The Drug and Other Stories by Aleister Crowley, Wordsworth Editions

The ‘Mystery and Supernatural’ series of Wordsworth Editions could (were I at all religious) be considered a Godsend.  Over the past five years’ a skeleton staff (naturally) have, admirably, been scouring those lists of 18^th, 19^th and early 20^th Century authors many of us are only familiar with as names from our own scouring of charity bookshops.

  Haven’t we often wondered, half-curious eyes glancing across the shelves over the stained, dusty spines of red, green and blue, what lies behind such ambiguous names as F. Marion Crawford, J. H. Riddell, or the unintentionally humorous Oliver Onions?  All are now available as collected ‘Wordsworths’ to easily discover for ourselves. 

  The argument in favour of releasing such versions is clear.  Bringing to the fore cheap, collected editions of unfairly neglected authors, circumventing high expenditure on POD mock-up, first edition facsimiles for the buyer, can only be applauded.  Yet, occasionally, too much of a good thing can apply.  Such is the case with this new collection of very rare Aleister Crowley.

  Being no authority on The Beast – long ago submerged under mystical bullshit from supporters and detractors alike - I approached with some caution.  Yet, what we find is revelatory.  The best of these tales are short, tightly plotted, character studies where the Baudelaire-tinged, deprecating wit is controlled and not undermining of the stories focus.  Here, Crowley has nothing to declare but the story itself.  These include the title tale, one of the earliest accounts of a hallucinatory trauma; ‘The Testament of Magdalen Blair’; a tale of personality transference akin to ‘The Exorcist’ but grounded more in early psycho-science than Catholicism.  ‘The Bald Man’ is a quite superb, and, for Crowley, surprisingly emotional, World War One horror story; and ‘Black and Silver’; a positive depiction of a woman with strong sexual control over men, sears into the brain its highlighted, contrasting shades.  

  This last is worth noting since Crowley’s depiction of women elsewhere is otherwise shamefully misogynistic.  Usually, one is introduced only to be just as swiftly despatched to bolster the uneventful plots of the other, more inferior tales; too often the staple of much pre-1940s’ supernatural fiction.  We might expect this from Western short stories of the time, where the ‘Indians’ only appeared over the horizon to be casually and horribly slaughtered.  But to treat fifty-per-cent of the human population with such contempt, even in 1913, points to, at best, a lazy immaturity.

  Despite the back cover accolade, it is also one other reason I had little patience for ‘Atlantis’; an overlong, plot-forsaken inventory of satirical pastiche that takes the mystical joke too far and for too long.  Others, such as ‘The Three Characteristics’ and ‘The Stone of the Philosophers’ are of a similar, fantastical setting, equally obscure, and, being more mystifying than mystical, also unlikely to appeal to anyone but the Crowley collector.

  Elsewhere in the collection, and more to his credit, there is the strong sense that Crowley is playing up his contemporary reputation as the ‘wickedest man in England’ as another lampooning target.  This is something of a revelation considering he was still only in his early thirties at the time of their writing.

  Other tales with a contemporary setting, such as ‘The Soul-Hunter,’ ‘Every Precaution’ and ‘The Mysterious Malady,’ turn to insanity as the theme, and enjoyable for all that.  Each foreshadows William Burroughs’s subsequent depictions of science’s faceless amorality; depiction without judgement.  In ‘Felo de Se,’ Crowley suddenly, and pleasingly, appears as himself, (albeit unnamed), justifying encouragement to a prospective younger disciple who intends taking his own life.

  A word on the Foreword by David Tibet and Introduction by William Breeze.  Each is crucially informative and vital for readers coming to this author for the first time to gauge where Crowley himself was coming from. (Somewhere few others had been in England at the time). Not always great, but never less than intriguing, the best of these forty-nine tales (nineteen of which are published here for the first time) may yet fulfil the label, ‘a classic release.’