THE PREMONITIONS BUREAU

Fascinating exploration of the eldritch matter of foreknowledge.

In 1902, a British soldier in the Boer War dreamed of a volcano exploding on an unnamed island, recognizably a French colony, and killing 4,000 people. A few weeks later, he read a newspaper account of the explosion of Mont Pelée on Martinique, which killed 40,000. “I was out by a nought,” he remarked of the discrepancy in the death count. More precise, writes London-based New Yorker staff writer Knight, was the foretelling on the part of a middle-aged Briton who warned of an impending air crash that would kill 124 people—the exact casualty count when a French passenger jet crashed a few days later. (The toll would rise when two wounded survivors succumbed later.) “Premonitions are impossible,” writes the author, “and they come true all the time.” Though Arthur Koestler attempted to wrestle the matter to the ground in his 1972 book The Roots of Coincidence, there wasn’t much effort to quantify it until a British science editor named Peter Fairley established a “premonitions bureau” at the London Evening Standard in the mid-1960s, inviting readers to submit predictions that the paper would then track. The correlations weren’t definitive, most “impossible to verify,” but there were enough to lend credence to the idea that there are people who seem to have special connections to future events. Though, as Knight observes, the laws of thermodynamics don’t support it, things can “prefigure in our minds.” Few of those things are happy. For instance, the author profiles an eccentric British psychiatrist who came into contact with Fairley after investigating a terrible Welsh disaster in which 116 children died, one of them a little girl who had told her mother of a dream in which her school was covered with “something black”—the flood of coal slurry that overcame the victims.

A reasonable, readable excursion into realms of unreason—and good evidence to pay attention to dreams and hunches.