue allegation that he (or she) has come upon an authentic document of some sort that he (or she) is drawing upon or passing on to his (or her) readers.” ⁴⁵ Hansen highlights its function as an authentication strategy, and points out that there are many “instances in antiquity of written works introduced by an authenticating preface falsely claiming that the document was written by an extraordinary man, that it is very old, and that it has come into the hands of the present editor by chance or after much effort.” ⁴⁶ Hansen also notes that pseudo-documentarism “dissociates an author from his (or her) text, which is represented as having been authored by someone else at another time and place,” ⁴⁷ and argues that it brings the reader closer to the world of the fiction, ⁴⁸ that is, it transports them to the lifetime of the pseudonymous author to which the work has been attributed.

Similarly, Karen ní Mheallaigh, another scholar of classical literature, observes that pseudo-documentary fiction “provided readers with a portal through which they could access, imaginatively, the lost world of the past, especially the literary past, and do so directly without the obfuscatory influences of intervening centuries of interpretation and commentary.” ⁴⁹ Among the pseudo-documentary techniques used in Roman fiction, which also turn out to fit our Coptic apocryphal book-discovery narratives very well, she mentions the inclusion of an abundance of detail regarding names, places, and events, “celebrity connections,” as well as “an emphasis on the material nature of the ancient text,” and on the chain of transmission. ⁵⁰ Indeed, as she puts it, “the reader is made to feel involved in a thrilling and ongoing process of transmission.” ⁵¹ Simply put, the reader is given all the links in the chain separating him or her from the time in which the embedded narrative takes place, thus simultaneously facilitating access to and bestowing authority on its contents. ⁵²

Moreover, quite apart from the pseudo-documentary aspects of the embedded apostolic books in these pseudepigraphic Coptic homilies, it must be pointed out that the practice of embedding narratives within narratives is itself a far more universal phenomenon. As William Nelles points out, “the structure of embedded narrative is ubiquitous in the literature of all cultures and periods.” ⁵³ The Arabian Nights or the Canterbury Tales are two of the most famous examples of this. ⁵⁴

How to do things with fictional books

Whether real or purely fictional, references in apocryphal works to other books by title, author, or through alleged quotations, would have a number of shared functions. First, they could lend authority to the referring text in several ways. References to other books might give the impression that there is external support for the text’s claims, at the same time as they signal additional knowledge on the part of its implied author, indicating that he is well-read and highly knowledgeable. References to fictional books can thus function as artificial footnotes, or what Edward Maloney has called “artificial paratexts,” ⁵⁵ which are paradoxically “more often than not used to bolster the perceived realism of the narrative and not to foreground its artificial or constructed nature.” ⁵⁶ Bibliographical references that could function like footnotes, ⁵⁷ and references to the production and existence of a vast collection of largely unknown apostolic books, also extend a work’s narrative boundaries and widen its intertextual context, giving the impression of there being much more out there to be known and read, and that would bolster the argument of the referring text.

Moreover, I would argue that an important effect, whether intended or not, of such references to non-existing books as those found in the apocrypha discussed above, was to contribute to the cumulative expansion of the biblical storyworld. ⁵⁸ While the biblical storyworld is ultimately based on the canonical biblical texts, the way in which it is constructed in the mind of a reader will always be influenced by the reading of any story set in it, whether canonical or not, including apocryphal works expanding upon its characters and events. It is by nature both transnarrative and transauthorial, and the apocrypha simply provide additional blueprints and building blocks for its construction, ⁵⁹ making sure that it is continually being adapted, and adaptable, as new narratives are added, while others fade into obscurity. A comparable case can be seen in what Sara Iles Johnston has referred to as “the Greek Mythic Story World.” She highlights the functions of the transnarrative aspects of the storyworld, and argues that “each contribution that the narration of a myth made to believe in a given hero or god simultaneously contributed to belief in a larger divine world more generally.” ⁶⁰ The Greek Mythic storyworld thus functions as a transauthorial and transnarrative mechanism where individual stories set in it mutually reinforce their believability and authority. The more narratives, the richer the storyworld. The same would hold true with regard to individual Coptic apocrypha in relation to the biblical storyworld. References in the apocrypha to the existence of other books “out there,” including additional books authored by apostles or prophets, would thus extend and add depth to the storyworld by spurring readers’ imagination, suggesting the existence of a multitude of books elaborating on it, at the same time as they would lay the groundwork for the production of yet more narratives that could provide additional texture and building blocks, while claiming special authority for their own adaptations and embellishments.

