Opinions of Saturn

When influential elders of the pagan and witchcraft community start to drift from the orthodoxies they helped establish, their published works tend to go a little squirrely. Neo-pagan writers can’t republish the same information repeatedly, while older witches tend to push overtly dated practices as universal beliefs. It often leads to a distinct disconnect to their writings and modern witchcraft/paganism. The more ambitious the title, the greater possibly of the book turning poorly.

In addition to aiming to be the definitive book on occult trance-prophecy and possession, LIFTING THE VEIL had a lot to live up to with two Wiccan icons at the helm. True to reputation, at first it looked like Janet Farrar and Gavin Bone would be the rare exceptions that grow better with age.

Part I of LIFTING THE VEIL details the history of trance-prophecy/mediumship from ancient times until modern day. Bone and Farrar blend together academic, historical, and spiritual resources to craft a complete image of three distinct types of trance practice: Wiccan/ceremonial Drawing Down the Moon, reconstructive Norse spaework, and Vodoun/Santeria possession. Neither author is compelled to create false equivalencies between the similar practices—a rarity in most mainstream Wiccan-oriented books. The prevalence of fraud is also explored in a serious and thought-provoking manner from a spiritualist perspective, another topic that is often ignored by other published authors. The research isn’t perfect, of course, but that’s only to be expected with non-academic writing. The fact that an effort was made at all is quite admirable. Aside from some questionable tangents regarding pseudoscience and psychology, the first third of the book is a solid read for any occult reader.

Unfortunately, the book unravels in Part II. The second section is dedicated to explaining the “four keys” behind the methodology of trancework. Said methodology evolved out of the authors’ own personal experiences and workshops, and it shows. It’s no surprise that LIFTING THE VEIL has a distinctly Wiccan slant, but beyond that it’s difficult to identify the audience Bone and Farrar were aiming for. Between the rampant UPG and baseline assumptions about both Wiccan and non-Wiccan beliefs, the advice and theology strays too far from the norm for a beginner to follow. Advanced Wiccans or ecstatic shamans interested in trancework might like it, assuming they haven’t found another system that already works well for them. Even then, there’s no proper transition between the heavily researched and the heavily personal, further complicated by the authors’ predisposition to speak of spiritual matters in absolutes.

Part III discusses rituals, exercises, and processions relating to trancework, and it’s a vast improvement to Part II. Rather than give step-by-step guides, the authors opt to analyze the historical backgrounds and psychological effects of the various techniques presented. There are also transcripts of deity possessions of various individuals included at the end. Advanced Wiccans might like the re-evaluation of some of their oldest traditions and the subsequent advice about injecting trancework into them. Everything is well organized and easy to reference in comparison to the previous two sections. Unfortunately, the subjects covered outside of structured rituals are lackluster, especially since the authors tend to repeat themselves throughout the entire book. Right when the book started to become interesting again, it ended.

While LIFTING THE VEIL is one of the better works on trancework currently available, it also leaves much to be desired. If the topic interests you, the book’s worth a read, but it’s hardly a must-buy for an aspiring occultist either.

Are you frightened, Jenny?

I don’t know. Should I be?

As one of the dozens of vampire manga that flourished during the post-Twilight boom, THE REFORMED does little to stand out amongst its peers. But when said peers lower the bar of expectations so badly to begin with, it’s hard not to look fondly at a title that actually manages to be a competent, if predictable, story.

The book is a standalone that owes its roots to stories like INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE, and most of the focus is on the horror of being a blood-thirsty, if unwilling, murderer. The story follows Giancarlo, an aristocratic vampire who ends up following in love with one of his intended victims. While Giancarlo struggles with his bloodthirsty nature and desire to be with a mortal, a series of vampiric murders of local prostitutes has set the local police’s best detective on Giancarlo’s trail. In other words, it’s literally any vampire romance published in the last decade. Minus the sparkles.

Unlike many other vampire manga, the world of THE REFORMED is very adult, and doesn’t shy away from depicting death and blood. Its world, meanwhile, blends the Victorian gothic and hard punk aesthetic. Anzu is a fantastic artist, sadly one who’s only known in the mainstream for being the artist behind the “X-Men: Misfits” manga, which suffered from such rampant piracy that it was cancelled after one volume and basically killed her career as an artist. Either way, here she balances the dark grittiness of the crime drama with the shojo aspects of Giancarlo’s romance, all while giving the world a unique touch to behold. The result is dark and gorgeous, certainly worth buying for the art alone.

It’s a touch ironic given that the story is written by Christoper Hart, infamous for his many, many terribad “How to Draw Manga” books.

THE REFORMED is a serviceable vampire story, and certainly worth a look if you need something to scratch your inner vampire itch. There’s something in it for everyone, be it the art, dark romance, or crime drama at its core.

While the first series focused on stand alone short stories about taboo topics, Reiko Monoshi's CONFIDENTIAL CONFESSIONS: DEAI is a proper series filled to the gills with teenage drama and crises.

