Tag Archives: Tomes

Goddess of the Black Fan

Scroll searched by Jackson Elias and recieved from Hong Kong university:

GODDESS OF THE BLACK FAN

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

More a concertina-like scroll than a book, the beginning and the end of this long stretch of paper are attached to two thin black-lacquered wooden panels using thread tied through a pair of holes in each block (4”×10 ½”). Unfurled, the paper runs to approximately 50 pages of text. Folded, accordion-like, it is held shut with a ribbon of coarse black material. Several Chinese characters have been inlaid on the opening wooden panel in gold leaf (“heishan shen nü” which literally reads as Black Fan Goddess in English). The contents are in Classical Chinese.

Chinese readers will note that the characters used for “Goddess” (shen nü) are also a euphemism for “prostitute,” giving the title a particularly curious dual-meaning for those unversed in its contents.

The binding method can be recognized as pleated-leaf binding (an Indian technique used for religious sutras, later adopted by the Chinese who call it Fan chia chuang), a fashion usually associated with Buddhist religious writings. This style was popular after the 1st century AD, though it can determined with little effort that the work was produced sometime in the mid-16th century due to the materials used.

Considering the fact that it was written in the middle of the Ming dynasty, but used Classical text and Han-era binding techniques it can be seen as oddly an anachronistic, if not deliberately archaic method.

CONTENTS AFTER QUICK SKIMMING:

The book is a long poem dedicated to a being referred to as the “Goddess of the Black Fan,” and describes the author’s murderous devotion to her. Over the course of many gruesome and terrible verses the author tells how he engaged in acts of kidnapping, murder, cannibalism, and what can only be described as bestiality, if not something far worse, all in the name of devotion to this Goddess. The poetic styling marks the author as a person of good education and, if the subject matter was not abhorrent to the extreme, a reader might go so far as to call it beautiful. Even a fleeting skim gives rise to feelings of disgust and self-loathing that will leave the average reader feeling physically ill.

QUOTES:

She stands alone in her temple

Alone atop a bejeweled dais

Her beauty would blast the heavens

Her eyes are dark green pools

A silken tunic she wears

Yellow and black in color, like a wasp

And in her belt she has tucked her sting

Six sickles, sharp as a dragon‘s tooth

Her face she hides behind a fan

Black metal, as black as darkness

My lady, remove your fan

I would feast upon your beauty

The fan flutters but does not fall

She simpers behind the fan and says

“You would make such requests of Me?”

Her voice is like iron shredding velvet

––‹‡›––

Why should Hsien have children when I

have lost mine?

He has never been an honorable man

If there were justice, he would have lost his

children

But thanks to the Goddess, there can be justice

again

Hsien’s house was quiet, and even the servants

and dogs slept

None heard me enter, none heard me leave

A dozing child in my arms, a baby in my

sack

All glory and praise to the Goddess of the

Black Fan!

––‹‡›––

Her eyes remained the same, so green and

deep

So rich and lovely, still could they put me in

a trance

Her eyes remained the same, yet when the

black fan fell

Everything else about her changed

I have focused on her fan and her eyes, but

now I finally see her

Before my eyes, she expands, now a bloated

slug, immense and howling

Her sweet mouth sprouts into five fangfilled

maws

Her arms become venomous snakes, thirsty

for blood

The dragon-toothed feaster towering above

me, her own temple too small

Her mouths open and five voices giggle

girlishly, licking the air

“Tell your Goddess that you love her, Liu

Chan-fang” she taunts

I love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, I

love her

––‹‡›––

Thus have I taken the sickle of the Goddess

and opened my belly

My quill is dipped into my own reservoir

and my own red ink

As my heart has bled for the glory of my

Goddess

Now let my heart bleed to commemorate her

horrors

With these words, my poem is completed

With these words, I die

All praise and worship to my Goddess

My Goddess of the Black Fan

 

Gods of Reality

The diary of Robert Huston:

GODS OF REALITY

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

A thick (over six hundred pages) manuscript; it bears the title Gods of Reality on the first page. Dr. Robert Huston is named as the author. The bulk of the work is on standard-sized “letter paper” (8 ½” by 11”) of good quality, in a fluid, if compact, hand; the quality of the paper declines in the final third and appears to have come from several different sources, mostly Foolscap Folio and Large Post Quarto-sized (8 by 13” and 8 by 10” respectively), likely from Australia. The pages are individually numbered and some of the early portions of the book appear to be dated (starting in February of 1920), though this ceases after the first hundred pages. Sometimes small, frequently unexplained, diagrams of unusual looking devices have been drawn into the margins.

