LILITH PUJA

(Recreational Sex Amongst Consenting Adults)

Blessed be Thy clawed feet, bound and fettered
With leaden chains as, dethroned,
Unveiled,stripped bare,
Thy lie in the dirt, oh! Queen of Zemargard!
Thy blind all-seeing eyes shredding bitter tears
Over Thy slain men, Thy defiled lions!
Since we have ceased to burn sweet incense
And pour libation unto your name,
Queen of heaven, by the sword we have been consumed,
By famine and plague oppressed...
May the astrologers, the sorcerers, the stargazers rise up
And save Thee from the power of the flame!

Blessed be Thy barren womb, host of unborn babes.
For he took vengeance, and swore
To withhold Thee congress,
Never again to meet Thee as a man,
To deny Thee his seed,
Never to pay the Whore!
Blessed be Thy Yoni, throbbing pomegranate,
raving, starving, burning ice,
Gapping lips of hell,
Oh! Mistress of wet dreams,
Virgin Harlot of holy defilement!

Blessed be thy breasts, divine yet unworshipped.
Thy sour milk, drip-fed nectar,
Resurrects the Legions of the destitutes.
Wanting, consumed, starved,
like an ox, you bellow, like a bear you growl,
Like a wolf you roam and kill!
Blessed be thy burnt lips,
Which once uttered the Name,
Now gagged with iron clamps!
Thy silent scream reverberates through the Aeons,
Screeching, like Tiamat, for Samael,
Thy passion, Thy Divine Consort,
Castrated, slain into oblivion...
Ah! The Dregs of the Wine!

Blessed be Thy bony bound hands
That command over all boners!
Thy Heart, slain by one hundred and one arrows,
Exhausted inexhaustible all-compassionate Chalice
To all the injustice of this world!
Blessed be Thy thorn-crowned brow,
Thy black blood, Thy smokey owl wings,
Terror of their nights, mantle of infinite love
Secretly enfolding
All outcasts, like a thief
At the heart of the night,
My Lady of Sorrow,
My Mistress of Storms,
Holy Ghost of the holocausts, the dungeons,the dusty famines,
In the castles of oppression, Thy scream echoes the wailing
Of those who have lost it all,
As Gaia quakes and ripples,
Raging at such defilement.

Blessed be Thy Shadow, terror of the false prophets,
Haunting graveyards and the killing fields,
Casting hateful delusions
Unto the children of Isaah
As they oppress, pilfer, torture and gloat!
For Thou art to be found where no heart may venture,
In the greatest horror holding all compassion!

Thou shalt never be defeated!
They may well lay atop of you, the Dust-Devils,
Tie you to some seedy bedhead,
Straddle you, rip you wide open
For a spot of recreational sex...
Laugh! Triumph!
Thy lidless eyes stare right through
The panting shadow of their lust
And beyond, to the Evening Star!
Babalon!

© Brigitte Ariel

October 2005

Treadwells and Secret Chief Talks

Hello from Treadwells, Here's a selection of talks at Treadwells. Full descriptions of all events are to be found now on website, http:www.treadwells-london.com. Treadwells 34 Tavistock Street, Covent Garden, London Places booked on 0207 240 8906 or by email info@...

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Friday, 27th January Victor Neuberg, Crowley, and 'Do Angels Cut Themselves...' 7.15 for 7.30 start. £5.00 Richard McNeff, Author

Seth at Homebase

Kensington in West London is the location of Homebase Home and Garden Centre. The February edition of Ancient Egypt magazine has a feature on its 1988 makeover which includes large scale carvings based on Egyptian mythology. The brightly painted columns are not in quite the correct colours, not sure if Homebase does that one, you have to entrance under a winged sun to find that out. But all the major gods are there, included Seth complete with a power drill - which seems strangely appropriate. Seems like another stopover in the London Seth pilgrimage, of which there are now several important sites throughout the capital.

The current issue has the second part of an article entitled 'Tales from the Crypt' - which is about London's Georgian Valhalla at Kensal Green

The Grammar Of Witchcraft III

David w. Parry M.A.