An important question to ask is what difference it makes for readers’ mental simulation of a storyworld, like the biblical, whether the additional, hitherto unknown, books referred to by title, author, quotation, or paraphrase of alleged contents, were real or imaginary? One could argue that for readers who were not familiar with the cited books, the function within the referring texts would be very much the same regardless of whether the books referred to were real or not—as long as readers trusted their veracity, or at least as long as they would entertain the possibility that these were in fact real existing books rather than fictions.

In addition to providing the new biblical narratives with patristic as well as apostolic authority, the more elaborate embedding of “apostolic books” within pseudepigraphical Coptic sermons, often containing dialogues between Christ and his apostles, would produce the illusion that their readers have access to the apostles’ own accounts, on a par with the canonical gospels, and thus provide a portal through which readers might be transported into the biblical storyworld far more effectively than through sermons lacking the pretense of containing such an embedded work. Importantly, we might expect this effect to have been significant even among those readers who realized that the pseudo-documentary accounts were not literally true. ⁶¹

On the other hand, one might perhaps also suggest that the further away we get from the canonical New Testament writings’ actual dates of authorship, the need for a good cover story explaining why and how such new texts and teachings of Christ could emerge at such a late date would increase. Significantly, we find these embedded apostolic works, particularly in late Coptic manuscripts, that is, from the ninth to the twelfth centuries. Yet, it is important to remember the fact that we also find apocryphal texts directly attributed to apostles in late manuscripts, even deriving from major monastic manuscript collections. This is the case, for instance, with the Investiture of the Archangel Michael, used in the ninth century at the Monastery of St. Michael in the Fayum ⁶² ; or the Mysteries of John, ⁶³ preserved in an eleventh-century codex from the Monastery of St. Mercurius at Edfu, both attributed directly to the apostle John. Whatever may have motivated the addition of pseudepigraphical frames with book-discovery narratives around newly produced “apostolic books,” did not hinder the appearance of other works with highly similar contents, but without pseudo-documentary frames, in other manuscripts circulating in the same monasteries during the same period of time. Yet, none of the embedded apostolic books seem to have circulated independently of their homiletic frames, despite the logical conclusion that this could easily have been the case. And conversely, none of the apostolic books without homiletic frames are attested in Coptic manuscripts as apostolic books embedded in homilies. While this clear-cut situation could arguably be due to the vagaries of preservation, our current state of knowledge seems to suggest that the embedded apostolic books were originally authored as integral parts of the pseudepigraphical homiletic texts in which they are found, while the highly similar independently circulating “apostolic books” were never embedded within other works.

Apocrypha known only by title

There are also references in the Coptic literature to possibly fictional apocrypha. References to such works can be divided into two main categories. In some cases, we have references to works that are known to have existed by the titles or authors referred to, but where it is unclear whether the referring text bases its references on knowledge of the actual contents of the work in question, or whether it simply makes it up, for rhetorical purposes—or whether the work referred to is in fact identical to the work known to us under this name. In other cases, even the names or authors of the works are completely unknown to us, and may, for all we know, be completely fictional.

The former is the case with the 21st Exegesis on the Virgin Mary, attributed pseudepigraphically to Cyril of Jerusalem, ⁶⁴ but probably originating in Egypt at least a couple of centuries later. In this text, pseudo-Cyril confronts a heretical monk who is said to be using the Gospel of the Hebrews as an authoritative text on par with the four canonical gospels, teaching the heresy that the Virgin Mary was not a real human being, but rather a heavenly power. According to pseudo-Cyril, the Gospel of the Hebrews states that “When Christ wished to come upon the earth to the human beings, the Father called upon a power in the heavens called ‘Micha.’ He entrusted Christ to her and she came down to the world. He called her ‘Mary’ and he remained in her womb for nine months.” ⁶⁵ While a text known as the Gospel of the Hebrews is also quoted by much earlier authorities, the passage quoted in this homily is almost certainly an invention of this particular work, as it bears no resemblance to earlier references to, or quotations from, any work by this title. ⁶⁶ The attribution by pseudo-Cyril of this type of teaching to a Gospel of the Hebrews seems rather to have been done in order to taint the idea of Mary’s heavenly origin simultaneously with an association to both an apocryphal gospel and to the Jews. Indeed, anti-Jewish polemic was quite common in contemporary Coptic pseudepigraphical homilies with apocryphal materials, ⁶⁷ of which pseudo-Cyril’s 21st Exegesis on the Virgin Mary is a representative example. Importantly, though, its polemics against the heretical Gospel of the Hebrews does not hinder the text from itself elaborating upon the characters and events of the biblical storyworld.

