The Book of Noriah (Noah’s Wife) and Other Pre-Flood Books

Have you ever heard of the Book of Noriah, Noah’s wife? According to Epiphanius, Bishop of Salamis (in Cyprus; ca. 310-403 C.E.), the Book of Noriah contains knowledge that Noriah revealed from Barbelo, a deity also referred to as “the Divine Mother” and “the Mother on high.”^[1]

As Epiphanius notes, the name Noriah means “fire” in Syriac.^[2] This name for Noah’s wife is fitting, given that Noriah repeatedly attempts to sabotage Noah’s construction of the ark by setting it on fire:

But they say that she sat down in the ark and burned it a first and a second time, and a third. And this is why the building of Noah’s own ark took many years — it was burned many times by Noria.^[3]

This tactic was perhaps not surprising, as she was destined to perish in the flood and thus did everything in her power to delay it.

Epiphanius warns that the book ascribed to Noriah is best avoided, as it is a nonsensical work that “interweave[s] falsehood and truth.” He does, however, offer a brief glimpse into its contents: the book allegedly reveals what was stolen from Barbelo by the archon (the divine entity who created the world) and other gods, angels, and demons who were with him, and claims that what was taken from her can be reassembled “from the power in bodies, through the male and female emissions.”^[4] Mind-blowing, right?

So now you have heard of the Book of Noriah, but I am afraid that you will never be able to read it. The book attributed to Noriah is one of many books from antiquity known only by name or mention.^[5] These books are literary objects known only through other writings, “books within books.” They inhabit a literary universe, and that is the only place where you can access them.

Some of these books, like the Book of Noriah, are most likely fictitious books, serving as literary devices in their host texts.^[6] Yet other books, which are known today only by mention, may once have existed as extant texts, which have since been lost. Still others may have been hybrid creatures: deemed fictitious by some, once extant but later missing to others, and of unknown status to the majority.

Before the advent of print and mass distribution, determining a book’s ontological status (what it was and whether it truly existed) was harder than it is today. Physical books were rare, and most people seldom handled them. To our ancestors in the pre-print era, some books would indeed have been available as physical objects and extant texts, but it is likely that the literary imagination^[7] of past generations would also have included books of diverse and ambiguous status—books they had only heard about but never read.

It is in this larger imagined world of literary writings that books known only by name or mention reside. Determining the ontological status of these books may not be the most interesting task. It may be more fruitful to explore the roles they played in the works that mention them and how they contributed to the literary imagination of the past.

Noriah and the “Gnostics”

With this in mind, let’s take another look at the reference to Noriah’s book in Epiphanius’s Panarion, in a section titled “Against Gnostics, or Borborites.”^[8] Epiphanius focuses on identifying and countering heretical ideas and movements. He lists several books allegedly forged by this sect, including the Gospel of Perfection, the Gospel of Eve, the Questions of Mary, and the Birth of Mary.

In this context, the Book of Noriah is one among several books ascribed to the heretical “Other” (the “Gnostics"). In this setting, the mention of Noriah’s book serves as a perfect shaming or ridiculing device. It contains outrageous ideas, is ascribed to a woman,^[9] and it portrays her as dangerous, troublesome, and ridiculous. The claim that Gnostics composed such a book proves their heresy, ignorance, and threat to society—all according to Epiphanius.

The company Epiphanius places the Book of Noriah in also offers modern readers a fascinating glimpse into the literary imagination of a fourth century Christian heresiologist.^[10] Epiphanius and (supposedly) his readers inhabited a literary world teeming with false books threatening to confuse and corrupt unsuspecting Christians. Fictitious or not, these books were not necessarily unreal to them. Rather, it is likely that they were part of a broader literary landscape where imaginary books sat alongside extant, accessible books.

Books Attributed to Adam and Eve and Other Antediluvians

Noriah is far from the only antediluvian figure to whom Jewish and Christian authors ascribed books. In fact, it may seem like antediluvian figures functioned as “book magnets.”  Ancient wisdom was highly valued by Jewish and Christian intellectuals of antiquity, a trait they shared with most other Middle Eastern communities at the time. Attributing books to the antediluvians was a way of claiming that wisdom.^[11]

Many such books are indeed extant today. Books ascribed to Enoch^[12] are among the most famous, but Adam and Eve, Seth, and Shem also have surviving books associated with them.

Alongside these, ancient authors also assigned fictitious books to the antediluvians. For example, we find mentions of books linked to Enosh, Kainan, Jared, Lamech and even the daughters of Adam—alongside additional books attributed to Seth, Shem, and Enoch that also likely belong to the realm of imaginary books.

There are two major tendencies in this material.

