Wednesday, 27 December 2017

Greeting the Unconquered Sun in Grenoside

Yesterday morning's Grenoside Sword Dancers' Boxing Day dance, in the road outside the Old Harrow, Grenoside village, greeting the Unconquered Sun.

This is a very old tradition, not a re-enactment. It has been kept alive continuously, but now they need new members. If you are interested in dancing this two-centuries' old dance and can get to the Sheffield area of an evening, get in touch with them at

Here's a short sequence where they are weaving through the swords.

Monday, 27 November 2017

Review of Psychedelic Press Journal, Issue 22

Available from

The stated theme of issue 22 is the integration phase that happens after a psychedelic experience, the delicate protocols of coming back to the world. The articles 'all play with this theme in various ways'. PPJ in general plays with themes as a way of structuring the vast surge of psychedelic writing that is emerging at the moment, in science, literature and other areas. And it does this very well; I wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone interested in psychedelics and the culture and issues around them. It has an immensely readable mix of academic-type discourse, trip reports, poetry and history.

This issue has two outright trip reports. Julian Vayne writes this issue's My First Trip, in which he tells a hair-raising tale of taking 4 times as much LSD as he intended to, how he dealt with a rather intense metaphor that erupted into the trip, and what he thought about it all afterwards. Sam Ross's 'AnOther Dead Hippy ReBirthday' is a lengthy and thoughtful mushroom trip report, much of it in free-form verse. I know... the times one has gazed with dread upon such writings... but fear not, this is very good. His warped language gives the precise feel of that stage of a trip when your speech centres just feel like molten plastic. Writing of the fabulous lichen he ignored on the actual trip then went back to engage with, he comes up with a beautiful and powerful notion: 'I went back and found, among the many trees in that small wood, the very lichen (I am sure) and I contemplated it and documented it and together we processed each other into art.'

In the arts corner, Aaron Oldenberg in 'Altered State Machines' writes of computer games which attempt to recreate some aspects of a salvia divinorum trip. This idea was a genuine novelty for me - my contact with computer games is pretty much limited to a single, decades-ago experience of playing Sonic the Hedgehog and wondering what all the fuss was about, followed by a suspicion that some games were actually interesting enough to waste too much time on, time I'd rather spend reading. It seems things have progressed a bit since then, and I look forward to trying out something like this.

One area of the politics of the psychedelic scene is covered by The Rev. Danny Nemu, with an engrossing report on the divided worlds of ayahuasca. Danny's writing gives a real sense of knowing what he's talking about because he knows some of these people. Anyone who has wondered about the different 'rules' for the use of cannabis with ayahuasca has something to learn from this article.

In the area of magical technology, Elio Geusa offers 'Master Plant Dieta', which is just the medicine for those of us who have been wondering at the apparent variety of pre-ayahuasca 'diets'. He distinguishes clearly between the health and safety issues that are covered by the avoidance of certain foodstuffs and the spirit-magic practice of relating to the spirits of various cleansing jungle plants.

Rob Dickins reviews 'The Tawny One' by Matthew Clark, a view of the constituents of soma that is much more believable than any I have yet come across.

And finally the history slot: our very own British acid historian Andy Roberts reminds us that, back in the day, flying saucer imagery was widespread among British trippers. In fact, it was so ubiquitous I'd kind of forgotten about it. Which is why we need historians like Andy to draw posterity's attention to these things.

One thing I love about PPJ is that it is not beset by the rigidly dogmatic scientism of some psychedelic discourses, the sort where any mention of inner work, transformation or awakening is sneered at. This is because it is run by interesting people, including freaky people such as magicians, who recognize and do not dismiss the multiple realities opened up by the psychedelic experience. Maybe PPJ will play a part in saving psychedelia from becoming too straight when psychedelic medicine goes mainstream!

Thursday, 7 September 2017


I was going to write a much longer review of this, because there is so much to it if, like me, you are fascinated by smells. However, it closes in a few days, so I wanted to get this out there to encourage other smell fiends to go.

This is an exhibition about modern perfumery using ingredients that imitate a far greater range of smells than the traditional flowers, fruits, woods and musks. These perfumes imitate, amongst many other things, creosote, bodily fluids, hot desert air, chlorine, stagnant water.

