Bibliosmia

Bibliosmia (pronounced bib-lee-oz-mee-ah)

(1) The pleasant aroma issuing from (usually older) books.

(2) The smell of books, pleasing or not (contested).

2014: A compound word, the construct being biblio- + -osmia, bibliosmia was a neologism coined by English academic Dr Oliver Tearle and released into the wild in a (since deleted) tweet on X (then called Twitter) on 24 February 2014; the original definition was “the act of smelling books”.  Biblio was (via an uncertain path) from the Ancient Greek βιβλίον (biblíon) (small book) which originally was a diminutive of βίβλος (bíblos) (book), from βύβλος (búblos) (papyrus) (the name from the ancient Phoenician city of Byblos, which manufactured and exported papyrus to be used as writing material).  In Esperanto (the most widely used of the IALs (international auxiliary language), construction of which began late in the nineteenth century) Biblio meant “Bible” and thus was always capitalized.  The constructed suffix –(o)smia was from the Latin osmia, nominative, accusative & vocative plural of osmium, from the Ancient Greek ὀσμή (osmḗ), (stench, stink), referring to the smell of its tetroxides (any oxide containing four oxygen atoms in each molecule).  Deconstructed, bibliosmia translates as “booksmell” which sounds less than compelling and is an indication why Dr Tearle turned to Ancient Greek for a veneer of linguistic respectability.  He risked the wrath of the purists who don’t approve of mixing Greek with Latin when forming neologisms but doubtless would note the constructed suffix came ultimately from the Greek.  Bibliosmia is a noun.  Because it remains a neologism not yet acknowledged even by descriptive dictionaries (ie those which document language as it’s used rather than listing “standard words”), there are no derive forms but plausibly some could be constructed as needed including:

Bibliosmiaphile: One who loves the smell of old books (or all books if one accepts the more recent, wider definition of bibliosmia).

Bibliosmiaphilia: The love of the smell of books.

Bibliosmiaphobia: An aversion to the smell of books which really would be a thing because many have heightened sensitivity to odors; theis neen not have anything to do with a dislike of books.

Bibliosmic: The adjectival form.

Bibliosmatous: Another adjectival form.

Bibliosmiac: A noun which could be used of those with the predilection (or re-purposed as an adjective).

Dr Tearle is a lecturer in English at Loughborough University in the English county of Leicestershire and curates the blog Interesting Literature: A Library of Literary Interestingness.  His neologism bibliosmia has (to a small but appreciative audience) proved a popular addition to the tongue but bibliophiles are a tough crowd to please and there has been only restrained enthusiasm for his offering colygraphia (writer's block).  The construct of colygraphia was coly- +. graphia.  Coly- (which is used also as “cœly-”) was not a standard Greek prefix; it was a phonetic constructed from the Ancient Greek κολύω (kolýō) (I hinder, prevent, obstruct, forbid) which was related to κόλυσις (kólysis) (hindrance, prevention).  The suffix -graphia (which Latin picked up as –graphia) was from the Ancient Greek –γραφία, from the noun γραφή (graphḗ) (writing, drawing, description, or representation) from the root verb γράφω (gráphō) (to write, to draw, to inscribe).

Noted bibliosmiaphile Lindsay Lohan with books.

The different fates of bibliosmia (which has been embraced) and colygraphia (which has been ignored except by sites listing it as a word which has been ignored) illustrate how words are little different from memes or pop songs: some catch on and some don’t.  Bibliosmia had the advantage of being a word which evoked in many a fond memory and when defined, probably summoned in the senses a memory of such a smell (even one imagined) and smell is a powerful trigger.  By contrast, for most, “writer’s block” wouldn’t have a positive association.  The book fiends might have been impressed more by a construct like laudagraphia or porlocgraphia (allusions to Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s (1772-1834) now discounted excuse for bouts of writer’s block) and while neither exactly stick to the conventions of word construction, the respectability of the literary connection will be compensation.

Aroma Retail explains the chemistry of the smell of books, old & new.