Copyrights © 09/2005/6

Chapter 2

Caliban felt uncomfortable opening the cheerless Elm doors under the curiously judgemental stare of two elderly clerics. Why were they stood there? Obviously, both clergymen knew he was gay and disliked his confident gait. The dwarf however was unperturbed, since he was in service to the dazzling Orisha Orun and a brother to his sunlight, so theoretically there should be no problem. Christianity was itself a Sun Cult and early Christian missionaries exhibited meticulous courtesy towards Sun Worshippers whenever they met them: irrespective of their sexuality. Nevertheless, he intuitively knew clerical ignorance, amplified over untold centuries of malice towards other spiritual paths, would allow no tolerance of him. Shit! He walked quickly past them, nodding politely. There was also an usher at the entrance who quickly guided him to his seat. "Ah yes sir", she whispered, "you are with the brides party". Caliban wondered how he could be with the "bride's" party? The words "husband" and "wife" have specific historical connotations and he didn't want to be anyone's husband or wife. Surely, gay and lesbian people didn't need to mimic the unsuccessful and largely mechanical customs of unhappy heterosexuals? Anyway, he thanked the burnished Heavens his pew was at the back.

To Caliban's surprise, more balding, fustian clerics stood at the front altar. Then it hit him. Lesbians are fashionable. If there was a better way to drag punters into church, he couldn't think of it. One of them was already intoning in a patronising voice: "As David so loved Jonathan and as Ruth so loved Naomi…" Caliban gasped, "Fuck, these people have no scruples". It seemed to him that one minute, homosexuals are excluded from full participation in the Church, and the next Clerics are citing gay characters in the Bible. He took a prophylactic to lessen the tension. Only his planetary self had to suffer the hypocrisy surrounding him. Caliban relaxed, as the capsule began to loosen the silvery bonds between his various bodies. He had always known Witchcraft went further than the way of the Saints, because it invigorated all three vehicles, not just the fleshly physique. Orun once sang to him that the atom of soul grounded itself in the soil of existence in an archetypal, imaginal and physical form: like a seed becoming a root, leaf and Lily flower- only to become a seed again. Orun enlighteningly chorused that when the cords were relaxed, each body could roam on its own plane, separately experiencing different parts of the one life uniting them. "A petal seeks light, a tendril needs darkness but all is still a single plant," the monad stressed melodiously.

So for decades, Caliban obsessively studied the signs of the physical body, finding himself intrigued by a range of divinatory techniques based on clinical observation concerning the marks and lines of the skin. Interpreting these engravings was traditionally known as Somatology, and methods included: Palmistry, Physiognomy, Neomancy and Phrenology. Until our Post-Modern period, such techniques signified peasant magic, despite the fact they decode the oldest talismans known to humanity. Maybe for this reason Caliban prized these tactile impressions, inscribing as they did, the semiotics of fate and the legacy of race memory.

His personal divinations always commenced with Palmistry (or to be more technical Chiromancy) since it uncovered primary psychological traits and unexpected future probabilities. Other witches followed similar procedures. Yet in his practice, Caliban concentrated on the lines of life, delightfully contouring the thumb, to tell his client the length of time he or she had left to live. Caliban then focussed on the lines of the heart, to delve into the dominant emotions his client had already experienced, while discussing their passionate trajectories. Thirdly, Caliban pondered over the wrinkles on his client to calculate intellectual potential, warning him or her about personal excesses. Explanations followed, concerning issues raised by lines of health, along with ways to prevent any malady from manifesting. Lastly, he searched for lines of Destiny on the wrists of his client, not only to prophesy achievements, but also to see if he was dealing with someone who may one day join the Teachers-of-True-Epistemology.

