Reviews

Stuff I’m Reading Now: S.M.Stirling

This is not directly related to Heathenism, but I felt that some of our readers might enjoy hearing about the incredibly aewsome Sci-Fi series I’m reading now. 

The series is written by S. M. Stirling, whose works have been slowly working their way onto my favorites list for a while now.

The first books of his I read were the Falkenberg’s Legion Series, co-authored with Jerry Pournelle. They’re hard core military science fiction centered around a mercenary force hired to train and set up the army of the newly settled planet Sparta. I first discovered these when I was living in Brazil. There was a great big multi-lingual used bookstore in the city that was well stocked with military sci-fi and I’ve been hooked ever since.

The next books of Stirling’s I read were the Draka Series. These are more in the alternate history/military sci-fi genre, chronicling the takeover of the world by a race of Nietzchean supermen from South Africa. Inevitable comparisons to the Nazis are subverted only by having the Draka kick Nazi ass and enslave the entirety of Europe, as well as Asia and Africa.

Most recently I enjoyed reading his Nantucket Series, exploring the adventures of a small population of Americans who find themselves unexpectedly transported back to the year 1250 B.C.E. That’s a really fun one, filled with Indo-Europeans, Homeric Greeks, Egyptians and Babylonians running every which way.

But now I’ve starting reading a series from S. M. Stirling that I just had to share with you all. This is the Emberverse Series, which asks the question “What would happen if guns, bombs and electricity all just suddenly stopped working…for ever?”

Well, if you answered “it would be chaos and lots of people would die”, then give yourself a cookie. (Or don’t, if you’ve been following or nutrition posts.)

But there’s more! Some people would survive (and this is where it really gets fun!) and maybe some of those in the best position to survive would be the ones with skills applicable to surviving in a world without advanced technology. Ex-military, martial artists, hunters, horse wranglers, Wiccans, organic farmers, medieval re-enactors, living history types…wait, what, back up. WICCANS? You expect me to believe that WICCANS would be the people most likely to survive a technological Apocalypse?

Yeah, well, it makes some sense if you think about it. There’s a fair degree of crossover between Neo-Paganism, organic farming and the whole re-enactment/living-history vibe. If our hypothetical Wiccans were lucky enough to team up with a few hunters and ex-military types early on, they just might have what it takes.

Now, I grant you, this whole series would be made a whole lot more realistic if the primary protagonists had been Heathens and not Wiccans. (Everybody knows that Heathens are the hardcore survivalists and that Wiccans are just a bunch of tie-dyed hippies.) But from a mass market publication, I think we can understand that that may have been expecting too much. We almost get there, anyway, as the Wiccans’ strongest allies end up being a bunch of bear-skin wearing mercenaries with a Tolkien fetish.

Believability is not really the primary factor here, anyway. These books are fun! Particularly if you’re anything of a history buff and have ever wondered “wouldn’t it be great if we could all go back to fighting with swords and spears and arrows?” Well, here you have it. There’s plenty of good, gritty medieval combat action. There’s plenty of singing, home-brewing and old school country cooking. There are plenty of references to magic and mythology that fit in perfectly with the context of the story, without too much blurring of the line between fantasy and sci-fi.

I’m only on book two of the series, but so far I rate Emberverse two-thumbs-up. Start with Dies the Fire.

P.S. The primary action of this series is set around Portland and Oregon, which may or may not make this extra fun for certain individuals.

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Review: Georgia Through its Folktales (Michael Berman)

Georgia Through Its Folktales by Michael Berman, with translations by Ketevan Kalandadze and illustrations by Miranda Gray
2010, O Books, 153 pages

This book is unlike most compendiums of folktales for two reasons: firstly, the relative obscurity (in the English language at any rate) of the subject matter; and secondly, the unique and fascinating reflective threads with which the stories on offer are bound together.

Georgia Through Its Folktales is part travelogue, part folk tale anthology, part cultural history lesson, and part spiritual exploration. It is neither fiction, nor is it not fiction; it is neither non-fiction nor is it not non-fiction. Berman and his collaborators have created something odd-ball and unique and characterful in this exploration of Georgian folk traditions.

Georgia is an Eastern European region which hosts a range of related cultures, many of which to this day maintain pagan customs and beliefs in one form or another. Berman waxes lyrical about the rich traditions that persist in this land, the complex and subtle ways in which its people have woven incredibly disparate influences from east and west into a truly unique whole.

In order to enable his (presumably) Western reader to appreciate the stories, Berman goes to great lengths to explain the history and character of the region. Whether the subject is diet, agriculture, or the whimsy of children, Berman approaches his subject matter with warmth and gusto, and it is hard not to be swayed by his obvious love for the Georgian peoples and their traditions.