Thee are ten perfumes in this exhibition. Each has its own room, themed to the perfume; the blurb mentions the idea of creating 'narratives' with perfume. That may sound pretentious, but bear with it - there is something very interesting going on here. Here's the room for Giacobetti's En Passant, an outdoorsy perfume.
Each perfume is presented without comment other than the silent commentary of the room's design. We are given cards to write down our impressions. At the end, we can go to two rooms where there are descriptions of what each perfume is 'about', with further samples. So the show also has the delights of a mystery tour. Here's a card with a few of my comments on it.

Of the ten, there were three I particularly liked. One was set in a church-like room, hymnals in the back of old wooden seats, a screen which suggested the confessional. Redolent of frankincense, one of my favourite scents, it was to be sniffed from leather bags. This was Avignon, by Comme des Garcons. To me, it suggested sex in a church.

Another was set with a work bench littered with strange things. The perfume had a creosote-like note and was sniffed from tetrahedral structures that suggested a high-tech/magic mix. This was El Cosmico, by Moltz.

The third was Molecule 01, by Geza Schoen. Uniquely, amongst all the perfumes I've ever smelled or studied, this had just one ingredient, Iso E Super, a molecule discovered by the perfumer. This substance is bigger than most smell molecules, a poor fit for many smell receptors, so not everyone can smell it. I could, my companion could not. Delicious, but not much use except as a talking point!

Unsurprisingly, considering how extreme these scents were, there were two I disliked. One a little - Dark Ride, which just stank, really, and the truly offensive Purple Rain, which was the most aggressively cloying scent I've ever smelled.

The exhibition catalogue has essays about each perfume and an introductory essay by notorious amateur perfumer Brian Eno. That's how I found out about this exhibition, being an Eno fan.

If you like weird scent, book a ticket! Now!

Thursday, 31 August 2017

The Spirit Andromalius: Part 2

Part of my deal with Andromalius was that I paint five stones with his Seal and give them to magical folk who would be likely to use them. The first of these stones I gave to a friend who runs a café-bookshop. She accepted it happily and said she didn't really have any problems losing things at home, but that things got lost in the shop. So she put it up on a high shelf in the shop, for the benefit of anyone who wanted to try working with the spirit.

I mentioned that anyone who wanted to do that would have to form their own relationship with the entity - just the obvious basics to start with, like asking nicely, and thanking him if you get a result.

The next day, she texted me to say that her assistant in the shop had found her debit card, which had been missing for some time. Great result!

Then the day after that, she texted again to say that her assistant had forgotten to thank the spirit and had lost the card again. IT seems that the card never turned up again; it would be hard to imagine a more pointed message about how to deal with spirits!

The second painted stone I gave to another friend, who has a little experience of working with spirits. He loves a busy life and had no plans to get close to the spirit in the near future.

However, the next time we spoke, he told me that he found something he didn't even realise was missing: a pair of socks appeared under his bed mattress.

I think we can all agree that that was a low-value find. But one way to look at what happened there is to see this as a low-level demonstration by Andromalius of his powers and his readiness to relate to my friend. This is a friendly spirit, along the lines of, 'Here, I can help with that.' But like any human helper, he expects acknowledgement, he wants to be appreciated.

And he expects a bit more than some publicity on Facebook, and some painted stones. He expects me to change.

To be continued...

Thursday, 24 August 2017

Composting For All; the enigmatic poems of Hubert Tsarko

This is less an objective reviewer's review and more a plug for a friend's book. But my friend John, the man behind Hubert Tsarko, really is a decent poet, and worth a look if you value mysterious wordcraft.

John has been growing as a poet for the thirty-odd years I've known him. This is his first collection, which goes to show what a long time poets take to mature. I travelled with him back in our youth, through the South of France, picking grapes and drinking their pressed fermented product, talking about writing and occasionally doing some.

On our way to castrate maize in Riscle (the title of one of the poems in this collection), in the wake of an ill-advised Mercury invocation intended to speed up the hitch-hiking, we got our lift, with a man who stole our bags and papers. On the table in the café he left us a plastic diary, which I took up and used as my own diary until it was full. I still have it somewhere. That summer and autumn was a richly interesting chain of experiences, but I never took up la vie routiére as a lifestyle the way John did.

