I was curious about this book and I can say it was an entertaining and informative read.
It's well researched and well written, I loved the style of writing and the clarity of the explanations.
It's highly recommended.
Many thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for this ARC, all opinions are mine

I was excited to read this book as a person who likes to learn about the material culture of books, but I will end up recommending that many of my colleagues at work read it for the really interested medical ethics discussion throughout. Honestly, sign me up for anything The Order of the Good Death folks do--all the better if it's from a Librarian to boot.

Anthropodermic bibliopegy: the practice of binding books in human skin.
This book gave me the best idea ever for what I want to do with my body when I die as a bookworm. Just wow. I never considered this a possibility before and the author has opened up a gate I never knew existed and took me to a whole new world filled with books bound with human skin. Amazing!
This book contains well-researched interesting facts as the author takes un on an unconventional adventure in search of these books. I thought they would give out some kind of weird vibe, that they would be easily recognized but it takes a lot of research and examination to determine if their covers are really made of human skin because they look ordinary! But don’t be fooled their stories and histories are much more interesting and the author “rehumanizes these dehumanized parts” of actual people by telling the real life stories and creates an incredible collection worth reading. A stimulating read recommended for bibliophiles.

I was provided an advanced copy of this book by Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

I should admit, I am a bit biased; I am a longtime follower (and member) of the Order of the Good Death, as well as Twitter follower of Megan Rosenbloom. I have studied death and dying and Immortality Theory in college and postgrad - so this book is right in my wheelhouse.

I am such a nerd when it comes to history and all of the answers to "but why?" and "but how?" - I need to know the inner workings, not just of what you're examining, but of the rationale of the person who decided it needed to exist. Rosenbloom did an incredible job of this - and with incredible care and consideration for all people and scientific research involved.

I work in a library, and had heard about books bound in human skin before, so I was curious enough to read this book. There is a long history to it, and the author does a good job of explaining everything. I'd recommend this if you are interested in this kind of information. I would also recommend The Midnight Library podcast's episode on it if you need it in smaller doses.

Megan Rosenbloom’s Dark Archive: A Librarian’s Investigation introduces readers to books bound in human skin. As a library student, Rosenbloom first saw anthropodermic books in an inconspicuously placed glass display case at the Mütter Museum in Philadelphia, a medical oddities museum she describes as “the kind of place that encourages a mix of eager fascination and quiet mortality contemplation.” What caught her attention was that the row of what looked like normal old leather-bound books was displayed with the covers closed.

She was shocked when learning that doctors most commonly had such books custom bound for their collections, one by a Civil War doctor from the skin of a soldier who had been his patient. Many questions went through her head. She found herself wondering about the authors, the lives and deaths of the people whose skin covered the books, the book binders who agreed to custom bind a book such a book, the collectors who paid to have the books bound that way, the libraries that preserve the books for future research, the researchers who study the books, and more. “When I rehumanze these books, suddenly the scores of human beings who each book has touched cluster in my mind’s eye like a community holding one small object together. That was the story I wanted to know. That was the story I wanted to tell,” she explains.

When she found herself in charge of the medical collection at the University of Southern California seven years later, she realized she was in a position to start answering her questions.

In chapters with intriguing titles such as “Skin Craft,” “The Postmortem Travels of William Corder” and “My Corpse, My Choice,” Rosenbloom opens readers’ eyes and minds to a new world of books she encountered in her world travels, scientific testing to determine authenticity, the tanning process, tales of long ago murders and of the digging up of corpses, and other amazing stories readers must learn for themselves.

Beginning her research “with a healthy dose of morbid curiosity,” Rosenbloom not only talks about books bound in human skin, but also about her own changing views of mortality, immortality, and her professional role as a “caretaker of what remains of the past.”

Thanks to NetGalley, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, and Megan Rosenbloom for providing an advance review copy of this fascinating book.

A fascinating read on a particularly macabre kind of book. Rosenbloom investigated the history and science of book bound in skin. Fans of the macabre will enjoy this book.