Yet this book is much more than a kind of travelogue. Berman contends that stories are doors into trance, both in the telling and in the content of the tales themselves. With a background in shamanism, it is no wonder that he turns his attention to the traces of shamanic influence that course through the stories recounted in this book. Characteristic Georgian folk tale conventions – such as vagueness about time and even whether the events recounted are real or not, as well as recurring numerological and symbolic patterns – are analysed by Berman as markers of shamanic experience, suggesting that these stories are rooted in deep spiritual experience and not merely in flights of fancy.

By Juxtaposing such reflections against the folktales presented in the book Berman draws our attention to the complex relationships between spiritual experience, cultural forms, and history. Berman sees folktales and mythology as being more than just the glue or rationale for a culture – he sees them as doors into the divine, and as such as the means for a people to deepen their connection to the beauty and numinosity of the world around them. This aspect of the role of myth is all too often overlooked by more or less atheistic modern commentators.

Without being seduced by simplistic romanticism, Berman skilfully elucidates the relationship between culture and personal spiritual experience in traditional / pre-modern culture. As such this book educates us not only about Georgian culture and myth, but also equips us to explore a fresh appreciation for almost any cultural or spiritual tradition.

One of the motifs of this book is the necessarily hybrid nature of Georgian culture, located as it is near so many other strong cultural groups. Somehow, rather than become a monocultural mishmash, the Georgians have woven a unique and very special identity from the array of influences to which they were and are exposed. I think there is an important point to be made here, namely that the integrity of a culture depends not on isolationism (though of course some separation of identity is necessary) but rather on the creativity and spirit (or otherwise) of its people.

I think this point is very important in this modern age where on the one hand we have those who fear exposure to any kind of difference for fear of losing themselves…and on the other hand those who fear any kind of specificity of identity for fear that they will lose their sense of (perhaps illusory) self-creation. Bubbling through this book is a deeper perspective, perhaps one held by many polytheistic and animistic folk traditions – namely that culture arises not through our narcissism (be it isolationist or dissolute), but through our attempt to find our place in the world in all its animistic glory. It is our means of making ourselves at home in a universe of infinite mystery, and we require all of our creative powers if we are to make it serve that purpose well.

This thought reverberates throughout the widespread continuation of pagan practices and beliefs in Georgia, which often persist in hybrid form together with Christian practices. The Georgian peoples as presented by Berman have found a happy accommodation between polytheism and monotheism, not unlike the followers of Voudoun in South America. While some of us will prefer to have little or nothing to do with Christianity, one cannot deny the spiritual fertility attested to in Georgian folktales and customs, a fertility that appears to have aggressively thrived through fusion of pre-Christian and Christian influences.

It would seem, then, that the Georgian peoples enjoy some unique combinations of cultural and spiritual influences, and indeed draw their particularities of character precisely from these combinations. This may in fact be true of all cultures in some fashion or other, but judging from Berman’s account Georgia is a paragon of such richness.

In case these reflections are misleading, I should also point out that this book never gets lost in the abstract indulgence that mainstream academia often stumbles into. Berman writes with subtlety and draws the recurring motifs of the book together with care and lightness. Rather than spew heavy handed injunctions, he invites one to reflect, think, and drawn one’s own conclusions.

If there are any limitations to this book they lie in peripheral issues – namely, that the proof reading and editing is somewhat lax, and at times this makes the book less readable and enjoyable than it could be. I hope that on subsequent printings the publisher will see fit to correct the various errors that cloud the text so that this gem may shine more fully.

The playful spirit that suffuses this book – both the stories and Berman’s discussions thereof – is its greatest strength. It is a sincere and joyous celebration of tradition, spiritual exploration, culture, history, and story telling. The translated stories are marvellous, and the artwork, which peppers the text freely, is resplendent. I would recommend this book for anyone interested in history, culture, folk traditions, shamanism, and especially, in the peoples and customs of Eastern Europe and the Near East.

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Review: Runic Amulets & Magic Objects (Mindy MacLeod & Bernard Mees)

Runic Amulets and Magic Objects by Mindy MacLeod and Bernard Mees
The Boydell Press, 2006
278 pages

This book is essential reading for anyone interested in runes or indeed European cultural history. Macleod and Mees decline to adopt the recent fashion in academic circles for dismissing the idea that the runes had any kind of magical significance, just as they refuse to pretend that different regions were hermetically sealed from one another. They steer a balanced path between emphasising the many mundane applications of the runes and their magical function, and indeed the book focuses on the latter, as may be inferred from the title.

The authors document and interpret scores of inscriptions from amulets, artefacts, monuments, and written texts, bringing incredible breadth and depth of learning to the task. Their vibrant enthusiasm for the subject matter is infectious, and consequently the book is anything but dry or boring. Indeed, there are even moments of high humour, such as a hilarious passage that recounts some of the more ribald love magic charms of the runic era!