Polemical references to possibly fictional apocrypha can also be found in much earlier Coptic texts. Shenoute of Atripe, archimandrite of the so-called White Monastery in the late fourth and early fifth centuries, refers to a “Gospel of Jesus, the Son of God, the Offspring of the Angels” in his anti-heretical treatise known as I Am Amazed. ⁶⁸ Curiously, this is the only apocryphon Shenoute mentions by title in the surviving parts of I Am Amazed, despite the fact that polemics against the use of apocrypha is one of its main features. But when this apocryphon is mentioned, it seems to be exactly because of its name, and not necessarily because of its contents, for he finds the very idea expressed in this title, that Christ was an offspring of angels, to be profoundly heretical. Since Shenoute does not indicate any knowledge of its contents beyond this, we should not dismiss the possibility that it never existed outside his own polemics.

A couple of centuries later, other Coptic apocrypha known only by title are mentioned by another authority who argued that apocryphal literature should be banned. John of Parallos, a bishop in Lower Egypt, wrote a heresiological treatise against heretical books around the year 600. In this work, he describes his heretical opponents in the following way:

these blasphemous people are truly more evil than the Jews and the lawless unclean pagans. For they have written books with all sorts of blasphemies, such as these: The (book) called the Investiture of Michael (ⲡⲧⲁϩⲟ ⲉⲣⲁⲧ︤ϥ︥ ⲙ̄ⲙⲓ̈ⲭⲁⲏⲗ), and the Teachings of John (ⲡⲕⲉⲣⲏⲕⲙⲁ ⲛ̄ⲓ̈ⲱϩⲁⲛⲛⲏⲥ), and the Laughter of the Apostles (ⲡⲥⲱⲃⲉ ⲛ̄ⲛⲁⲡⲟⲥⲧⲟⲗⲟⲥ), ⁶⁹ and the Doctrines of Adam (ⲛⲉⲥⲃⲟⲟⲩⲉ ⲛ̄ⲁⲇⲁⲙ), and the Counsel of the Savior (ⲡϣⲟϫⲛⲉ ⲙ̄ⲡⲥⲱⲧⲏⲣ), and all the blasphemous words they have written down. They have abandoned the light of the Holy Scriptures by which the prophets and the apostles and all the fathers, the teachers of the church, have strengthened the orthodox faith. ⁷⁰

The likelihood that these texts may have existed is heightened by the confirmed existence of one of these works, namely the abovementioned Investiture of the Archangel Michael, since its contents also match what is preserved of John of Parallos’ description of it.

Among the ideas professed by the Investiture of Michael, and which John of Parallos regarded as heretical, was the idea that Michael was invested in place of the Devil, who allegedly had this position originally, but who lost it due to his refusal to worship Adam. In a pseudepigraphical work attributed to Gregory of Nazianzus, said to have been written in response to a question from an archimandrite named Eusebius, who is supposed to have resided in a monastery at Mt. Ararat in Armenia, Ps-Gregory attributes this idea to the arch-heretic Mani, and goes on to refute this idea by arguing that the Devil fell prior to the creation of Adam. ⁷¹ While Ps-Gregory refutes what he claims to be Mani’s heretical teachings, he also engages in his own apocryphal embellishments of this part of the biblical storyworld at the same time as he claims that this part of history was not known to the apostles. However, rather than attributing this information to a written work, this text appeals instead to direct revelation following intense prayer. ⁷² Similarly, in Ps-Peter of Alexandria’s homily, On Riches, ⁷³ the idea that Michael replaced the Devil is attributed to the heretic Enotes, and a book of “Genesis” (ⲅⲉⲛⲉⲥⲓⲥ) this heretic is supposed to have written in opposition to the true Book of Genesis written by Moses; while the idea that the devil refused to worship Adam is attributed to another heretic named Sietes. ⁷⁴

Like we saw in the discussions of the ontological status of the Virgin Mary in Ps-Cyril of Jerusalem’s homily, then, polemics over correct teaching raged in both apocryphal and nonapocryphal works, and with references to both real and fictional heretical books and their supposed authors. While the objectionable teaching on Virgin Mary, highlighted by Ps-Cyril, was attributed to the Hebrews, that is, to the Jews, controversial ideas regarding the Devil and his fall from heaven could be attributed to named arch-heretics and thus be effectively branded as false by association.

