The Inglenook FAQ

Inglen­ook. What does this odd-sound­ing word mean?

Inglen­ook is a nook, the isol­ated re­cess, like in the phrase ”to search every nook and cranny.” But it’s not any sort of nook, but one that is loc­ated near a fire­place, or can even be seen as part of the older fireplaces.

The Cam­bridge Dic­tion­ary defines it as ”a partly closed space by a large open fire­place built so that you can sit close to the fire” and the Ox­ford Dic­tion­ary matches this defin­i­tion with its own ” a space at either side of a large fire­place where you can sit ”. Across the pond, The Mer­riam-Web­sters adds the de­tail that inglen­ook could refer also to ”a bench or settle oc­cupy­ing this nook.”

The first use of the word oc­curred in 1772

And why have I never heard it?

Well, the noun might be old and closely re­lated to tra­di­tional-style fire­places. So, un­less you have ”her­it­age build­ing with ex­posed beams, inglen­ook fire­places in sev­eral rooms, flag­stone floors on the ground floor and wide an­cient floor­boards above,” you may have never seen one.

How­ever, the word, while ar­chaic, is far from be­ing ex­tinct, as proven by the COCA (the Amer­ican lin­guistic cor­pus), that iden­ti­fies thou­sands of con­tem­por­ary uses of the word. Just type inglen­ook HERE and see for your­self. Most uses come from realtor’s pages, or texts about good ole Eng­land cottages.

OK, I got the -nook part, but what about the ingle- part?

Alex Pol­sti­gers on Glos­so­lo­gics thinks that ingle comes from the Gaelic ain­geal, where it meant just light, and by ex­ten­sion, also fire (in Scot­land) or glow­ing coal (in Ir­leand). But oth­ers trace back the Gaelic ety­mon ain­geal to a Latin word, an­gelus, that gave an­gel in Eng­lish.. Some dis­pute this, like J. Wall­field, who points to a pos­sible con­nec­tion with a Slov­ene word qglje mean­ing coal or glow­ing coal (PDF art­icle down­load­able from here).

The inglenook/chimney corner at Shakespeare’s home in Strat­ford-upon-Avon, War­wick­shire, Eng­land. Vin­tage etch­ing circa mid 19th century.

Why would fire­places need an inglenook?

An on­line His­tory of Hearth and Home, de­scribes the inglen­ook as hav­ing been an evol­u­tion of the me­di­eval open fire­place (yes, one that had no walls and no chim­ney flue) into a genu­ine ”little room in­side a big room” whose ample hood was meant ini­tially to al­low logs to dry. 

Castle Inglen­ook. The Baron’s Hall at Christ­mas. © Brit­ish Museum.

Then, as people be­came more af­flu­ent, the inglen­ook turned into a dec­or­at­ive piece, com­plete with pil­lars and pan­elled cab­in­etry, meant to sym­bol­ize warmth, se­cur­ity and intimacy

Inglen­ook at Calder Ab­bey. Source © Alan Cleaver. flickr​.com

And how did you come across this bizarre word?

In a J.M. Bar­rie bio­graphy, we came across this photograph:

J.M. Barrie in inglenook

As a side note, Barrie’s be­ing short (some even speak of nan­ism, pos­sibly psycho­so­matic) was well known fact, and while a rep­res­ent­a­tion like this …

Re­pro­duced from Bruce K. Han­son, Peter Pan on Stage and Screen, Mc­Far­land, 2011, p. 14. Copy­right stays with the ori­ginal publisher.

… is an ob­vi­ous ex­ag­ger­a­tion by a ca­ri­ca­ture artist… 

…then pho­to­graphs tell a sim­ilar story, like this one where the pres­ence of that large dog fur­ther dwarfs Barrie.

Bar­rie and Luath. Photo © Wil­liam Nich­olson, in Maria Tatar (ed.), The An­not­ated ”Peter Pan”: The Centen­nial Edi­tion”. Norton 2004.

So what would an inglen­ook have to do with chil­dren then?

In lar­ger houses, like man­nors or castles, inglen­ooks could be con­sid­er­ably lar­ger, and adults could fit in eas­ily, and find a good place to do some work, like in this engraving:

Re­pro­duced from Vic­tori­an­Pic­ture Library.

But in most Vic­torian- and Ed­war­d­ian-era houses, inglen­ooks re­mained the ex­clus­ive province of children.

So, while it was only due to his di­min­ut­ive size that Jamie Bar­rie could fit in an inglen­ook, chil­dren could hide in such a cozy place quite snugly. And this is doc­u­mented by dozens of Vic­torian era pic­tures and photographs.

And what do inglen­ooks and story­books have in common?

Si­mon Brett, il­lus­tra­tion for Jane Eyre.

You re­mem­ber the place where young Jane Eyre would hide when she wanted to have some time to her­self and read a book?

It was the case­ment, the in­ner space on a win­dow sill, hid­den be­hind the cur­tain. Those thick Vic­torian walls, some more than 1 m across, could provide win­dow-frames a large in­ner ledge that was of­ten used as a bench. A per­fectly snug place to read a book.

Inglen­ooks offered just that, plus the warmth of the fireplace.

So, in other words, any­one turn­ing to a book would need a nook or an inglenook?

Right. So many people com­plain: ”I would read a book, if only I had more time!”

But what people need is more time to them­selves. More time off the grid, off-line.

How to get that kind of time?

Well, log off and get your­self a nook, away from the elec­tronic noise.

An inglen­ook?

Yes, that’s what our magazine will try to be: a cozy inglen­ook, warm in winter, cool in the summer. 

A place to read about books — not just children’s books, but also the kind of young adult books that every­body seems to be read­ing these days — but also about book-in­spired books. And, since many of the Inglen­ook Story­book people have dis­covered they have a gift for cre­at­ive writ­ing, this will also be a place to sample some ori­ginal fic­tion. Enjoy!

”Mole and Ratty light a fire” in K. Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows. 

The Inglen­ook Pooka in­ter­viewed by the Notso Good Fairy.

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