Our most revered creative acts: The Moon and Serpent Bumper Book of Magic (a review)

The Moon and Serpent Bumper Book of Magic by Alan and Steve Moore (illustrated by John Coulthart, Kevin O'Neill, Ben Wickey, Steve Parkhouse, Rick Veitch)

I’ve been dithering and dawdling over writing this review partially because I know that it isn’t going to be as “good” or comprehensive as I wish for it to be. It won’t sum up even a fraction of what is in The Moon and Serpent Bumper Book of Magic, nor will I communicate everything I want to say. For this to be even semi-adequate, it would take the months-long process of writing, discarding, writing and rewriting, discarding, staring at a wall, beginning again and finally coming up with something I’m okay with that I have gone through for my Hilaritas-Wilson essays. I’ve already lingered long enough that this review isn’t as relevant as it could have been. The other self-limiting factor is that I know that this essay will be, like some of the drafts of my Hilaritas-Wilson essays, overly-personal and self-referential. To that point, my apologia: the only perspective of any unique value I can add to this is my own as an aspirant to/adherent of The Moon and Serpent Grand Egyptian Theatre of Marvels since this book was announced. I have lived half my life waiting for the release of this book: I now feel that I have also been trying to read the book since it was announced in Spring 2008- in a manner, I was successful. 

That isn’t to say that I’m not going to try to restrain my autobiographically digressive tendencies, but I am going to give some personal context as to the “why” of “why I’m someone whose opinion of The Bumper Book of Magic you might want to consider.” Before I self-indulge and navel-gaze, I can confidently say this about the Moores’ masterwork; it is exactly what was advertised over the past seventeen years. The book is a summation of their exquisitely tempered magical philosophy presented in the exact type of book that, despite the warning FOR ADULTS ONLY, any child would imagine a book that holds the secrets of magic. It is a true grimoire, full of fascination and mysteries, yet one written without blinds. It may be the best single expression of magic in theory and practice extant.

In the beginning, I was fifteen when I read the already aged announcement of the forthcoming release of The Black Dossier, the continuation of the intoxicating League of Extraordinary Gentlemen series by Alan Moore and Kevin O’Neill. Everything about the book sounded like a dream in that it would be a daring mixture of media and an unheard-of progression of artistic and storytelling thrills. It was pushed back multiple times over the next two years and finally was released on a rainy November day, the 14th I believe, and shocked me to my core. I had been exploring magic, tentatively trying to figure out if it was actually what I wanted or needed in my life, for a couple of years by the time the book came out. When I saw the 3D glasses with their eye-in-the-triangle design and read Oliver Haddo’s essay “On the Descent of Gods,” I was convinced that there might be, must be, something to magic if this crescendo of parellelistic fiction could summon such spirits in me. There would be many other waits; one has to remember that at the same time The Bumper Book was announced, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: Century and Jerusalem were also proclaimed. Everything was worth it. 

After vowing to become a magician, whatever that may mean, I dove into everything I could find- I assiduously collected the secondhand-copies of The Moon and Serpent happenings, often listened to during my first forays into psychedelic territory, and obsessively tracked down interviews. But perhaps the most valuable “find” was the essay “Unearthing” in Iain Sinclair’s London: City of Disappearances. It was/is a moving excavation of the life, times and territory of Alan’s mentor and best friend, Steve Moore (no relation). Written in the evocative style of The Moon and Serpent recordings, it not only thoroughly introduced me to a man to whom I owed so much, but dazzled with information. I learned of magical-fictional projects such as Somnium and Tales of Telguuth, which remain favorite holy texts of mine to this day, and also the most visceral depiction of magic being worked by the magicians I held in the highest esteem. Forget Pascal’s night of fire, whatever happened in Moore the Elder’s house in 1994 and Moore the Younger’s in the early years of our century had enough potency to pour fuel onto my own dim blaze. 

I have always considered myself, arrogantly, the “child” of Blake, Crowley and Wilson- but my closest “fathers” would have to have been the Moores. So I primarily blame them for everything that has happened. Magic for me often means frustration, as I have too often lusted for results, and magic has accompanied me through the tumultuous years of adolescence and early adulthood. I have taken it far too seriously for my own good and have probably derailed my life from more profitable or stable avenues for the sake of this tantalizing figment. When I opened The Bumper Book and read the lines at the end of “Adventures In Thinking:” “Welcome, readers. Welcome, boys and girls, to the most wonderful place in the entire of humanity’s experience. Welcome to magic,” I knew I had made the right choice. The rest of the book was a recursive excursion through my past and the deeper, much more accomplished work of my inspirations. 

Q: What is in The Moon and Serpent Bumper Book of Magic? 

A: Everything. 

Much and more might be a more accurate answer, but really- the scope of this magnificently designed book (John Coulthart is a God) goes from the literal dawn of consciousness up until our own ever-uncertain, arguably culturally-corrupt, times. The authors depict pre-history with a confidence born of brilliant interpretation and extrapolation and guide the reader through centuries of technique and thought with a mixture of brevity and playfulness (“Old Moore’s Lives of the Great Enchanters”) and succinct-yet-thorough explications of magical theory (the “Beginners” essays on Kabbalah and Tarot, along with the atlas and bestiary of magical locations and denizens, respectively). Much of this will be known to experienced magicians, but having it collated and expressed by the Moon and Serpent is an experience all of its own. I personally used these sections almost as a checklist; did I learn properly? I was pleased with my self-assessment, although I was surprised by Alan’s strictures and procedures as far as Tarot is concerned. I had never heard of his insistence on reorganizing the deck after each reading, nor did I expect that he would be partial to the Celtic Cross spread- but I am grateful he doesn’t believe in “inverse” cards either. (Someday, I really must share my experiments using the Tarot to “spy on” or scry close acquaintances/friends/family that was inspired by Zelazny’s Chronicles of Amber.) 