This is a collection of the realistic alchemized into the thoroughly dreamlike. Or more accurately: the inner world as it is painted upon towns, lovers, bars, rooms, arguments. Poetry as something embedded in the immediate sensory world and yet existing outside of time, in some more real realm. An incredibly private world made by skill into something enjoyable for certain others.

The titles of these poems give us some idea of what to expect, but not everything: Places from the wanderings of a full time artist, tiny incidents such as 'The Cat Sat On My Glasses' (which in itself contains an unexpected glance into a world that may be either burglary or bondage), ironical or dreamlike detournements of stock phrases and titles, such as 'The Life That Lives on Man' or, invoking loathing, 'Final Solution'.

One of my favourite poems is East. I love the ending, and somehow it fits the tone of the whole collection:

There must be an attic

somewhere he could
fill with paraphernalia
and solitary intentions

Bless your solitary intentions John.

Monday, 31 July 2017

The Spirit Andromalius: Part 1

This post and some that will follow are about my experiences of working with the spirit or demon Andromalius, number 72 in the Goetia. (To cut to the chase, yes, I find Andromalius to be a very useful spirit.) Over a few months I have started to forge a working relationship with him, and it has been a very interesting learning curve as well as useful to me. So here are a few thoughts about spirits in general and Goetia #72 in particular.

So what do we mean when we talking about working with spirits? Some magicians use the idea that there are four (or five) basic ways of apprehending magic - Psychological, Energy-based, Spirit-based or Information-based. (The fifth is the meta-way of slipping between those four at will.) That makes a  fair amount of sense to me; not perfect sense, but a good contribution to ways we can view our magic.

Now look at those four approaches to magical effects: they aren't all of the same level of cultural unfamiliarity, are they? Or to put it another way, they are not equal in their weirdness, not in the host Western culture anyway. The idea of Weirdness as I use it here is a measure of how far outside conventional expectations an event is. I've developed this idea in Bright From the Well and in my Psychedelic Press essay Solve et Coagula.

Basically, not all magic is equally weird. Some magical results we can understand using fairly mainstream ideas. The four 'paradigms' outlined above are not equally weird. By far the most familiar is the Psychological approach. This bias, this way of thinking I would guess is culture-wide amongst 'Western' civilization. In an oft-quoted passage from Magick, Crowley warns us against investing belief in explanations beyond the subjective: 'By doing certain things certain results will follow; students are most earnestly warned against attributing objective reality or philosophic validity to any of them.'

Robert Anton Wilson wrote of 'multi-model agnosticism', which takes the above passage very seriously. Readers of RAW may have noticed how, after illustrating the many ways in which we can frame an event, he tends to  return to models which are basically psychological as a kind of home base.

For me, the next weirdest model was the Energy one. I spent a good deal of my time over the past few decades getting fascinated by and investigating in depth Connected Breathwork and various modes of energy magic. I just wrote a book about it, Life Force.  

The Information model is not, I think well-enough understood. Not by me, anyway; it does seem rather vague compared to the others. The best usage I have come across of this kind of idea is Lionel Snell/Ramsey Dukes's Words Made Flesh, a novel which examines the possibility that we are living in a virtual universe controlled by 'higher' levels of implementation. A bit like the 1999 film The Matrix but not as nasty.

This is a very alien way of looking at things, but it does not basically conflict with either intuition or some scientific ways of looking at the world. I would say that it is not as culturally alien as the Spirit model. At least, not to someone like myself who had a scientific education and grew up in a world of science. To those raised in traditionally-flavoured religions such as Catholic Christianity this may not be the case. However, I have to refer to the words of a man who grew up in the Amazon forest; in the course of interviewing visionary artist and ex-ayahuasquero Pablo Amaringo, Donal Ruane asked him if he believed in the spirits all the time, even when not under the influence of ayahuasca. No, replied Amaringo, even shamans can't believe in the spirits all the time, not in the modern world.

In the Spirit model, everything is sentient. You talk to the spirits and make deals with them. It was the model of magic I approached last. Lionel Snell made  profound sense of the idea of spirits as ways of personifying many of the issues in your life, in his Uncle Ramsey's Little Book of Demons.

This is not however the kind of spirit magic story I am about to relate. Snell's demons are understandable through psychology and culture; we know (or think we know) what Vandalism is, to use one his examples. Goetia is a different matter.

