. . .is a dangerous thing, then some knowledge may be positively lethal. A quarter way through this self-regarding tome and I was already losing the will to live. Will I survive before terminal boredom sets in? Probably not. There are certain magicians and occultists who resemble computer nerds in their inability to see the wood for the trees. Sadly, Dave Evans appears to be one one of them, obsessed as he is with his own take on magical history, one which elevates a comparatively minor player - Amado Crowley - into a major figure. See, Dave, here's the thing: magic is not confined to your own circle, or those whom you personally know. And by the way: Alex Saunders had the same sort of influence on magical practice and development as Paris Hilton has on haute-couture: more consumer than originator.
It's this accent on Dave's personal experiences that destroy what could and should have been a landmark book. For example, he spends a long time, some would say too long, in describing the cultural and social background in the UK - with the occasional US reference - post Crowley's death. He isolates those influences that, in his opinion, helped develop something of a magical renaissance which gave forth Chaos, or Kaos, Magic. And somehow in this catalogue, he manages to ignore the movie industry. No mention of Rosemary's Baby, The Omen or The Exorcist. No mention of Hammer's Dracula series. . .movies which may be beneath a modern magician's contempt, but which were hugely influential in their day. Dave Evans also manages to ignore the influence quantum mechanics has had on the whole subject of magic, from The Dancing Wu Li Masters - which compared quantum with the Tao - to M John Harrison's superb novel, 'Light'. It's enough to make a good Gnostic despair. Check out Amazon, Dave, and see how many books there are which combine magic and quantum. Justina Robson would be a good start. Which leads to another point: This book does seem to be, well, just a tad sexist. This is not a PC cri de coeur, only a reminder that a great deal of recent magical development has been undertaken by women. Although come to think of it, those pesky Druids always were ever so slightly chauvinistic. Have beard, will cast runes. Computer nerdish, too. This is a book that promises a great deal and delivers little more than one could divine from the Atlantis Bookshop's noticeboard. All too often it sighs with a breathless oh-wow approach better suited to a review of the latest computer game. It began life as a PhD thesis (what could Dave's supervisor have been thinking?) and it shows: too many unecessary footnotes; far too many student-like jokes and asides; pointless non-sequiturs; points unmercifully belaboured; endless pointed comments about the hapless Amado - like we really care? - which would be more at home in a blog. Oh, and Dave: if you're going to mention JK Rowling (and we do all, actually, know how rich she is), then you really should mention Philip Pullman and his Dark Materials. Discworld has a certain relevance, too. Finally, this book acts as an awful warning to never, ever, try and edit your own work. Or ask friends and relations to help. Hire a professional and listen to them. Learn about structure and syntax. And think about your book from the reader's point of view. We're the ones paying for it.
And what still really annoys is the suspicion that Dave Evans could have written a good, very worthwhile - even seminal - book. So maybe we should blame his PhD supervisor. No, blame Dave. It's his name on the cover.