Five of my nieces/nephews attended Merricat's Castle School for preschool. I have always wondered how the school got its name but on the few occasions I ran into the proprietors it was always too hectic to ask. But it seems so strange!

I Spit on Your Graves reached the peak of its infamy when it served as an instruction manual for a real-life murderer, whose copy of the book was found on the bedside table next to the murdered body of a prostitute with the following passage circled and underlined: "I again felt that strange sensation that ran up my back as my hand closed on her throat and I couldn't stop myself; it came; it was so strong that I let her go ...". Following this copycat crime, when the book went into reprints, it sold more than 500,000 copies, and Vian was tried for translating "objectionable material" (as Vernon Sullivan was still nowhere to be found). Vian ended up paying a fine of 100,000 francs, and in the summer of 1950 the French government banned any further sales of the book...

The book was adapted into a film with the same title, directed by Michel Gast. Vian had already publicly denounced the adaptation while it was still in production, but he attended the premiere on 23 June, 1959. A few minutes into the screening, he stood up and began to shout out his dissatisfaction with the film, and while doing so he collapsed and died of a sudden cardiac arrest on the way to the hospital.

When he died in 1924, Quinn bequeathed his letters to the New York Public Library, but the courts construed his will as barring publication in any form until 1988. Scholars who have been permitted to read them in the library's Manuscript Room have to sign a special form agreeing not to use direct quotation, and are forbidden to take notes.

But to Kavanagh, these restrictions were outrageously unjust...

In the Manuscript Room, he had no compunction about signing the pledge not to quote from the letters. "To me," he explains, "that paper had no more validity than posting a sign in my flat, 'Not responsible if the roof falls in.' I was driven and had no choice."

For 13 days Kavanagh pored over the letters. Unable to take notes, he simply memorized salient passages, then rushed outside to jot them down. When he had all he wanted he went on to the most arduous task of all: hand-setting the book and printing it...

Kavanagh had not sold a single copy of the Quinn Letters when the library served him with a restraining order, preventing him from distributing the edition and demanding its confiscation. At that point, Kavanagh made a heartbreaking decision.

"I don't want their bloody hands on my book," he said, and on the morning of the hearing he systematically hacked 117 volumes with a shoemaker's knife, shearing them down the middle. "It's like tearing my heart out," he said...

Kavanagh arrived in court with a briefcase crammed with the literary remains. He approached the bench and addressed the judge as "your lordship." Then he upended his briefcase and scattered his shredded copies as evidence that he had obeyed the injunction. The judge explained that he was not "his lordship" and gave Kavanagh permission to keep two unshredded copies of the book for himself.

For 15 years, 1913 to 1928, Mrs. John Curran of St. Louis, who lacked even a high school education, wrote four full-length novels and almost 2,500 poems that she said had been dictated to her by Patience Worth who was born in 1694 in Dorchestershire, England, migrated to the New World and was killed during an Indian attack during King Philip's War. The novels were well reviewed and five Patience Worth poems were included in Braithwaite's Anthology of Poetry for 1917, more than ones by Vachel Lindsay, Amy Lowell and Edgar Lee Masters. Patience, Mrs. Curran said, first made contact with her through the Ouija board one letter at a time; later she got words and sentences at a time.