Back in the mid-1990s I worked on a few occasions with a talented group in Birmingham, raising Goetic demons and asking them to do things for us. I had few successes, compared with other techniques, and I was never quite comfortable with the relationship with these beings. It was too authoritarian, too soaked in fear.

In January this year a good magical friend introduced our little group to Andromalius. Here's the Mathers Goetia passage about him:
'The Seventy-second Spirit in Order is named Andromalius. He is an Earl, Great and Mighty, appearing in the Form of a Man holding a Great Serpent in his Hand. His Office is to bring back both a Thief, and the Goods which be stolen; and to discover all Wickedness, and Underhand Dealing; and to punish all Thieves and other Wicked People and also to discover Treasures that be Hid.'

My friend had summoned him to get a valuable item back. She got it back, in another area of town from where it went missing, under the most improbable circumstances. We were duly impressed. She led an evocation and presented each of us with a rock painted with Andromalius's seal - see above.

She introduced us to a very different way of working with the Geotia than my previous experiences. The attitude was one of forming a good working relationship with the spirit, not ordering him about like some neurotic exorcist. I started thinking about how I could form my own link with this powerful entity; after all, a spirit that helps you find missing things is something I need fairly frequently.

So I looked around for enlightened models of working with demons. I read Jake Stratton-Kent's Pandemonium and this helped a lot; JSK has made much sense of the old grimoires than anyone else I have read.

Then in May I lost something. Something which would have cost both time and money to replace.

I read up on the procedures. I worked out a scheme of evocation.
At midnight I started my Andromalius evocation. (Not because that is necessarily the 'hour' of this Spirit but because that was the way it worked out.) I had the Andromalius seal, painted on stone. Since Andromalius is attributed to the Mars decan of Pisces, I made a suitably-attributed incense. My skrying surface was a small black bead in a glass of water.

I performed the Invocation of the Bornless One. I spoke words honouring the Great Lords and Ladies of the Infernal realms. I gazed into the bead, whilst formulating in detail my request to Andromalius. I made him an offer - a mention on my blog, and links to that from FB and Twitter, plus five stones painted by end of July and given to other magicians. The stones are out there now; this is the blog piece.

His responses were very interesting. After an initial bright start, it seemed like a slow conversation, with me making the running. Anyway, I went ahead and completed the working and started work on the stones.

Three weeks later I found the item. It was in a pretty improbable place. And this was just a couple of days before I'd decided to set in motion the process of getting a new one. So he had left to the last moment the finding of the object.

This was where the learning curve really started. I understood what it was that Andromalius required of me: a token of how highly I regard him. The stones were barely enough. The publicity was barely enough. Neither of these things showed enough ... trust and value on my part. This is all, in the end, about what goes on inside my magical world. About showing to myself as well as to him how much I value his cooperation with me.

This is not the end of the story.

Thursday, 6 July 2017

Seven Secular Sermons - a meditation for the Age of Science

Any old Aeon
Any old Aeon
Any any any old Aeon
- From a song by Barry Hairbrush

If you are reading my weird writings you have probably heard of Aeonics, various philosophers' and magicians' ideas of how civilizations undergo great big shifts in their central ideas. You will have come across Crowley's Aeons of Isis the Mother, Osiris the Dying God and Horus the Crowned and Conquering Child. You may have come across Peter Carroll's more pragmatic extension of this into a five-Aeon scheme. We start off in Shamanism, proceed to Pagan Polytheism, to Monotheism and then to Materialist Modernism, before slipping off the edge of the model into the current rather Postmodernist PanDaemonAeon.

Most of those older Aeons produced artworks which promote meditations which explicate the spiritual worldview of that Aeon. Take ancient Egyptian religion and its gorgeous polytheistic splendour. Or the mediaeval cathedrals in their breathtaking devotional majesty.

The Fourth Aeon, the Science-y one, has little like this, few attempts to provide an experience of rapture and awe in the face of a worldview. There are clumsy attempts by the likes of Dawkins to tell us we do not need mystery, only wonder at the revelations of science, but speaking for myself, they are more off-putting than encouraging. Basically, reductionist-eliminationist-materialists are the worse people for the job of enhancing awe in us.