Unlike inexperienced witches, Caliban knew this merely began a full sensual reading, since each finger has a symbolic attribution. He furthered his personal oracles by deciphering the finger nearest the thumb as the finger of King Jupiter, expressing True-Will. If it is naturally sculpted, this suggests a fondness for carousing, whereas a lengthy finger denotes the need to dominate others, accompanied by a lack of sensitivity towards basic human concerns. Next to this is the finger of Old Father Saturn: a spindly digit implies that the personality is unbalanced, whereas short joints reveal the intuitive psyche of a writer or painter. Afterwards came the finger of Radiant Apollo, or the ring finger. Any well-balanced person has a finely formed ring finger, but a stubby column indicates emotional dysfunction as well as restless introspection. Finally there is the finger of Winged Mercury which if strong, suggests a seeker after sexual secrets, but if weak or twisted, screams of neuro-ethical disorders. Thumbs, like a silent dictionary, guide a witch over the fingers. They personify the libido. In which case, large ones testify to a potent character, while a bent trunk betrays intrinsic melancholia. In situations of distress people often hide their thumbs, symbolising a desire to escape from the world.

The mounds are also extremely instructive. The mount of Sovereign Zeus relates to enthusiasm. If it is rudely coloured there is a tendency towards self-importance, conversely a poorly shaped cushion shows a severe lack of confidence. Secondly, a well developed hill of Grandfather Cronus, whispers of a quiet disposition. Such a person is usually hard working with diligent predispositions towards their private affairs, yet austerity taints their consciousness with a leaning towards world-weariness. As a significant stratagem, a witch will probe for tell-tale marks fencing the ridge of footloose Hermes. This part of the palm shows a love of change and travel as well as rapidity of thought, yet a fullness of the mound warns of evil inclinations. Perhaps this is why most Witches move swiftly to the crescent of Selene. A strongly dappled pad demonstrates an idealistic or romantic personality; cratered carvings show sensitivity, coupled with a love of nocturnal sophistication. The last portion of the palm to be read is the rise of Aphrodite, because it relates to uncontrolled lust, or warmth of temperament. Unique markings are then finally taken into account, such as birthmarks, the texture of the skin and the overall shape of the arm. At this point, Witches remind their clients that the left hand (on a right handed person) is chiselled with previous behaviour patterns; a right hand however, changes with the course of present experience.

Caliban's dam Sycorax taught him physiognomy and phrenology, because a client's facial features and cranial shape may be analogically compared to those of an animal. As occult diagnoses, readings are based on an ageless perception that human beings re-capitulate the entire evolutionary process, although the vast majority of people only progress to rudimentary stages. Demonstrably, everyone reflects the juncture at which an adaptation-chain stopped, and this proves to be the esoteric key unlocking their essential qualities. Hence, a "monkey-headed" man is mischievous and fun-loving but lacks determination and stability. A "lion-headed" adolescent is a person of natural courage, though one who acts in a foolhardy fashion. Her private journal mentioned "ass-headed" women who are stubborn, stupid and loyal," and "pig-headed" babies who are ruled by their base appetites. Unevenness on the right side of a "donkey -shaped" skull, indicated congenital pride, "gifted" by overly assertive ancestors. A Craft remedy for this, she wrote, would be to empathise with other people, thereby stimulating the alternate side of the cranium.

With these skills in mind, Caliban looked closely at the stooping couple in front of him. Increasingly shocked, his earthly eyes awoke to the realisation that Helen (the groom) was a living weapon against the tyranny of reason, quite unlike her step- sister Moscow Chestnova of recent Soviet history. His Helen stood at the candle-lit altar like a legendary Hag: her extended chin, arching forehead and huge crook nose embodying rebellion. For her special day, Helen wore an extremely tight, green, ball gown, exaggerating her hunched back and causing her to mutter in barely suppressed curses. Despite themselves, the congregation watched Helen's androgynous frame tremble, as though she were a suspended marionette with hands quivering upwards in a series of disturbing mudras. Guests seated nearby were further unnerved at Helen's tiny teeth, as wan as parsnips, and on permanent, malicious, display. Like a modern Mother Shipton among the elect, Helen revelled in grotesquery.