Despite its ubiquity in our media and news cycle, death remains a taboo subject in the United States. Unless raised in a culture or religion that employs open casket viewings at funerals or part of a field that requires cadavers as educational tools, few Americans interact with the dead – American culture staves off acknowledgement of our own mortality. Megan Rosenbloom seeks to disrupt our reluctance to look death in the eye. Or, in the case of her new book Dark Archives, in the pages.

As the University of California, Los Angeles Collection Strategies Librarian, Rosenbloom entwines her professional capacity with her leadership in the Death Positive movement, which seeks to openly confront mortality and reconceptualise humanity’s relationship to death. Given her credentials, her project on anthropodermic books – that is, books bound in human skin – seems intuitive. But as Dark Archive: A Librarian’s Investigation into the Science and History of Books Bound in Human Skin details, Rosenbloom’s interest in such literature did not happen overnight.

Anthropodermic books are exceedingly rare. Any study therefore has the potential to reveal groundbreaking evidence that may shift our understanding of the materials’ history. Rosenbloom embarks from this premise, and travels from libraries and museums across the United States and Europe to artisan tanneries where she researches the process of utilising human skin in bookbinding. Her investigation spans centuries and geographies, legends and fact.

As one might guess given our species’ morbid curiosity, tall tales from the French Revolution through Nazi Germany litter the history of book binding practices. False claims and misconceptions regarding the use of specific groups of people – including women, poor classes, and people of colour – likewise vary in their veracity. However, as Rosenbloom states, even rumours are worthwhile to analyse: “While sifting out the truth from the rumours and innuendo, we can’t forget that sometimes rumours are the only dissemination method available to the powerless, and innuendo is the coded speech wherein those in power can allude to the unspeakable.” Indeed, the ethical problem of these books has sparked a contentious debate in the world of librarianship.

There is no consensus among librarians of what to do with confirmed anthropodermic books; approaches are as diverse as the books themselves. Whereas some are keen on studying these books, others remain wary. Some even advocate for the books’ destruction, effectively putting their humans to rest. Through the lens of books bound in human skin, Rosenbloom herself concludes, “It is my job—and my privilege—to help cultivate multiple ways of thinking about our relationships with our bodies.” Due to their gruesome nature, we assume anthropodermic books were created by the most evil among us: Nazis, serial killers, blood-lusting bibliophiles. Dark Archives’s exploration of these books’ ethics, however, exposes the mundane readers who created them, such as the nineteenth-century doctors who had access to the requisite materials. Rosenbloom’s investigation further illustrates the parallel lines along which the histories of anthropodermic books and medicine run. The gradual social and legal acceptance of anatomical dissection developed out of similar ethical questions. In a roundabout way, Rosenbloom notes, the infamous body-snatching murderers Burke and Hare were essential to conversations of whose bodies were morally acceptable for such work.

Reminiscent of Mary Roach, Rosenbloom’s tone is inquisitive and, at turns, morbidly funny and deeply contemplative. Often, her histories are concurrently solemn and amusing, as is the case of George Walton, an affable criminal with a knack for escaping from prison. On his deathbed, Walton requested that his body be used to bind books. His skin now covers two books. Rosenbloom sustains Dark Archives with thought-provoking accounts like these throughout, presenting various histories and perspectives with respect, sensibility and, yes, humour. At its best, Dark Archives is a personal examination of our own post-mortem afterlives and their muddy ethical waters. She delicately walks her reader through her own position, arguing that though we cannot stop past bindings, we can nevertheless learn from what they’ve left us and honour them by preservation.

We can revel with a morbid gaze at the strangeness of anthropodermic books, but Rosenbloom’s investigation forces readers to reflect on our own relationship to medicine and exploitation of the dead. And as Rosenbloom takes pains to emphasise, death doesn’t have to be doom and gloom. At least not all the time.

An interesting, intriguing nonfiction book about books. Especially perfect for fans of THE LIBRARY BOOK by Susan Orlean who also want to dip their toe in the macabre and gruesome.