CONTENTS AFTER QUICK SKIMMING:

According to the cover, this book contains the philosophical wisdom of Dr. Robert Huston. He claims that he has achieved wisdom greater than has ever been possessed in the history of man through the aid of a mystical being he refers to as the “Universal (or sometimes ‘Cosmic’ or ‘Divine’) Syzygy”. Huston’s claims are hard to substantiate as the work is disorganized, convoluted, and cryptic.

This might be caused by the fact that, as Huston suggests, readers who have not transcended primitive modes of thought cannot begin to understand the truth he claims to reveal; it might also be due to the fact that the author is a raving, bombastic, megalomaniacal lunatic. In some of his digressions, Huston discusses something called “the Master Plan” and his activities in “the Great and Ancient City” towards those somewhat murky ends.

QUOTES:

Madness is the mark of gods, the response to the whisper of ancient secrets, and the unseen hand that turns the world in its disordered course. With it, I have peered beyond mere dream and pattern, beyond childhood impetuosity and adult grief, beyond the analysis of which other men are capable. Accepting madness, I accept the gods and rule well with their gifts thereby.

Human Perception, Dreams:

The repose of the masses shall soon be disturbed. Their dream-filled wakeful sleep will end. I shall open their eyes to the truth and the power and rule by my great wisdom. Their cave is dark and they see nothing. They believe themselves safe, hidden from the light of a new dawn. But the truth reaches them still. They bury themselves deeper and still the water seeps down to them, carrying whispers of truth.

In sleep the woman came to me speaking tongues I do not know. Yet I easily understood her as she led me deeper into dream. I crawled with her under a vast flat rock to escape the heat of the sun. There she opened a door emblazoned with gold-painted etchings and phosphorescent symbols in a myriad of colors. It was then that I knew her. As she opened the door any fear or trepidation vanished, for now I was to know the truth, for my Master wished it to be so. Peering beyond the door, my mind reeled as a bird through the sky. All the laws of physics had no use for me here. Direction was meaningless, as was form. And yet I descended to a series of platforms. Not because of any external force. No. It was because I willed it.

I awoke in a sweat with a servant standing over me. He held up a cloth damp with blood and it was then that I felt its warm wetness dripping from my ears.

It is by the sheer power of our collective consciousness that we form the world to our understanding. The men of science do not work to understand, they work to force their feeble will on the universe, to make it conform to their petty comprehension. How foolish they are! They do not see that the will of the Cosmic Syzygy is infinitely stronger and beyond His will there are Truths yet stronger, though I dare not yet speak of them.

~‡~

… and yet is it not the case that the dreamer who, in waking, fully believes the world to be ordered and structured, finds his conceptions of reality thrown into challenge? The sleeper, now faced with irrefutable proof that his notions of reality are flawed, lacking, fights and exerts himself until he sees that he can not win. It is then that he screams himself awake. This they call nightmare. This I call vision. This I call wisdom.

Gray Dragon Island & Mountain Of The Black Wind

Sweet bride Hypatia—our Master’s. Her honor is the highest—to birth the Child of God! On her throne at the Mountain of the Black Wind she wails in Truth’s Light. Her pain is the Child’s sustenance and surely he feeds well.

Three points in the Mark. The Great City, the Mountain, and the Island. All shall unite in singing His song at the appointed time. His music, performed in rituals of blood and flesh, will be a fanfare of enlightenment to herald in His reign, My dominion, and the End to all ignorance.

