The best Jewish paranormal literature

Zimler’s earlier novel, The Last Kabbalist of Lisbon, presented masterful prose in the genres of historical fiction, mystery, and thriller.

The Warsaw Anagrams continued in this vein: a murder mystery set amidst the horrors of the Warsaw Ghetto. For me, it was a “can’t-put-it-down” novel, and I was absolutely captivated by the author’s design. He has the ibbur – in this case, the late Dr. Erik Cohen – tell the story to Heniek Corben, and what a profound tale it is! 

 To the best of my knowledge, The Warsaw Anagrams was the first novel to present an ibbur, and it prompted my own efforts. I hope that my novella will in turn encourage other authors to consider using this material from the Jewish shtetlach of a lost era. 

Perhaps the best-known play in the Yiddish canon, The Dybbuk has spawned other cinematic, dramatic, and literary efforts.

Of course, the dybbuk is, by definition, a malevolent entity: a dead spirit unwilling to depart; instead it takes possession of a living person. In Ansky’s play, the pious Khonen was not necessarily “evil,” but he felt betrayed by Leah’s engagement to Menashe, took possession of “his” intended, and had to be exorcised by Rabbi Azriel (with the inevitable tragic consequences). 

An ibbur is a benevolent spirit, and in my novella, Benjamin works willingly with Miriam, in order to help her complete her last task. Nevertheless, I feel profoundly indebted to Ansky’s masterful drama, particularly because it presents a more sympathetic dybbuk. This treatment prompted me to offer a more modern ibbur!

The World That We Knew has nothing to do with possession, but it is another “Jewish supernatural” tale.

Hoffman treats the legendary golem, but in this case, she creates a female golem! This brilliant conception unfolds not in the ghetto of 16th-century Prague but during the horrors of World War Two.

We see a unique golem (Ava): a healer who can also speak with the birds (and vanquish enemies, of course). The interactions of the characters amidst the frightful setting are absolutely captivating.

Although tales involving the golem are completely unrelated to narratives involving possession, I found the Hoffman novel most enjoyable. Moreover, it presents yet another modern adaptation of the old legends and myths. Several chapters of The Ibbur’s Tale are also set during World War Two.

This 1988 anthology provides fifty stories, dating from the medieval period to the last century: from central and eastern Europe, the Middle East, and across northern Africa.

Although we find "possession" in several of the narratives, we do not find the ibbur. Nevertheless, some of the demons who take possession of the living are truly evil, and perhaps thus similar to the dybbuk in that regard. Many of the selections read almost like fairy tales, although not all have a "happy ending."

This is by no means a source for the ibbur, but it is a nice introduction to the Jewish supernatural. A few tales are actually rather profound, though most are quite simple. Those unfamiliar with this aspect of Jewish culture might find Schwartz’s anthology a nice place to begin.

This study offers a thorough presentation of the traditional (and non-traditional) Jewish thoughts about various topics, including ghosts and apparitions, magic and superstition, and even reincarnation. However, the main thrust is the analysis of six (presumably) documented accounts of possession by spirits and subsequent exorcisms. 

I have listed this work for two reasons. First, it underscores the significance of possession within a community not known for performing exorcisms. Then, more personally, I found the presentation challenging, intriguing, and perhaps even provocative. If such malevolent possession has been documented, why not a benevolent ibbur?