I've always been fascinated by the concept of binding books with human skin, because I went to Brown University and have worked with the John Hay Library, where they keep the university's collection of anthropodermic books. Unfortunately never got to see them in person (though hopefully one day I'll come back), but the history behind how these books came to be, as well as the texts chosen to be decorated in such a morbid fashion, are fascinating. Love the discussions on ethics for these rare objects: what is our duty to preserve history, and how does that measure up against the sanctity and dignity of human life? This makes me think of things like museums featuring instruments of torture, or keeping things like guillotines and executioners chair for posterity, and even some famous examples of keeping images of the dead (thinking in particular about the death mask Tussaud took of Marie Antoinette's head, and how that is one of the most famous images of the queen).

When I learned of the existence of books bound with human skin, I was partly disgusted but mainly intrigued, so I was thrilled to learn there was a new book about anthropodermic bibliopegy (the technical term) and couldn't wait to read it. And DARK ARCHIVES did not disappoint.

Disclosure: I've been an archivist for nearly 30 years, which does not make me an expert on rare books, but I know a little bit about them. Due to my background, I was a little surprised by the shock from people I told about the book I was reading. Rest assured--anthropodermic books are very rare (less than 50 known). You're not likely to inadvertently check one out of your public library, or even encounter one if you visit a rare books library.

Author Megan Rosenbloom--a former medical librarian and journalist--explains the background, science, and stories of some of the books that were claimed or actually were anthropodermic. The only remotely gross part of the book is the section on tanning, which put me off leather goods a bit (and made me more curious about my tannery-owning ancestors).

Granted, this book isn't for everyone, but for those interested in history, rare books, archives, etc., I highly recommend it. Also, the dark archives referenced in the title is related to the provenance of anthropodermic books. Strangely, some collectors don't boast about owning books bound with human skin. Go figure. #DarkArchives #NetGalley

Netgalley provided an advanced copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Part medical history and part conservation or rare items, this book is the author's first hand account of exploring the world of anthropodermic books. As a librarian/archivist/weird museum piece lover, I enjoyed the first hand accounts of the author as she traveled and tested books for human skin. Her descriptions and thoughts at getting to experience rare pieces behind the scenes felt extremely true to my own experiences. You never fully know what you have, you only have the stories and provenance given to you.

Her dive into medical history and the reason these books exist was extremely interesting. Answering the major question of "But why though?" helped with such a macabre topic. I think my favorite part was the preservation and conservation aspects of the book, but again, I'm an MLIS holder with a concentration in archives so I don't know how interesting this would be to the average reader, but I was hooked.

All in all, this topic is right up my alley, but I don't know how well this would translate to a larger audience. I look forward to recommending and discussing it with those who are interested in learning more.

Dark Archives by Megan Rosenbloom is a non-fiction book about books bound in human skin. A perfect read for the spooky season for those that don’t mind their reads to be a little macabre. Warning that this is not for the squeamish.
The author explores the science and historical accounts behind anthropodermic bibliopegy, in a respectful and engaging way. I was surprised to find that I enjoyed finding out about how books are cared for and how they test the books to see if they are in fact bound in human skin. I really enjoyed the stories behind the people that collected these books and the exploration of the morality of such.
I just wish there was more as it was a little short.
Definitely recommend!

This is a book about which I said, “Wow, librarians do research like this?” Megan Rosenbloom tells the details of her search to find anthropodermic books…books with covers made of human skin. I expected the book to be a lot more creepy---perfect for October reading, but instead it was a fascinating, knowledgeable look at a complex issue. Miss Rosenbloom is a terrific storyteller taking the scientific and historical details and making what could be dry information into an intriguing book filled with detail and accuracy.

I love a good science nonfiction that goes hand-in-hand with my history loving soul, add in books, and this near-perfect blend of the three. This is absolutely captivating, although it could have been longer, but probably not for those without the morbid curiosity like myself.

This is a perfect book for Spooky Season. Books made of Human Skin. HUMAN SKIN! Megan Rosenbloom delves into the history of book binding with HUMAN SKIN!