January 14th, 1926:

The day of the eclipse shall arrive and together we bring out of Darkness a new Light. Penhew insists that we use chronometers to ensure proper timing, but we will know the time. His limitations mark his ignorance—he still insists on calling the fourteenth day of January, nineteen-hundred twenty-six. It is propitious though, this Gate formed in the month of Janus, God of Doorways… Only I see this connection, not that puffed-up lover of ancient stones, that drinker of the polluted Nile. Let him worry over his precious vessel. While the Wielders of the Club send the livestock screaming into madness, the Stone Gods shall release their energy to the Dome. The Gate will open. By MY will, Truth will be born!

Purple Temple, Statues

Long before we unearthed it I had visited the place in dreams and visions sent by The Cosmic One’s messengers. Now I have seen it and its power. I would be a fool to let such a power store go to waste. The statues will be as reservoirs; the dome is beyond mortal comprehension but I know it well.

Mind Device

It is so simple, a crown of copper webbing surrounding the crystal spheroid. Though energized by electricity it seems this is not the source of the machine’s greater power. Too perfect! Science defied by such a simple trick! I see the change behind their eyes when I awaken him. He bled from the ears. I stopped that with gauze but some defect of his brain soon killed him. There are others to test.

Lightning Gun

More force was needed, but he showed me the device and its function. None but I, prepared by the visions in my dreams, believed such a device could exist. I knew it to be a mighty weapon and I was right! The apparatus holds the most powerful force of nature. Thunder and lightning bow to my will and smite my opponents, like Zeus! I ventured to the great chamber to test its efficacy in dealing with humans. They roasted quickly, and with a minimum of struggle, just as I saw in my vision.

After some more work, the arrogant creature showed me the schematic and I shall build one myself. The design is complex, but this is no obstacle. The others have brought all the materials and I shall have the honor of assembling the device. Ha! Even the most “gifted” men of science could never imagine such a thing… glory! …to control such elemental forces!

He tells me the piping ones that he so fears flee from the device. I dispatched a party to seek one out and test it, teaching Sullivan how to draw them forth from the darkness. How they burn! The survivors report that multiple applications are needed but the devices are most efficacious. I examined the remains and knew that once armed and equipped my army will suffer no opposition. I will conquer all , even those feared by the City’s Builders. I must make further tests.

The Yithian

I have made the fourth sacrifice to The Timeless and Universal Syzygy and called upon him in his name of Nyarlathotep. Tonight my dreams shall be of the void and I will feel its pull again. In sleep I see them and reach for them, pulling them ever nearer. He has told me my success is near. I shall pluck one from the dark of past eons and bend it to my will. I shall conquer time just as I will hold dominion over space. The Builder shall return to its City as my slave.

 

Wondrous Intelligences

Tome found from Mortimer Wycroft, Cuncudgerie, Australia:

WONDROUS INTELLIGENCES

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

A battered octavo (5” x 7½”). This small book was originally bound in fine red leather but, presumably due to the poor conditions in which it has been kept, the color has faded leaving it a light brown. Only a hint of the ornate cover bearing a traditional diamond-shaped design along its side is still visible. The top of the still intact spine is flat, and bears the faded title of the book and its author, though both are faint and hard to read in poor light. The edges of the pages show signs of wear, while some newer damage to the exterior suggests more recent abuse. Multiple ink-stained finger prints and brown mud-like stains appear in the margins. The print is blocky and the numerous wood-cut illustrations are of a low quality. While no publication date is given, the book’s style suggests the late 17th century.

CONTENTS AFTER QUICK SKIMMING:

This book purports to be the testimony of one James Woodville, a Suffolk gentleman, collecting his dream visions and prophecies. The bulk of the work is focused on Woodville’s torture at the hands of peculiar conic demons. Shown almost as frequently are crude woodcuts depicting a bewildering array of sexual practices that the author prescribes as a divinely-inspired method of protecting oneself from demonic assault and restoring man to the sinless state before the Fall. Many of the images are pornographic by modern standards, even more so when the book was written. The text concludes with a lengthy prophecy outlining the divine destruction of the conic devils in the time before the creation of Man by shapeless (often invisible) and terrible angelic beings, as well as a future apocalypse, in which a sinful humanity is swept away. Woodville’s prose is frantic, obsessive, lewd, and clearly the product of a deranged mind.