Confusingly, her partner Emily, (the bride), was a much more powerful Witch. In appearance she was tall, lean and boyish, partly explaining why her dress sense never stretched beyond tweeds. Yet, Emily's heavily bespectacled face always retained its expression of sapphic superiority. Indeed, to the congregation, her every move appeared strangely slow and precise, like a collection of sepia photographs. Emily's intimates, including Caliban, commented that she had an atmosphere about her, similar to the menace posed by an angry colony of Africanised Bees. The threat she personified seemed inconsequential until it was aroused to devastating effect. Since most people at the Service were Emily's friends or family it came as no surprise that the girls audibly cackled at each other as they exchanged their vows.

Suddenly, the dwarf felt his huge imaginal hands beginning to move of their own accord: they now had strength enough to strike down all his Clerical oppressors. In a moment, Caliban understood the sleepless nights of the Christian ascetics, the physical tortures of Indian Fakirs and the icy baths taken by young Tibetan monks as methods to reinforce this imaginal superstructure. If he wished to use his imaginal fists to punch his opponent's imaginal stomachs, he could knock them across the room with no discernable cause. Likewise, Caliban speculated that if he intended to kill the Clerics, he could fashion a shard of black light into imaginal daggers and ecstatically plunge them into his inquisitor's imaginal backs. No orthodox physician could detect the cause of his enemies' deterioration, still less have the requisite knowledge, or necessary power, to remove these subtle weapons. Only another Witch of equal ability would be able to perform the task without adding more problems to the case. Perhaps the Eranos Institute alone knew how to heal such wounds.

Immediately afterwards, Caliban's imaginal eyes opened wide. He saw the Saint of Saints, Christed Jesu and realised all three of The Healer's bodies were woven together in the archetypal world. Caliban sensed Jesu's movements in the iconography behind the Clerics. He saw a man at Gethsemane whom he will never forget. He observed his unkempt hair, crippled carriage and Semitic nose. Caliban marvelled at the Saints gigantic heart-shaped head, single cyclopean eye, and muscled, luminous torso. He detected the white raiment of a skilled Therapeutae and he thought he heard oral prescriptions. Caliban saw him picking a cluster of nearly unrecognisable weeds, as well as Hemp and black pods. The dwarf felt an intense need to reach out and touch The Healer, but refused to embarrass himself. Caliban could taste in his mouth a supper of Goose and Claret held in Jesu's honour, and became festive at that flavour. He realised this celestial Saint was the Lord of infinite space, who could hide himself in a Cobnut shell. Miraculously, The Healer had transcended material limitation.

Caliban started to understand imaginal space as the source of Witchcraft, because the Gnostic Name of our Goddess echoes everywhere in those dimensions. Her sighs constitute a Symphonic Grimoire, recorded by witches in the organic world as transcripts forming a Book of Reverberations. Frustratingly, witches moan that these sounds are frequently misheard, which is why the study of their notational grammar gave objective knowledge. For Caliban in particular, the error of Classical civilization was to put so-called musical expertise on a pedestal and subsequently protect its fallible pronouncements as if they were descriptions of a fixed reality. Older witches constantly added that everything in the earthy realm was relatively true and that Vibration is actually the agent securing each sigil or trapping human cognition. Grammar and foreground static aren't the same thing.

The effects of his drug were rapidly wearing off and Caliban didn't know whether a hundred seconds or a hundred hours had gone. Noises loudly played their music in his ears. Nonetheless, he recovered himself in order to greet his friend. "Congratulations Emily, how does it feel to be an unlawfully married woman?"

"Absolutely great!"

"Where is your other half?"

"She's trying to avoid the artful bodger".

"Ah", Caliban guessed that was Helen's brother AKA "the loser". He felt he should say something portentous, such as: people don't always recognise when they fall in love and are normally incapable of doing the right thing once they have. But this was a time to celebrate, so he needed to make his way to the garden with the other guests.

(. . . continued next time)

Helrunar III

Helrunar: a manual of rune magick
- 3rd enlarged edition ISBN 1869928903, £19.99 (including postage) 450pp, crown octavo, 200 illustrations

If you have been following the 'debate' rumbling in various publications concerning Jan's theories concerning the reconstruction of the Seething/Seidr technique - then this greatly expanded new edition has a revised chapter on Seidr that addressses some of these issues.