Heavenly books

Finally, another category of imaginary books could be mentioned. These are books whose fictionality is on an entirely different level—books that are clearly not of this world—books that have their existence exclusively within, and never outside of, the biblical storyworld. Arguably the most prominent example is the Book of Life, in which the names of all those who will be saved are said to be written down. This book, ultimately based upon a reference in Psalm 69, ⁷⁵ but especially prominent in Revelation, ⁷⁶ is referenced and developed in many later apocryphal works. The aforementioned Encomium on Abbaton by Ps-Timothy of Alexandria, for instance, makes sure to point out that God wrote down in this book the names of those who would be saved already before he gave the breath of life to Adam, thus emphasizing God’s ultimate power and authority, as well as his foreknowledge of the fall and subsequent salvation history. Yet, the text contradicts itself later on, when it has Jesus say to his disciples that he will himself add to the Book of Life the names of anyone who will copy the book about Abbaton’s investiture, that is, the fictional book embedded in pseudo-Timothy’s encomium. By extension, then, anyone copying pseudo-Timothy’s encomium would be added to the Book of Life. ⁷⁷

There are also other heavenly writings. In Revelation chapter 20, we hear about several books being opened together with the Book of Life at the final judgment, and that the dead will be judged on the basis of the contents of these books. In the Coptic sermon On the Four Bodiless Living Creatures, attributed to John Chrysostom, we find the patriarch Enoch among the scribes of these books, and we are told how he got his current role as “the scribe of righteousness” who writes down the sins of men. ⁷⁸ In the apostolic book embedded in this pseudepigraphical sermon, Jesus tells his disciples that it was because he was taken up to heaven in the body that Enoch got this task since this makes him an ideal intercessor between humanity and the godhead. His place is beside the bodiless living creature with a human face with whom he speaks in order that it may in turn speak to God on humanity’s behalf. ⁷⁹ We are also told that Enoch thus takes the place of a previous angelic scribe, namely Mefriel the angel. Enoch was more suitable for this role than Mefriel, we are told, because the latter was bodiless, while Enoch was taken up to heaven in the body. ⁸⁰

Another heavenly writing is referred to in the so-called Death of Joseph the Carpenter, ⁸¹ a work that, like the embedded book in the Pseudo-Chrysostom homily just mentioned, and the one in Ps-Timothy, Encomium on Abbaton, is attributed to the apostles. Here, we read about Jesus telling his apostles that he had written down heavenly prayers, which he used when anointing the body of Joseph, his father according to the flesh, who had just passed away: “I poured water on the body of my beloved father Joseph and anointed it with fragrant oil. I prayed to my good Father in the heavens with heavenly prayers, which I had written with my own fingers on the tablets of heaven before I took flesh in the holy Virgin Mary.” ⁸² With this reference to heavenly tablets inscribed by Christ, the text also recalls the ten commandments, said to be originally inscribed on tablets of stone by God himself, ⁸³ and establishes the heavenly preordained nature of the incarnation and the entire salvation history.

The reality of the fictional

With the exception of such heavenly books, we have seen that it is not always easy to distinguish between books that never existed at all and books that are simply lost to us, but which existed at the time they were being referred to. The question, however, is what difference it makes. Although fictional books do not, strictly speaking, exist in the real world, they may nevertheless exist in people’s imagination, once they are referred to in oral or written discourse. Moreover, things that only exist in people’s imagination can sometimes have an impact on their attitudes, beliefs, and emotions that may be just as powerful as references to things that exist in reality. ⁸⁴ Research on the impact of fiction on people’s beliefs and emotions here provides us with transferable insights on the impact of fictional books. Jeffrey J. Strange, for instance, has shown how stories about “invented characters in imaginary situations influence readers’ judgments about people, problems, and institutions in the everyday world.” ⁸⁵ As Strange points out, “Once in memory, story-world assertions may migrate to a reasoner’s real-world belief space when they are temporarily dissociated from the nonfactive context in which they are embedded.” In other words, fictional references to books, or references to fictional books, could easily influence readers’ impressions of the existence and availability of additional literature and their contents and authorship. In addition, as Richard Gerrig has argued, far from the influence of fiction on real-world beliefs being a coincidence, “special effort is required to prevent such information from affecting real-world beliefs.” ⁸⁶ He suggests that one of the reasons why fictional information affects real-world judgments is that “even when readers actively try to discredit fictional information, they may have called to mind other beliefs that will persevere after the fiction itself has been accepted.” ⁸⁷ In other words, once fictional information has been associated with other beliefs, it becomes difficult to remove from memory and from associative cognitive processes even when people actively try to do so. References to fictional books could thus not only affect readers’ mental constructions of the biblical storyworld and their understanding of the corpus of literature pertaining to it, but ultimately also their beliefs and attitudes in general, whether they, or the gatekeepers of biblical literature, liked it or not.