QUOTES:

I didst see that ye One before me, Born of ye Pit of Flame, had ye Forme of a Grate Cone, as high as a horse head, at ye Utmost Part were four limbes like unto a snake. Two limbes had claws at their end, like a crabe whilst another had many trumpets, and ye final head had giant eyes, Red like blud and with many small fibres. I set out my Arm against ye Devil only then to learn that what I saw before me was but my Owne Reflection in a Vast Mirror, for you see reader, that as the Demon’s Spirit had taken my Forme and Countenance, I had been affix’d with his.

My devotion knew no limits and I gave myself fully to ye task of freeing my gift of Prophecy from ye Tomb within  my Dreams. Taking much wine, I knew a ruddy Catalan girl in the French Manner – most satisfactorily – thence an Italian, likewise an older servant of my Hostess. I taught her Much to Warde her against ye Demonick Spirits, though I knew Not her Tongue, and she likewise shared Much Knowledge with me. As Lot’s seed was carried forth in a sullied vessel yet remained Clean, so may Man, by laying like Beasts, drive forth ye Demonic Inquisitors as Smoke drives off Bees.

Know you well that when ye Time of Judgment is at hand, and Lord God returns, there will be many Signs. Ye Moon will be as Blud and bear ye mark of red tongued Satan. The Beast will awaken in the West and his City shall rise up from ye waves. Reliah is the name of his Kingdom, and its coming will be on the lips of every man, be he heathen Musselman, Hindoo, or Pious Christian. When ye Beast strides forth from his City the Moon shall be torn asunder by the Whore of Babylon, Mother to Blasphemy and Corruption, and Angels will appear in many places, to carry forth ye Souls of the Righteous in silver chalices to ye Throne of Almighty God on high…

 

Africa’s Dark Sects

Tome found from the Ju-Ju House of NY:

AFRICA’S DARK SECTS (ENGLISH)

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Green cloth over paperboard, 6” by 8 ¼”; 328 pages, with the title stamped on the spine. Though the date of publication is listed as being only four years previous (1921), this book is in very poor condition. The spine is broken, the back cover is cracked, and multiple pages are dog-eared. There are also some marginal  notes in pencil.

The author is given as one Nigel Blackwell; no publisher is listed. The end paper inside the cover bears a bookplate indicating it belongs to Harvard University’s Widener Library.

africa-cover

CONTENTS AFTER QUICK SKIMMING:

This book collects the papers of Nigel Blackwell, a minor self-funded African explorer. No attempt seems to have been made to organize Blackwell’s work (there is no index for example) and the topics vary widely. The focus of the work is on African cults and esoteric religious practices—the more gruesome or vile the better. Cannibalism and bestiality are some of the more comparatively tame practices discussed.

The author treats the blasphemous religious claims of the various African tribesmen he discusses with an undue and unexpected degree of credence. Regions discussed include East Africa (the Kenya Crown colony and German East Africa in particular), the Belgian Congo, and West Africa (especially the Niger River basin).

QUOTES:

Beyond the reach of the great Abrahamic faiths, Africa retains the primal truths of human society and religion; society is as raw and unformed as the landscape. The Gods are known by their old names and not prettied up by hymns and incense. It is here in this great continent of the Id that Man may truly know himself. That Man, as a whole, is so brutal and untamed at his heart, only shocks the unlettered or those blinded by the false trapping of the prison we have built for ourselves in our so-called civilization.

The cult, named in whispers by the natives ‘The Bloody Tongue,’ is supposedly based far in the interior, but has followers in Mombassa, Nairobi, and even Muslim Zanzibar. Their idols are human shaped though surmounted with a long red trunk instead of a head, and it is rumoured that more than one missionary has discovered that when the whites leave, the natives swap a head topped by a crown of thorns for one with a bloody ‘tongue’.