So along comes Daniel Böttger. The subtitle of the piece is 'Towards a more profoundly satisfying appreciation of reality at large.' Daniel will show you how to love the world of scientific revelation. He tells us:

'The Seven Secular Sermons are:
- the only guided meditations in verse and rhyme,
- the only attempt to replace religion as a frame for mystical experience,
- the longest poems, by far, ever written in the classic style of the common metre,
- based on 20 years of meditation experience, 15 years of writing guided meditations and a few years of - academic research into the psychology of religious ritual,
- best enjoyed when listened to rather than read,
- entirely in line with the current state of scientific knowledge and
- so mindblowing they frequently move listeners to tears.'

The whole thing kicks off from the centre of where you are, with a meditation:

'This meditation's rhyming verse
describes a paradigm
of us inside this universe,
adrift in space and time.'

For sure, the verse style will not be to everyone's taste. But don't judge on the basis of reading, but try listening to a bit of the sound recordings on the page linked above, and see how it works together with the material.

The first three are currently available. This is an ongoing project and more sermons will be released.

'Seven Secular Sermons' will introduce you to a different take on the world of the Scientific Aeon and may move you to tears!

Tuesday, 23 May 2017

Getting Higher by Julian Vayne - a review

Getting Higher - The manual of psychedelic ceremony

Julian Vayne,

This is a unique book, which I have been waiting for the likes of for some time.

My first adult-life experiences of events that I framed as magical happened in my late teens, under the influence of acid. It wasn't until my mind-20s that I embarked on daily study and practice. This was in the late 1970s, and the world of magical writing - the serious sort rather than the various New Age dilutions - was dominated by the works of Crowley. I found Crowley's work interesting partly because he saw no basic problem in using psychoactive substances in the course of magical work. Most other magical writers seemed to shrivel up in horror at the mere thought.

However, Crowley was ultimately a disappointment to me in this area, as in a few others. He had used mescaline, one of what I thought of as the most interesting class of drugs, the psychedelics, but had written almost nothing about his experiences of it. Compare this to the essays on cocaine, opiates and even hashish, which he didn't particularly like. Even his attempts to revive the Eleusinian Mysteries using a kykeon that was probably part-mescaline are not really written up. Somehow, mescaline just gets left out. Somehow, Crowley ends up leaving no guidelines or even useful reports for the use of psychedelics in magic and mystical practice.

As magicians, in the end we have to work things out for ourselves. This is indeed what people have been doing, and finally Julian Vayne has come along and collated this useful knowledge of how to get the best out of these precious substances. This book is a report from years of solo and group experimentation.

The topics covered include: an exploration of why we might want to get high, discussions of set, setting and substance, introducing the terminology used by Shulgin and other experienced trippers, and a nicely-nuanced view of synthetic vs natural.

Over the years, one of the questions that got asked again and again was: Do we just appropriate a traditional ritual structure lock, stock and barrel, or do we use it is a template, testing each aspect of it so that we understand why each part is there, and then re-envisioning it according to our own culture? In Vayne's book, magic is introduced for the psychedelic experience by breaking down the usual elements and noting what is useful - so for instance there's a discussion of dress, lighting, the best attitudes for a group working and ceremonial speech. Magical techniques from breathwork to movement and drumming are looked at, as are issues of posture. Pathworkings for internal journeys are suggested, and things to do and make for more outwardly-directed phases of experience. Some of Vayne's own rituals are described, including his version of a Medicine Circle, in which a traditional structure is used as a starting-point.

Vayne's style, as in his previous books, embraces a good deal of anecdote, which is perfect for this kind of book. One keyword that comes to mind is 'inclusive', in the sense that Julian does not sneer at, for instance, rave culture, but instead explicates its structural similarity to other kinds of psychedelic ceremony. This inclusion is extended to the idea that there is nothing wrong with taking these drugs for fun. The word 'recreation' must at one time have meant something along the lines of 'remaking ourselves', and it is only the puritan mindset that is still amazingly prevalent in our culture that conditions us to think that enjoyment alone is not a good reason to engage in something.

Now, this is quite a slender volume, with a lot packed in. At £10.99 for 125 pages, pocket-book format, it would be an expensive book, but for the fact that there are illustrations - by the awesome Pete Loveday. (Check out the 'Russell' comics - highly recommended for countercultural humour and wisdom.). This connection is a nice link to the free festival scene, which all through the 1970s and 80s hosted much collective experimentation in the sacred and profane uses of psychedelics.

So buy this book. It connects things up. It is a new kind of thing, and long-awaited.