Transmission 

A recurring theme in surviving texts from Jewish and Christian antiquity is the transmission of knowledge across generations. Books were to be handed down from fathers to sons, forming a human chain of knowledge.^[13] For example, 1 Enoch, a Jewish apocalyptic collection with parts dating to the 3^rd to 1^st centuries B.C.E.[14]:

^{1 Enoch 82:1} Now, Methuselah, my son, I shall recount all these things to you and write them down for you. I have revealed to you and given you the book concerning all these things. Preserve, my son, the book from your father's hands in order that you may pass it to the generations of the world. ^82:2 I have given wisdom to you, to your children, and to those who shall become your children in order that they may pass it (in turn) to their own children and to the generations that are discerning.^[15]

Now, reliable transmission depends on an unbroken chain. Some accounts reinforce this by attributing books—or copies of books—to figures not previously known to have books associated with them. 2 Enoch, an apocalyptic work describing Enoch’s ascent to heaven, which some scholars date to the 1^st century C.E.,^[16] offers one such account. God instructs Enoch to give the books written down by him and his ancestors, those written down by “Adam and Sith and Enos and Kainan and Maleleil and Ared your father” to his sons, who should then distribute them to their children and relatives.^[17]

While Adam and Seth have known books attributed to them, Enosh, Kenan, Mahalalel, and Jared do not. By attributing books or copies of books to these antediluvian figures, 2 Enoch ensures that the knowledge Enoch preserves stretches back to Adam, the first human, and that this primordial knowledge has been safeguarded through each generation until it reached Enoch the Scribe.^[18] In this account, the books are filling in gaps, mending a potential broken chain.

But would not the flood wash away every book and sever even the strongest human chain? After all, it is the pre-flood generations we are talking about! Ancient authors addressed this concern. 2 Enoch asserts that angels preserved the writings of Enoch from the flood (33:12). The Jewish historian Flavius Josephus (37-100 C.E.) in his work Jewish Antiquities (1.2.3), claims that the sons of Seth had the knowledge written down on brick and on stone to protect it from both fire and water. ^[19]

The Book of Noah

The Aramaic Levi Document (a fragmentary text found at Qumran),^[20] Jubilees (parts of which was also found at Qumran),^[21] the Book of Asaph (a medieval medical text),[22] and a handful of other later accounts refer to a supposed Book of Noah.^[23] It is no surprise that stories about a book of Noah abound: What better medium and agent to ensure the survival of antediluvian wisdom from the flood?

Scholars still debate whether a Book of Noah existed as an extant text in antiquity or whether it was an imaginary book. Perhaps it was both? A subsection titled “Book of the Words of Noah” appears in the Genesis Apocryphon, a fragmentary text found among the Dead Sea Scrolls at Qumran,^[24] but the Book of Noah may be one of the hybrid creatures mentioned above.

Although potentially extant, embedded in the fragmentary remains of the Genesis Apocryphon, it may still have served rhetorical purposes in other accounts, first and foremost ensuring the continued survival of primordial knowledge. For example, 1 Enoch (68:1) claims that Noah preserved the books given to him by his ancestor Enoch. Jubilees (21:1) holds that wisdom was transmitted from Enoch and Noah to Abraham, ensuring continuity beyond the flood.

Danger

The second tendency is danger. Ancient Jewish and Christian authors were acutely aware of the fine line between primordial wisdom worth preserving and illicit, perilous knowledge, both of which feature prominently in narratives about the pre-flood generations.

Primordial knowledge, typically concerning astronomy, herbal wisdom, magic, and cosmogony, was considered exceptionally powerful. Yet its sources were often suspect: The deity Barbelo is a prime example. Indeed, several fictitious books attributed to the antediluvians are associated with the risks of illicit knowledge.

As we have seen, the Book of Noriah allegedly contains cosmogonic knowledge that Epiphanius vehemently condemns. The herbal knowledge in the supposed Book of Noah, described in the medieval Book of Asaph, may also raise suspicion. Jubilees recounts a tale of illicit knowledge inscribed on a rock and copied by Cainan, son of Arpachshad^[25] (not to be confused with Kenan, son of Enosh):

^{Jub 8:3} He found an inscription that the ancients had incised in a rock. He read what was in it, copied it, and sinned on the basis of what was in it, since in it was the Watchers’ teaching by which they used to observe the omens of the sun, moon, and stars and every heavenly sign. ^8:4 He wrote (it) down but told it to no one because he was afraid to tell Noah about it lest he become angry at him for it.^[26]

According to this account, Cainan copied illicit knowledge originating with the Watchers.^[27] Despite his awareness of its perilous contents, it still made him sin.

Books attributed to antediluvians also appear in ancient and medieval Christian book lists. These claimed books tend to be associated with danger, and to be either listed in the apocrypha section, restricted to mature readers, or explicitly labelled as false.

For instance, the fifth century Latin Gelasian Decree^[28] includes the entry “The Book of the Daughters of Adam.” Though otherwise unknown, it is listed among apocryphal books to be avoided. Once again, a book associated with female antediluvian figures evokes unease.^[29] Male figures are not exempt, though: the entry “Lamech” appears in several book lists, relegated to sections labelled “heretical” or “secret books.”^[30]

The Authority of Ancient Wisdom

So, why did ancient authors include fictitious books attributed to antediluvian figures in their accounts? First, these books underscore the value placed on antediluvian knowledge and its transmission. Claiming antediluvian books and asserting their survival was a way to maintain continuing access to primordial wisdom, whether constructive or destructive. Books, fictitious or not, serve to reify knowledge of the past. Though vulnerable, they render knowledge tangible, durable, and transmittable from one generation to the next.

Equally important, fictitious books spark curiosity. When a book’s contents are hidden yet rumored to exist—are you not dying to read it? These books generate excitement and suspense, while also reminding us of the vast literary universe—filled with works that remain just out of reach.