The sorcerer would then rend flesh from his own body, usually the arm, and spit the bloody offering into the mouth of the body supposed to be raised. A great chanting would be then undertaken by both sorcerer and his audience. The words are not in the native Yoruban. I have attempted to capture them phonetically:

“Hu ning lui mugluwal naf wugah nagal atzu tuti yok sog tok foo takun. Atzu tuti fu takun! Hu ning lui. (Compare viz. Waite and Zimmerman)”

Tomes from Carlyle safe

Matthew Griswold VI received the following four tomes from the safe of Robert Carlyle, when visiting her sister, Erica Carlyle.

LIFE AS A GOD (ENGLISH)

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:

White leather over wood, crown quarto, 7½” x 5”, unnumbered but about 160 pages; a holographic (i.e., handwritten by the author) account by one Montgomery Crompton bearing the title “Life as a God” within a poorly rendered frontispiece of faux-Egyptian styling. The text is sloppy and erratic in brown, and sometimes fading, black ink. The book was amateurishly bound and the spine is separating in places.

handwritten_strange-language

CONTENTS AFTER QUICK SKIMMING:

This work purports to be the diary (though it functions more as an autobiography) of Montgomery Crompton, a British soldier and artist. Its first few pages recount his life as member of the landed gentry in Northern England up until he is dispatched in 1801 to Egypt under General Sir Ralph Abercrombie.

Seriously wounded in battle, he recovered after several weeks of a high fever and a series of what he claims were occult visions. Remaining in Egypt to recuperate, he was inducted into a secretive cult. Claiming to have survived from ancient times, the cult worshiped a mythical figure known as the “Black Pharaoh”, a forgotten ruler of ancient Egypt said to have possessed magical, possibly divine, powers. As a cult member, Crompton witnessed and participated in acts of torture, murder, and rape, as well as weird magical ceremonies all in praise of this Black Pharaoh (sometimes called “Nivrin Ka”).

In 1805 he returned to Great Britain where, settling near Liverpool, he and a group of other British converts attempted to replicate the cult and its depraved rites before being thwarted by unnamed, but mockingly condemned, local authorities. Crompton apparently composed this work whilst incarcerated in an asylum. Even from a quick skim, it is obvious that the author was a murderously sadistic lunatic prone to megalomaniacal delusions, foremost of which is that he would achieve god-hood through his occult practices.

QUOTES:

The man standing before me was of swarthy complexion, but with a haughty bearing befitting an Emperor. He reached out a hand to touch my cheek, my wound shrieking in agony until he brushed it, washing away my pains. He spoke to me, in low tones, with a voice like a mother to an infant babe. He spoke to me of his grand design which would unseat the rule of Man for the rule of the true Gods, and how I might serve him. I knew in my truest heart that this was the purpose I had so long sought, that in His service, I would be made whole and pure and that those who had wronged me so greatly would be brought low. I wept in joy and promised I would serve him gladly.

<•>

The beggar was held fast by my brothers and I, eyes tearing with joy, struck him mightily with the sacred club again and again, until he was rendered insensate by the pain and his limbs were useless. Filled with wordless praise for Him who Dwells in the Shadow before light comes, I turned it in my hands then pierced the wretch’s heart with the cunning bronze spike. His scream of agony washed over me and I was reborn as a full Brother and servant of the Pharaoh of Shadows.

<•>

Its angles were magnificent, and most strange; by their hideous beauty I was enraptured and enthralled, and I thought myself of the daylight fools who adjudged the housing of this room as mistaken. I laughed for the glory they missed. When the six lights lit and the great words said, then He came, in all the grace and splendour of the Higher Planes, and I longed to sever my veins so that my life might flow into his being, and make part of me a god!


PEOPLE OF THE MONOLITH (ENGLISH)

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:

White leather, 6¼” x 10½”; 104 pages, title on cover page. This slim volume looks to have been hand-crafted with an eye towards quality bordering on opulence. The pages and leather cover are excellently hand-stitched and the paper used is top quality. The pages themselves were printed as individual lithographic plates, that is to say, etched on plates rather than with a regular moveable-type press. Every page has elaborate geometrical designs along the border; there is no artwork as such, save for grotesques incorporated into the first letter of each poem.