“Old Moore’s Lives of the Great Enchanters” is interesting and brilliantly, often hilariously, illustrated by Ben Wickey. None of the entries, being one page comic comics, are going to tell you enough about any of their subjects- but they are presentations of the most interesting facts about their life and invite the curious would-be magus to do their own research into the remarkable history of our predecessors. Reminiscent of the Fortean Times’ “Lives of the Great Occultists” comic strips, if more expansive time-wise, this section is overwhelmingly fun and fascinating. These sections also serve as geniusly-situated palette cleansers between expansive essays and soul-rending fiction. There were some inclusions and exclusions that took me by surprise. Considering the general scope of this blog, I don’t think it out of place to mention my disappointment that Wilson was not included. Although given multiple mentions in the last, and in my opinion the most exciting, part of the tome, Wilson is not identified as one of the Great Enchanters. While I know Wilson himself was uncomfortable being identified as an occultist or magician after his Seventies plumb, I don’t think he can escape it. And according to Alan’s elegy for Wilson, recently published in Hilaritas Press’ The Walls Came Tumbling Down, Wilson was in the room of dead magi alluded to in The Bumper Book and more explicitly, if briefly, described in “Unearthing.” (One other small note: Old Moore does have some esteem for a few modern magician-authors, but I also felt that there should have been some mention of Will Parfitt. Parfitt is the author of many texts about psychosynthesis and Kabbalah, and his The Living Qabalah was mentioned by Alan in a decade-old interview as a good introduction to the subject. I feel that a lot of the Kabbalistic description in “Tree Climbing for Beginners,” “Magical Landscapes,” and “The Soul” can be directly connected to Parfitt’s astounding, if seemingly unassuming, guide.) 

The core of the book is obviously the decadent narrative of “The Soul” and the “Things to Do on a Rainy Day” how-tos. The former will be imminently familiar in its DNA to those who have savored Alan and Steve’s decadent poetry and/or (full blown nerd) scholarship, Gebbie and Moore’s Lost Girls, or Moore’s Promethea. Alan, who I believe is the sole- or main- author of this section, follows a Kabbalistic plotline that he adorns with a moving portrait of an unhappy soul. Our protagonist is a grand leftover from the Yellow Nineties-cum-Eleanor Rigby in a frail silver tiara who overcomes her own ennui to become something grand. Ultimately, the story turns out to be a reflection of the reader themselves and a telling guide to the climbs that we will all find ourselves in, if we choose this past to “Know Thyself.” It’s also beautiful as fuck. “Things to do on a Rainy Day” is a Promethean gift to all of us from two emissaries from a better world. Many authors have written step-by-step guides to magic and some have worked better than others, in different arrangements, for all of us. While I have greatly benefited from the explanations and explorations of writes such as Lionel Snell, Lon Milo Duquette, the aforementioned Parfitt, Phil Farber, White and Alvarado, and know of others who have followed Hyatt, Hine and Sherwin: this is what I always wanted, comprehensively. These essays are a true bottom-to-top, Kingdom-to-Crown scaffolding and clouds for the Bronze Serpent. I need to reread and consult The Bumper Book many times before I can be certain, but I’m pretty sure we’ve all been given the reason there’s no more excuses to escape from this dull trolley problem of a timeline we’re on. Rick Veitch seems to be in tune with this better world where children are taught maithuna, the yoga of love, as they are on Pala.

The creme of the book is obviously the maniacal narrative of “The Adventures of Alexander” and the recursive excursion of the “Conclusion: The Moon and Serpent.” When Steve and Alan write together, they are fucking riotous- like listening to Peter Cook and the other Moore when the taduki hits just right. We reach a Trinitarian perfection when the (crude) sensibilities of Kevin O’Neill are mixed into the product and we are given a true Philosopher’s Stone- the profane and the profound mixed into something that seems like some pre-adolescent nightmare. (If you found yourself laughing at this part of the grimoire, please read Alan and Steve’s original “The Moon and Serpent Grand Egyptian Theatre of Marvels” in Joel Biroco’s Kaos #14, if you haven’t already.) More than anything, this section convinced me that The League was always a magical project and O’Neill and Moore’s Tempest was some sort of magical livewire and that I will miss O’Neill terribly. It is a fitting goodbye to such a man, but I hate saying goodbye to such a luminary. 

What can I say about “An Evening in the Grand Egyptian Theatre of Marvels?” Talk about recursive, am I right? I can be as flippant as I want, but the beauty, earnestness and pure expression of the section is undeniable. I don’t know how much of it was written down before Steve shuffled at least 384, 400 kilometers away from Alan, but if one takes the labour, the passion and the pure will poured into this volume- one can understand that their conception of such a partnership would never be adequate. Magic requires Will and Love and the love that existed between Steve and Alan is ineluctable. The authors do strive to remind us that magic, as stated by Crowley, is perhaps predicated entirely upon love. The love that I’ve borne for magic and the magical people I’ve met in every sense has enriched my life to an extent I cannot express here. So to the readers, I say savor this section and love one another. It is in our personal narratives, and the result thereof, that magic is alive and god(/s) is(/are) afoot. 

Oh yeah, don’t cut up the temple in the back. It doesn’t work like that. 

Love is the law, love under will. 

Witness my hand:

Note: If you're interested in further exploring the ideas that went into The Bumper Book of Magic, I suggest looking over the suggested reading from this post.