The story follows young Rika, a Japanese school girl who has been having communication problems with her boyfriend--literally! After resolving to earn enough money to buy him a cellphone, Rika decides to venture into the seedy Japanese paid dating scene along with some friends. Things start to go from bad to worse as they begin undertaking increasingly more and more criminal activities to satisfy their greed.

DEAI is distinctly Japanese. The book primarily deals with deaikei and enjo kōsai, the practice older men paying much younger female companions for dates and sexual favors. It's distinct from similar Western escort services mainly because it's not uncommon for young schoolgirls to involve themselves in the hook-up scene, especially when their parents aren't monitoring their phone and computer usage. Japan fell in love with cellphones long before the West followed suit, and predatory dating Japanese websites designed specifically for cellphones flourished in the early 2000s. While it's not necessary to understand all the particulars to read the book, it greatly impacts its relatability due to how technology has changed in the past decade on both sides of the globe-- it's both dated and irrelevant to its target audience.

Even so, the story flows well and shows that Reiko Momochi can tie together the many dark and serious issues that define both of the CONFIDENTIAL CONFESSIONS series-- sexual assault, gang violence, peer pressure, etc.-- without making it feel too melodramatic or unbelievable. The art, as usual, perfectly captures the dark tone without being exploitative or perverted.

The strongest aspect of volume one, however, is how it humanizes Rika's clientele. While there are some stereotypical one-note perverts and would-be rapists, most of the men who partake in her services are just plain lonely. The story touches on how Japanese society almost automatically assumes middle aged/unattractive men are sexually repressed perverts, and the country's customs and conformity to gender roles can wear people down to the point where paying a child to go on a date with them is the only way to find emotional comfort and support. When the tables are turned and Rika's friends start preying on the predators, it's shown to be just as bad as originally dating scheme. The book doesn't defend enjo kōsai (or outright prostitution, for that matter) as "victimless," but it does show how both sides are filled with very, very vulnerable participants.

It's a pity that both series have gone out of print with the collapse of TOKYOPOP, as they are powerful works proving that manga can tackle serious topics in a mature fashion. It must be noted, of course, that the depictions of assault and the predation of minors are explicit and may be triggering to some readers. DEAI is a solid read for fans of the original series, although newcomers may want to start off with the short stories first.

For the past several years, there has been a growing trend of republished old pulps in new monthly or quarterly series with flashy pulpy or pulp-inspired covers, and Hubbard’s classics have been no exception. Amongst its peers, Stories from the Golden Age has the distinction of actually being sold on magazine stands. There’s no attempt to mitigate or obscure the sometimes trashy origins of the stories therein—the publisher has fully embraced the genre to its core, and it is glorious to behold.

Despite the back cover only advertising the title story, THE GREAT SECRET contains four short works: “The Great Secret,” “Space Can,” “The Beast,” and “The Slaver.” The book also includes a brief overview of pulp fiction and Hubbard’s contributions to the genre, a glossary to 1940s’ slang and terminology, and a short preview for the following issue. The introduction isn’t very useful, as it focuses on a self-congratulatory and almost snobby bias toward pulp fandom, while providing only the most basic facts about Hubbard and the pulps to the reader. Hubbard’s founding of Scientology is left completely uncommented upon.

The titular story, “The Great Secret,” is essentially El Dorado in space. It follows a mad man, Fanner Marston, who undertakes a harrowing journey to the lost city of Parva, which he believes will grant him the power to warp the astrophysics of the Universe. The story covers the tale-end of his journey, where he is dying of thirst, hunger, and exposure, while the dead city taunts him in the distance. It’s a decent short story, even if the ending twist is a touch predictable. The only real problem is that little is established outside of Marston’s rambling thoughts, so the setting and context is ill-defined at best.

“Space Can,” meanwhile, is about a tiny spaceship alone in the middle of a space war with Saturn. It’s sent to the remains of a deadly battle, only to discover that the enemy ships are still in the area. The captain realizes that fleeing is not an option despite being outmatched and outgunned—if they fail here, the war in its entirety will be lost. The ensuing battle is an enjoyable read, if a little over reliant on Navy terminology and maneuvering. Definitely the best story in the entire book.

The worst story in the book is “The Beast.” It follows a Venusian game hunter tracking a vaguely described dangerous creature. It’s also racist and boring.

The final story, “The Slaver,” regards a nobleman who winds up on a slaver spaceship by pure ill-chance. In truth, it’s not much different from “The Beast,” if slavers replace the alien monster and captured slaves replace the racist villagers. Both stories are more about the emotional journey of their leads, particularly in how they fall to their lowest points before overcoming the odds. “The Slaver” is the only story to have a female main character, but she’s a generic angry damsel in distress. At the end of the day, the story isn’t terrible, but it’s not particularly noteworthy either.

THE GREAT SECRET isn’t as great as the title suggests, but it’s not a terrible read either. Hubbard was a very talented author in his day, and even his bad stories have charm to them. His works are far more character driven than typical Golden Age of Scifi fluff, which modern readers might appreciate. There are worse ways to waste an evening reading, if nothing else.