3268963397_0987877914_z

The most striking feature of the book is the unusual medallion on the front cover. It appears to be a very thin slice of some sort of polished translucent rock, placed over a thin sliver backing, creating a weird mirror-like effect in rich gray and white tones. The pattern of crystal formation is highly symmetrical and suggestive of organic forms.

The front page bears, in a bold hand, a dedication “To Mister Roger Carlyle. I hope you find these words to be as inspiring as yours were to me at our last meeting. My regards to Anastasia—Tyler.” There is no publisher or date of publication given.

CONTENTS AFTER QUICK SKIMMING:

This work is a collection of poetry by one Justin Geoffrey. The poems are in a modern style, generally without fixed meter or structure, but with a clear thematic link—menace, horror, and a (sometimes romantic) nihilism. Titles include “Out of the Old Lands,” “Strutter in Darkness,” and the titular poem “People of the Monolith”.

The work is disturbing and shocking, at least to amore sheltered reader. The stark horror of the poet’s words are not tempered by the beauty of his writing.

 QUOTES:

They say foul beings of Old Times still lurk
In dark forgotten corners of the world,
And Gates still gape to loose, on
certain nights,
Shapes pent in Hell.

– “People of the Monolith”

 They lumber through the night
With their elephantine tread;
I shudder in affright
As I cower in my bed.

They lift colossal wings
On the high gable roofs
Which tremble to the trample
Of their mastodonic hoofs.

– “Out of the Old Land”


THE PNAKOTIC MANUSCRIPTS (ARCHAIC ENGLISH)

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:

A manuscript, 10” x 12.5” bound in pale green leather. The cover has no title, only a peculiar pentagram-like symbol, seared into the heavy bindings. The title page gives the work’s name, followed by a subtitle “As written in the so-called Pnakotik Scrolls, as translatid from the Greke by the author togeder with addicional remarkes upon that worke in the light of Newe Lerning.”

The print is neat, typeset in archaic English. A printer’s mark says “Trevisa et fils. 1496,” but the binding appears to be much more recent. Periodically plates (presumably bearing illustrations) appear to have been carefully cut from the book. Pencil annotations in modern English appear frequently in the first third of the work (usually glossing the more archaic language), but decrease in frequency afterwards.

ars+obscura+lovecraft+tome

CONTENTS AFTER QUICK SKIMMING:

This work claims to be a translation of an otherwise unknown series of documents (The Pnakotic Manuscripts) brought to the West after the fall of Constantinople in 1453. These are said to be Greek translations of even older documents chronicling an otherwise unknown epoch of the pre-human history of Earth. The unidentified translator claims to have obtained this work, also called The Pnakotik Scrolls and The Scrolls of Pnakotus, from an unnamed refugee from the Byzantine Empire. This translation was made in conjunction with the help of another (also unnamed) Greek scholar.

The body of the text is a haphazard jumble of myths outlining the history of various fabulous kingdoms and civilizations of Earth before the rise of Man (as well as other places specifically said to be not of this world). Discussions include a catalogue of various races in residence on the Earth during the ages before man, the actions of various legendary figures, and the myriad inhuman deities worshiped by both. A final section traces the mythic history of the book itself, from fragments uncovered in some vast non-human library (the so-called “city of Pnakotus”) to the scribes of vast pre-historic human empires who consulted with improbable “others” (some sort of flying, barrel-shaped beings) in their efforts to understand the work.

It seems likely that this work is a compilation of a host of mystical texts, many of which arepreserved only in fragmentary form.

QUOTES:

“And from Sykranoetia reysed Xatogia, taking the forme of a grete furred tode, he dwelled in the cavernes of Ienkae and the walkyng serpents of Ioth helde Him in grete reveraunce much to the grete anger of Yigge, the God of thosebeasts…”

—•—

“Myghty was the war betwixt the Elder Ones and the Dwellers in Real-yea and yet upon the endyng dayes of sayd war, the Elder Ones drew strong powyrs hild by the Spear of Neth and unmayd the verry lande of the Earth and Realyea was caste downe beneeth the wayves of the Grete Western Ocean.”