Monday, 13 February 2017

My Years of Magical Thinking, by Lionel Snell

Lionel Snell is without doubt one of the great magical thinkers of the last half-century. This book is somewhat different to his other books, because he is offering his arguments to the wider public beyond the magical ghetto. It is a concerted defence of magical thinking - but as one of four basic types of thinking, four basic human ways of apprehending our worlds.

This four-directions model is not new - Snell's first book, SSOTBME, from 1974, laid out this model of human apprehension, but I must confess I never got that it was supposed to be a normal mode of thinking; somehow I assumed he was smuggling it in to complete his picture, and that it was still a fringe thing. Thinking back, I am puzzled at how I misread that idea, but it no doubt has to do with the fact that my own approach to magical thinking has often emphasized the fringe-y, even freakish nature of such thinking - the freakiness of which I am quite comfortable with.

Snell is careful to explain that this is not a map of 4 quadrants, into which all thinking can be neatly stuffed, but a compass of 4 directions, tendencies. These tendencies do have at their core some ideal kind of thinking which is of course always referred to, often emulated but never achieved in a pure form. He points out that this model is in itself an example of magical thinking, and is aware of the price we pay for making systems:
'No theory can claim maturity until it has been accused of being "a gross over-simplification".'

So what are the characteristics of the 4 types of thinking?

Magical thinking is based on a combination of feeling and sensation - we gather evidence directly via sensation and then decide how to act by what 'feels right.'
This is a fast mode of processing, much faster than Scientific thinking's combination of sensation and thinking. So it is much more useful in a pinch. I was reminded of the words of one of my favourite songwriters, Arthur Lee, when he sings: 'I believe in magic / Why? Because it is so quick / I don't need power when I'm hypnotized...'

Here is an elegant indicator of Religious thinking:
'...a notion has no religious meaning unless it is capable of being disbelieved (for otherwise there would be no non-believers from which the believers could differentiate themselves).'

Magical thinking is characterized by an inclusiveness of thought:
'In magical culture, a belief in any one system does not compel disbelief in another system that contradicts it, and this sets magical thinking apart from religious or scientific use of the word "belief`".'

For example:
'...I clearly accept the theory of evolution as a myth. I accept the myth that consciousness is generated within my brain, because that too works well for me - but it does not stop me also accepting the myth that I have an immortal soul that has incarnated in this body because that also works well in other contexts. I can at the same time accept the myth that light is a wave as well as the myth that light is made of particles, as both those myths work for me in their own way.'

Magical thinking also involves a game-like approach to life, not taking belief in what you are doing too seriously. The edges of magic, perhaps on the Science side of the compass, show up where:
'You do find magicians apparently so serious about a particular set of symbols that they appear to have accepted it as "absolutely true". Does that mean they are no longer playing a game?'

In contrast, the attitude of the official game-playing world of sport is much more serious, and Lionel puts it under Religious thinking, in which we have to believe in one thing and exclude all others, belong to one in-group and relegate all other people to the out-group.

The edges of Scientific thinking are interesting. Snell shows how theoretical physics is Platonism, of a peculiar kind:
'For example, any experiment as experienced subjectively by a scientist must be assumed to have a one-to-one relationship with an experiment taking place in the higher Platonic reality of a physical universe that is assumed to "really exist" and whose shadow or image makes up the experimenter's subjective experience.'

Plato, as I read him, is talking about subjectivity, and therefore the ideal states he talks about are subjective ones, and our discrimination around them is what leads us to spiritual awakening. But in our post-Cartesian world, spirit and even consciousness is rejected as being too difficult to understand, so theoreticians like Dennett and Dawkins pretend it doesn't exist (the most ridiculous philosophical position imaginable, since consciousness is the only prime datum we have). So instead physicists have projected an ideal out onto the external world, of an objective existence behind what we experience but which we can never reach.

The final section addresses some issue in the modern world. Snell tells us we are living in a culture where magical thinking is once again rising to prominence. This is of course not all good - it is the sort of era when some pundit in all seriousness can coin the phrase 'post-truth', a world in which prominent figures are not even shamed when their lies are revealed.

I have not, in this brief review, done justice to the layered and thorough arguments in this book, and I know I haven't plumbed its depths either. That will take another reading and then some. I recommend it unreservedly for anyone who wants to go on a journey of thinking about what magic means and what culture does with it.