Preface to the new edition
'When I went to school, my history teacher told us about the old Germani. In her opinion, the Taunus mountains were populated by a bunch of brawny brawlers who wore horned helmets and small pieces of pelt. They lived in hilltop settlements which were fortified by ringwalls. Barely able to manage agriculture, they had to rely on hunting to fill their stomachs. They lived in shabby huts with mud-plastered walls and when the Romans came, they fought the invaders with crude swords, pointy sticks and by hurling rocks at them...

Nowadays, the ringwalls of the Taunus are known as the work of La Tène Celts, who lived on the heights in well organised cities. For this new edition much of the text has been rewritten and updated. A large section on the bronze ages, the Celts, Germani and the later Vikings added. The theme of Wodan and Helja has been elaborated with more detail on pagan Scandinavia. The chapter on magical rune inscriptions has been extended, on Seiðr/seething trances rewritten, the bibliography updated and twelve pages of new illustrations added.'

The runes are a pan-European magical language. Its roots lie in the ancient pagan beliefs of our ancestors, who built many thousands of stones circles, long barrows and dolmens throughout ancient Europe. These same symbols and techniques were used by the pagan Celts and Germans. This book is a complete manual of magick based upon arcane symbolism and secret techniques.

Contents:
Meaning /Urda /Origins /Futhorc /Magical inscriptions / Memorial stones /Fascism / Titles / Cosmology / Nature / Qabala / Vision / Werdandi / Rune stance / Breathing/ Vowel song / Problems / Tune in / Health? / Divination / Alignments / Sigil sorcery / Seiðr and Seething / Energy /lda / Rune companion / Sources

Jan Fries lives in Frankfurt near the Taunus Mountains. He is a musician, artist and magician.

‘...eminently practical and certainly breaks new ground.’ - Ronald Hutton (author Pagan Religions of the Ancient British Isles)
Recommended by The Cauldron
’a very meaty read...’ PJ in Gippeswic

Generation Hex (review)

Jason Louv (Editor) £9.99 Disinformation Company 2005

Generation Hex comes on strong. Like the hissing intensity of a DMT hit it reaches out and grabs you. Hang on to your crown chakras kids, it’s going to be one hell of a ride!

Though brash in it’s post post-modern reality hacking style Generation Hex is far from being all façade and no content (although the design quality of the volume, as we have come to expect from the Disinformation crew, is indeed excellent). This is a wonderful selection of essays by young magicians, mostly from the USA that I found a real inspiration to read.

The collection ranges across samples of diary extracts, detailed explorations of how magick might be understood through pure maths and physics, through to work on psychogeographical drifting and esoteric parables. The styles differ as well, from the post-Gibson swaggering psybermagickical, through cut-up discordianism and into more classic modern journalese. But uniting each essay are a number of common features. The first is that without exception each essay is wonderfully written. The second is that each essay gives the sense that it is a window into real experimental magick and that the authors are primarily practitioners first and writers second. The third is that in their different ways each essay is seeking to broaden the perception of what magic is.

I was particularly taken by the honest and direct position that drugs take within the magickal work of many of the essayists. I was inspired that such intelligent, honest and human magick is being produced by younger adepts. Though you’ll find techniques in this volume it’s so much more than a crummy how-to manual. Perhaps for me (aged about 10 years older than most of the guys and gals writing in this collection) one of the great insights was how the availability of esoteric technique and technology (especially via the internet) means that today’s new generation of occultists can spend their time experimenting and doing, and not waste so much energy in trying to obtain paraphernalia, find rare out of print books and hang-around at lame New Age festivals looking for real magicians (like I had to! Honestly these kids don’t know they’re born!).

This is a must read for anyone interested in the sociology of magick let alone those people who are themselves occultists. I have a feeling that the Generation Hexers are really going to be helping to set the new agenda for magick in the 21st century and if this book represents the way we’re headed then we can expect great things indeed.

If you’ve been wondering what was going to come after chaos magick then the approaches explored in this book may well be the answer. Buy it now.

Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits

'Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits: Shamanistic Visionary Traditions in Early Modern British Witchcraft and Magic' by Emma Wilby. Nov 2005, Sussex Academic Press

Many of the confessions recorded in witchcraft and sorcery trials in early modern Britain contain vivid descriptions of intimate working relationships between popular magical practitioners and familiar spirits in human or animal form. Until recently, historians frequently dismissed these descriptions as fictions created by judicial interrogators eager to find evidence of stereotypical pacts with the Devil. Although this paradigm is now routinely questioned, and most historians acknowledge that there was a folkloric component to familiar lore in the period, these beliefs, and the experiences reportedly associated with them, remain substantially unexplored.

This book examines the folkloric roots of familiar lore in early modern Britain from historical, anthropological and comparative religious perspectives. It argues that beliefs about witches’ familiars were rooted in beliefs surrounding the use of fairy familiars by beneficent magical practitioners or ‘cunning folk’, and corroborates this through a comparative analysis of familiar beliefs found in traditional Native American and Siberian shamanism. The author then explores the experiential dimension of familiar lore by drawing parallels between early modern familiar encounters and visionary mysticism as it appears in both tribal shamanism and medieval European contemplative traditions. The conclusions drawn challenge the reductionist view of popular magic in early modern Britain often presented by historians.

"Magic and witchcraft have between them represented one of the most difficult and challenging subjects for modern historians. Emma Wilby's book is a remarkably interesting, timely and novel way of looking at them, and one of the most courageous yet attempted." Professor Ronald Hutton, University of Bristol.

The Real Rocketman - Jack Parson (reviews news)
reviews by Mogg Charlotte

BABALON - A Fable of Rocketry, Sex and High Magick, Mystery Theatre of the Aether and 93 Fm Travesty Theatre

A sellout house of 93 punters settled in for what was, in my opinion, one of the best theatrical explorations of twentieth century magick I've seen in a long time. I would guess that the last time this happened was more than twenty-five years ago with the staging of Snoo Wilson's Number of the Beast. I never saw Snoo's play, but can guess how good it was from the novelisation as I, Crowley, (which once again is the subject of a film rights option - so watch this space).

The play explores the enigmatic life and mysterious death of Jack Parsons (1914-52), pioneering American rocket scientist, disciple of the magus Aleister Crowley, and passionate devotee of Lady Babalon, the Scarlet Woman of the New Aeon.

Paul Green's play, originally written for radio, is still in essence a radio play. The excellent cast of actors, included several Canadians, added that authentic touch to those 1930s Hollywood accents. But we hardly got to see them, as they remained in the shadows as voices off, whilst the main action played out on a giant screen. I can't have been the only one who by the second act was crying out for one of those disembodied voices to get on the boards. The presence of Angela Morrow as Marjorie Cameron did certainly enliven even more that second act.

The running time of two hours was about right for the audience of enthusiasts, but I would guess JoPublic might appreciate a slightly more succinct version. The very long scene of the Parson' invocation of Babalon in the desert was absolutely wonderful - but I would say that wouldn't I! If you are less familiar with the Thelemic mythos and indeed the biography of Parsons, then a small cut here might still retain most of its power. I also think the 'Charles Gray' introits could safely be disposed of after the first go. With a slightly faster, tighter delivery you could bring the whole thing down to an hour and an half. I only saying this as I really, really hope it will be revived soon. One performance just ain't enough - I saw lots of familiar faces but equally lot more who must be spitting (Horus) feather to have missed it.

Well done everyone involved - now I know why London is positively buzzing just now with new magical energy.

Strange Angel: The Otherworldly life of Rocket Scientist John Whiteside Parson by George Pendle, Harcourt 2005, $25

Sex and Rockets. The Occult World of Jack Parsons by John Carter, Introduction by Robert Anton Wilson, Feral House 2005 (reissue).

I read in a recent review of the life of Austin Spare that becoming a cult figure, is, 'a mixed blessing which threatens to overshadow his unique talents.' It is often the case that visionary individuals with unusual biography, are for a long time only remembered by fellow enthusiasts, who with unparalleled grace, are often happy to stand aside when the mainstream media finally get up to speed.