HUMAN SKIN!!!

This is well research and informative - and completely morbid. I loved it.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for the opportunity.

I picked this book up because it seemed like a suitably creepy, macabre read for October. What I didn't realize was that it was written by a librarian and while it is creepy and macabre, it is also super thoughtful, extremely well researched, and not sensationalist at all.

That being said there are some pretty graphic descriptions of books bound in human skin, collections of medical oddities and various other gruesome incidents. and objects I was impressed with how Rosenbloom handled these pieces with such obvious humanity and empathy for the actual people involved. It is clear that she has a firm handle on the ethics (and frequent lack thereof) of the subject she is covering and in my opinion that makes this book an even more interesting examination of the practice.

Obviously this book was 100% in my own readership wheelhouse, but I would recommend this book to spooky nerds, folks who enjoyed Mary Roach's <i>Stiff</i> and anyone interested in this strange intersection of the strange and the scholarly.

A fascinating look into the history of books bound in human skin - fancily called ‘anthropodermic bibliopegy’ - by a death-positive bibliophile medical librarian.

This book appealed to me for many reasons - one, it’s about rare books; two, it’s medical history; three, it’s written by a librarian who is one of the founders of Death Salons and an advocate of death positivity ... and four, it starts out in the Mutter Museum (a medical history museum that I did a huge project on as a museum studies undergrad)!

This book reminded me a bit of the Library Book (by Susan Orlean), as it wasn’t just a book of dry historical fact, and instead read as a bunch of different things - it was a mystery and a thriller, a travelogue, a historical investigation, and a sociological text, all in one. Rosenbloom’s journey as a medical librarian and her initial introduction to human skin books is a fascinating one, and the level of detail, curiosity, and respect she has as she investigates these curiosities is impressive (and made me a little jealous - I’d love to handle as many rare books as she gets to)!

An eye-opening, sometimes somber look at a subject not many people know about (or think they care to know about), this book would be perfect for medical history nerds, bibliophiles, museumphiles (is that a word? It is now), death-positive folks, and anyone curious about the myriad ways that humans have figured out how to preserve bits of themselves throughout the centuries.

I received an advanced copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. Out October 20, 2020.

The writing is conversational and informative. I found the whole topic of anthropodernic bibliopegy fascinating, and I would recommend this book to anyone who likes the history of books and/or medicine.

Fascinating book for the morbidly curious! A thoughtful and well=researched dive on the haunting histories of oddities.

“When I rehumanize these books, suddenly the scores of human beings whom each book has touched cluster in my mind’s eye like a community together holding one small object. That was the story I wanted to know. That was the story I wanted to tell. I never would have guessed that a lineup of innocent-looking books in a glass museum case would take over my life.”

Dark Archives by Megan Rosenbloom is a deep dive into the history of bookbinding—with human skin. As a lover of history, libraries, and all things macabre, I was immediately captivated by this book.

Rosenbloom has succeeded in unearthing a relatively obscure chapter in medical history, bringing it to life, and raising thought-provoking ethical questions. As she pulled me into the dark but spellbinding world of anthropodermic bibliopegy, Rosenbloom’s obsession became my own. This book gave me chills left and right, but I also couldn’t look away. The author takes us on a journey through time to uncover the origins and evolution of binding books with human skin. We’re introduced to all sorts of fascinating characters and records that were (unsurprisingly) left out of mainstream textbooks: night doctors, the morbid history of human dissection, and the broader sociocultural conditions that fostered these practices. She also manages to do it without being sensationalistic—the book is well-sourced and she's upfront about the limitations in research and gaps in history. Dark Archives sits at the intersection of so many disciplines—science, medicine, ethics, and culture—it could’ve easily gone dry, but Rosenbloom managed to weave the pieces together expertly and eloquently.

If you’re squeamish, this may not be your cup of tea—but for curious souls who want a thoughtful take on haunting histories and obscurities, grab a mug, curl up in front of the fireplace, and let yourself be transported.