—•—

“Hyer on the sloep climmed Goode Sansu, tho the sloep of Hatikala grewe ever more steep, for he sot the Gods themsylves, sayd as they were to dwellin at the verry sumit of the Peake. But naughte was to be found there save Ice and Snowe, for the Gods dwelt ayleswere…”


SELECTIONS FROM THE LIVRE D’IVON (FRENCH)

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:

A parchment bundle, 10” by 15”; 179 pages. The pages are obviously old, and have suffered from both the elements and the negligence of past owners. The most obvious damage to the work is that the back edge of each sheet is ragged. The work is handwritten and copiously illuminated with grotesque faces, obscene marginalia, and a recurring curious sigil resembling a triskelion. While it is obvious that Roman characters are used, the condition and age of the manuscript makes the language difficult to determine but judging from the paper and script used, an expert can date the creation of this work to the mid to late 15th century though the language is a Norman variant of French from an earlier period.

domesdaybook_hmed_11ahlarge

CONTENTS AFTER QUICK SKIMMING:

The book purports to be a commentary on the Liber Ivonis (Book of Eibon), a work supposedly written by Eibon, a sorcerer in distant antiquity. The author of the commentary is one Gaspar du Nord, a self-proclaimed sorcerer from Averoigne, a region in south central France. The discussion within, written in an elliptical and didactic manner, is a wide-ranging commentary on ancient and contemporary theology, magical ritual, and fantastic history.

The author focuses upon the lives and magical discoveries of several antediluvian sorcerers in a kingdom called “Hyperborea,” with a particular emphasis on “Eibon,” the supposed author of the original work. Eibon apparently entered into some sort of pact with a powerful being (perhaps a god?) known as Sathojuè, granting him both greater magical abilities and access to arcane secrets. Other powerful beings and species are mentioned in only passing detail, but include a race of ophidian magicians and a malevolent and immense white worm that brought Hyperborea low in some icy apocalypse.

The author also boasts not only of his own magical studies under the wizard Nathaire, but also of his defeat of his former master. Though du Nord claims that his purpose is to give instruction to the novice magician, he often obscures his meaning in allegory or oblique references. A reader lacking a copy of the Livre d’Ivon will find Selections from the Livre d’Ivon a daunting and frustrating work.

QUOTES:

“…I therefore submit this commentary. It contains no wisdom that is not a reflection of the wisdom of the Unfathomable One, Eibon the Inscrutable. It contains no secret that is not His, and no power. I, whose language is paltry and whose art is dim, scribe this meager work only because I fear that in my error I have corrupted the text of the Book, and wish to absolve myself to the reader of my crimes of omission by presenting what little knowledge I possess of the land above the north wind, and the deeds wrought by the men who dwelled there.”

– – –

“By certain signs and secret signals, it may be deduced that the hoary huntsman whom the Unfathomable One speaks of in the parable of the Eremite is one and the same as the Huntsman, whom the witches and the farmers whisper of in the dark forests of the Empire to the east. Those who would speak with Him would be wise to travel where men do not go: to the dark places of the forest, or the harrowed shore. It is there that the seeker must make the sevenpointed star upon the ground, and burn the seven tallow candles, and break a stave of ash, and mend a spear of elm. It is there that one must call Him by his secret name, Nodens, and mediate upon the Eremite’s rhyme: ‘King of empty spaces/Lord of lonely places/I risk the huntsman’s wrath/my mind has wandered from the path/as sun slips beneath the sky of grey/Huntsman make me predator not prey.’ Know this, however: He is no friend of the magus, for he hates the magician’s gods.”

– – –

“The sky grew dark when I reached the blighted lands, and I knew that Nathaire had grown very strong indeed. He had scribed his name in the Black Book, and his new master, le Homme Nuit had sent two black dragons to serve him. In the endless night they were ever-watchful, but the learned one need never hold fear in his heart save of Sathojuè, who is everything and nothing. Recalling the texts I had studied so long, I considered Eibon’s symbol and how it might call forth a wheel of mist, that I might travel unseen by yellow eyes. It is written that one need but cross the arms across his chest and speak the words: xiothui terragyrus maturin…”