It’s the interaction of chemical processes over time which lends old books the characteristic smell so many seem genuinely to enjoy.  Because there are regional and historic variations in the ways books have been produced, the fragrances which waft from the leaves can vary and this is something subject also to the environment in which the volumes are stored (temperature, light, air quality, humidity etc).  Because books contain a mix (which as technology evolved became more complex) of VOCs (volatile organic compounds), as materials (paper, ink, binding adhesives) fragment and degrade, tiny particles of solids are separated and microscopic volumes of gas are trapped; when a book is opened, some of these fragments some of the gas is released, propelled into the surrounding atmosphere by the pressure created by the movement of the pages.  Mildew or mold (found especially where storage conditions are less than ideal (especially regarding exposure to moisture)) can contribute their own musty or earthy odor but mostly it’s a product of slow chemical decomposition and can be thought a kind of olfactory record of time, materials, and conditions.  The mechanical processes which produce the scent includes:

(1) Lignin breakdown. Lignin is a natural polymer in wood pulp and was once commonly used in the production of paper; as it degrades, it produces vanillin (the same compound that gives vanilla its smell), along with phenols and other aromatic compounds.  Among the most significant of the compounds contributing to the palette of “old book smells” are toluene which produces sweet aromas & furfural which adds almond and coffee overtones.  Combined with the vanilla-like emanations from vanillin, what emerges is a sweet aroma and this is part of the appeal, our fondness for the sweet pre-dating even the emergence of the human species and related to our eternal quest for fat, salt & sugar.

(2) Cellulose degradation: Paper is composed largely of cellulose and this breaks down into compounds like furfural and acetaldehyde (both of which contribute to sweet, almond-like or grassy smells).

(3) Acetic and other acids: These give off a slightly vinegar-like tang, something exacerbated by being stored in places with high humidity.

(4) Binding glues and leather: Before the development of modern, mass-produced synthetics, most glues were animal-based (the origin of the nickname “glue factory” for the knackeries where “slow racehorses” were sent for “processing”) and these typically, over time (and again influenced by environmental conditions) released a musty or slightly sweet odor.  Leather bindings contribute aldehydes and other organic compounds, each with a distinctive scent.

Bibliosmia (n.) The smell and aroma of old or good books (2022) by Kendaric Imahso & Mirana Imahso.  A journal of 110 pages, it's described as a Reading Log, Bookworm Journal, Book Review, Book Lovers Organizer & Bibliophile’s Logbook Paperback.

This is the stuff which people smell and what aficionados call bibliosmia.  As a technical point, although there’s doubtlessly much overlap, not all bibliophiles are bibliosmists.  A bibliophile can be either (1) one who loves books or (2) one who collects books and among the latter, there are many who are interested not at all in the content, focused instead on things rarity, condition (dust jackets a fetish), publication date (first editions much sought), the presence of the author’s signature, perhaps with an inscription (dedicated ideally to someone famous or infamous) and details of construction (hardback; leather bound etc).  While there are collectors who cherish both the object and the text within, many are essentially just traders for whom the value of a book lies in the profits to be made.  Almost all probably notice the odours (there is “new book smell” and “old book smell”) but only some truly relish the experience.

Amorphous Antique Book Perfume Oil. 

Conceptually, oils and sprays which provide an "old book" or "book shop" fragrance are similar to the "leather smell" sprays now available for those with cars with vinyl upholstery.  The best of the modern vinyls are now visually indistinguishable from leather but some still long for the incomparable olfactory experience.  Those with fond memories of hours among the stacks in libraries or browsing through bookshops can at home burn Antique Book Perfume Oil in their oil burners, enhancing the reading experience. 

That experience is a construct and one valued not because of the intrinsic characteristics of the aroma(s) but because of the memories which can be triggered.  Researchers long ago determined smell is a uniquely powerful trigger of memories because of the way the brain processes olfactory information through direct and primal pathways deeply tied (hard-wired the popular if somewhat misleading term) to emotion and memory.  What the neurology community discovered was that uniquely among the five senses, smell was the only one to bypass the thalamus (the brain’s sensory “relay station”), going directly to the olfactory bulb which has intimate connections to (1) the amygdala (governing emotions) and (2) the hippocampus (memory formation).  As an evolutionary advantage, what the arrangement meant was information from a critical sensor of danger (smell) was almost immediately available to the brain’s decision-making process to (1) act upon and (2) store for future reference.  Ultimately, it meant scents can trigger emotional and autobiographical memories immediately and vividly, often before an individual identifies or describes the smell.  Many smell associations are formed in early childhood, a critical period for emotional and sensory development and the memory links remain strong because they were encoded so early in life and it’s believed much of this strength comes from smell being fully-formed long before language, meaning there early recollections remain eternally raw and unfiltered.