Another example is the life of Jack Parsons, well known to occultists as one time head of a highly productive occult lodge in 1930s Hollywood - amongst whose luminaries were Wilfred Smith, Ron Hubbard, Jane Wolf and Majorie Cameron, to name but a few. The story of how the house was brought tumbling down by the machinations of a geriatric Crowley are told in Martin Starr's Unknown God (2005). George Pendle is of the opinion that for Jack Parsons, magick was only a sideline, his real passion the then infant science of rocketry. Difficult as it is to imagine, rocket science was once the domain of science fiction buffs and amateurs, space flight itself being dismissed as physically impossible by leading academics of the day!

Pendle's biography of JP is therefore also a potted early history of rocketry and the American space programme. Tis also another counter example to those intellectual historians who argue magick and science have not been bedfellows since the age of Isaac Newton. This is a highly entertaining book, that goes into just enough technological and management detail for the non scientist such as myself to make what might seem an unlikely tale of scientific progress really come to life. Parsons emerges as a complex character, whom despite being born with a silver spoon firmly in mouth, managed to avoid formal education and through empirical methods, to become one of the founders of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. Unfortunately he was 'swindled' out of his shares by what would nowadays I'm sure be termed 'insider trading.' On the brink of a lucrative sale to a major industrialist, he was persuaded to sell up, 'as there was no future in this line of research'! The real reason being that the new owners wanted to purge the company of its maverick founders. It was long after Parson's death before his colleague and eminence grise Frank Malina, argued for some acknowledgement of JPs pivotal role in rocket research - hence the minor honour of the eponymous crater on the dark side of the moon.

The author manages to shine some new light on many of the well know incidents in JPs life that have taken on a folkloric gloss. He writes at length about his relationship with founder of Scientology L Ron Hubbard and his entry into the bohemian community of Thelemites in Pasadena. JPs first wife Helen had already transferred her affections to the 'cult's' then head, Wilfred Smith. JP struck up an another 'open relationship with Helen's younger sister Betty, who was then to fell under the charismatic charms of Hubbard. Despite the presence of the 'green eyed monster', JP invested pretty much all his severance pay from JPL in a dodgy business venture with the Hubbards. It all ends in mutual recriminations and litigation.

The author falls into the view that JP's greatest interest in magick 'see-saws' with low points in his scientific career. At the time of his mysterious death he was reconciled with his third wife, the hypnotic Marjorie Cameron (Candy), the result, so he thought, of a magical invocation to gain himself a new 'scarlet woman' ( magical partner to you or I). By then Parsons was engaged in a new commercial enterprise manufacturing explosive special effects for the movie industry. It was whilst completing a rush order before holidaying with 'Candy' that JPs cavalier attitude to explosives finally caught up with him. His body torn apart by the blast, he died a little while later, followed soon after by his mother's suicide.

I found Pendle's science writing more convincing, and indeed entertaining, than the analysis of JPs magical work - which is perhaps not unexpected for a book coming from a mainstream academic press! There is little in here that is not better treated in other books on magical history, such as Martin Starr's masterful Unknown God. I quibble with the book's lack of a decent bibliography, making it quite tricky to really follow his sources or indeed see the influence of earlier books on the same topic. In my opinion it is extremely churlish of mainstream authors to cherry pick a story from the occult world but not even leave the fig leaf of a citation in the bibliography. The book has far fewer illustrations than others I have seen. Furthermore, I thought Pendle completely missed the significance of JPs resignation from the OTO and subsequent writings on witchcraft as the next new thing. Who could know that another fellow initiate of the OTO would meet Parsons and thereafter leave fallow his OTO charter, following the admonitions to start a witchcraft cult in UK That was Gerald Gardner and the rest is history, although not one American writers are fond of acknowledging. But all in all this is a very informative and entertaining read. A good book, highly recommended - Mogg Morgan

I've had this book on my 'to read' list for some years now, so being asked to review Feral House's new edition of Sex and Rockets, The Occult World of Jack Parsons, a book which seemingly contained all the elements that press my buttons, (Sex! Magick! Science Fiction! Occult gossip! AND Socio/Political Commentary of America! ) was like Christmas and birthdays combined.

An initial superficial perusal of the book provided instant gratification.

Sci-fi cheesecake chick posing provocatively in front of a rocket, super-imposed over characters of the Enochian alphabet made for an ultra cool book cover.

The necessary appendices were there also, which in my personal checklist gives a near automatic degree of credibility and there was also a good-sized section of photographs which is always a good thing when one needs a break from reading text in order to ruminate over their contents.

There was, however, no biography given of the author and contact with the publishers revealed that 'John Carter' was a pseudonym of someone whose governmental job doesn't allow for out of office occult interests…thus the need for a degree of confidentiality. I found this an intriguing aside; especially in view of the fact that Carter's writing treads that fine line of intellectual and practical understanding of the Occult world without showing whether it was a spiritual path that was his own or just skilled researching abilities.

That said there was an occasional wry reference to Aleister Crowley, mention of Parsons perhaps using his Thelemic beliefs as a crutch in times of personal stress and perceptions that didn't necessarily agree with mainstream occult orientated thinking that could be seen as giving a subtle indication of Carters personal predilections.

Robert Anton Wilson's introduction is fast, fun and near pop art subversive in style (a direct contrast to John Carter's more formal presentation). His writing moves rapidly from subject to subject covering what he considers relevant to understanding the life and times of Jack /John/ Marvel Parsons and giving a series of viewpoints that complement nicely with those of John Carters in the main body of the book (though not necessarily agreeing on some points admittedly, such as which is the chapter in 'The Book of Lies (Falsely so Called)' where Crowley purportedly revealed the secret of the 9th degree of the OTO seem to provoke some difference of opinion!).

The main body of the book looks at the separate personas of Jack Parsons that Robert Anton Wilson has already introduced to us; the man, the magician and the scientist and the aspects of these that one would expect to be covered in a reasonably comprehensive biography of Jack Parsons.

The scientific innovations, correspondance with Crowley, involvement with L.Ron Hubbard, and leadership of the Agape Lodge of the OTO are all examined as well as details of Parsons Babalon workings. All these components are in many ways information anyone with an interest in this field would have come across prior to reading this book.

However there is more thorough and in depth analysis given and there are some details that I personally had never encountered before.

The chapters which focus on Parsons scientific discoveries with his invention of solid Rocket Fuel and innovations in the field of Jet Propulsion, as well as the section which gives an 'Introduction to Enochian Magic' whilst dealing with hugely different topics could perhaps be seen as being rather technical, however in my opinion this in depth analysis enhances the book and it remains accessible and highly readable; which for someone as generally technically disinterested as myself is quite an impressive achievement.

The use of Parsons autobiographical essay 'Analysis of The Master of The Temple' provided fascinating personal insights that Carter weaves into the book skilfully, and the afterward of this edition gives an interesting take on the origins of the concept of Parson's Black Pilgrimage.

Perhaps the greatest part of my enjoyment and appreciation of this book was derived from its looking closely at Jack Parsons personal interpretation and application of Thelemic Principles and the changes this created within his life.

The mention of a bizarre black box being found after Parsons death, which contained films of Parsons, his mother and the mother's dog having sex, if true, casts an interesting and perhaps tragic light on the above.

On one hand you could applaud Parsons commitment to breaking the conditioning that bind and constrict, on the other (especially bearing in mind that Jack Parsons mother killed herself within hours of her sons death…and the dog was also killed on the same day) one could see his attempts at doing this as being literal to the point of instability and near fundamentalism.

There was no judgement conveyed in this book, and no over emphasis on the nature of Jack Parsons's death or over exploration of conspiracy theories beyond what was necessary in the name of thorough research.

There was however information given beyond the standard available, and a well-researched and unbiased insight into the multi faceted life of Jack/John/Marvel Parsons, which makes this, book a highly readable classic. - Charlotte