The interpretations and explanations of the inscriptions are fleshed out with background perspective on cultural history and a real empathy for folk long dead, and this make the book much more than just a study of dusty museum pieces to be nit-picked and quarrelled over. The endlessly unfolding cultural and political evolution of Northern Europe over the centuries is explored through the angular scratchings of the runes, and the reality of Europe’s convoluted history is graphically exposed in the inscriptions that remain.

One of the most striking things that emerges from this book is the incredible diversity of runic writings. Although we talk about, say, “the Elder Futhark” as though it were a defined and uniform 24 character alphabet, the reality is that rune carvers modified the characters ceaselessly, obeying all manner of personal whims as to the orientation, style, and variety of ways of carving the runes. There is an almost aggressive outpouring of creative invention in the way that the rune carvers improvised on the basic themes of these archaic characters, a phenomena that we in our age of standardised spelling and formatting might struggle to grasp.

The book goes deep into the patterns and structures by which magical runic inscriptions on charms and amulets were composed. Indeed, their analysis of the five-fold structure of these inscriptions is elegant and brilliant, as is their discussion o the significance of terms like “alu.” Anyone interested in making their own modern rune carvings would benefit greatly from this book, which inadvertently serves as a detailed and clear “how to” manual.

In the course this analysis of the structure of runic amulet inscriptions the authors also underscore how indebted the Germanic runic tradition was to the Etruscans – for the fundamental magical structure used in the rune inscriptions was adopted wholesale from Etruscan/Rhaetic traditions. This is a fine illustration of the point that cultural exchange and mixing can sometimes strengthen the cultures involved and help them become more unique and distinct: this non-Germanic influence surely seeded one of the most distinctive aspects of Germanic culture. The tendency of some academics to only focus on specific regions (say, England) therefore risks grossly distorting our understanding of both history and the runes.

The book also makes the point that the runes were heavily used for Christian as well as Heathen purposes in later centuries, that they were combined with various other magical traditions, sometimes quite elegantly and even seamlessly, though it is clear that their place as a magical tool eroded by the middle ages and their usage became progressively more trivialised. This in turn underscores the complex cultural dynamics unleashed by the coming of Christianity, and the durability of Heathen cultural practices and aesthetics post-conversion, although the magical tradition of the runes seems to have ultimately declined into ignorance and ignominy.

The authors express some very valid criticisms of the use of the Icelandic sagas as sources for understanding rune lore, but their analysis of the Eddic poems “Havamal” and “Sigrdrifumal” concludes that these sources do provide valuable insights for understanding rune magic, again making the point that in the past some academics have been perhaps sceptical of these sources to an unjustifiable extent. This is very useful information, particularly as the mistake of seeing the sagas as a faithful representation of Dark Age Scandinavian culture seems very common.

I find myself disagreeing with the authors’ view that the various rune poems were merely mnemonics for remembering the rune alphabet orders, however. From personal experience I can assure the reader that memorising these poems for the most part) is far more arduous than merely memorising the Futhark alphabet(s) – indeed, I have forgotten my verbatim memory of the poems (though the substance remains), but remembering the correct Futhark order is easy and was, I found, almost a prerequisite for being able to absorb the rune poems into memory. An intelligent young child could happily memorise the rune names and order, but almost certainly not the poems.

Furthermore, the poems themselves seem to echo many aspects of Heathen culture and worldview and paint incredibly evocative images that, at least in my opinion, resonate much further than any putative modern mnemonic equivalent (“the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog” comes to mind). There are various other criticisms that could be made of the book, too, although ultimately it survives its flaws admirably.

On the whole this book is a revelatory window into the free-wheeling, anarchic, and bracing world of rune magic as attested by primary sources (as opposed to wishful thinking in either too-fanciful or too-cynical directions). It is fun, fascinating, and inspiring, and strongly, strongly recommended. The price tag is rather high, and this may dissuade some from making the purchase – but please, take the plunge, Runic Amulets and Magic Objects is worth every penny.

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Review: Days in Midgard: A Thousand Years On (Steven T. Abell)

Days in Midgard: A Thousand Years On by Steven T. Abell
2008, Outskirts Press
268 pages

Open The Poetic Edda at a random page – particularly Lee Hollander’s canonical and nigh-unreadable translation – and you might find Norse mythology to be altogether too bizarre and cryptic to connect with. Such a reaction would be very understandable – Icelandic poetry is insanely complex and the stories seem to have been composed for an audience that already knew the background to the situations and characters. How, then, can we moderns find our way in? How can we translate the connection in our hearts into a form that permits speech and words?

As if attempting to solve this conundrum, some authors have attempted to retell the myths in a more modern vernacular. This has produced mixed results – some of these attempts are very successful, but even the best of these is vulnerable to well-intended but disappointing simplifications and distortions. Blunders such as painting Loki as one-dimensionally “evil” or Freya as a simplistic love goddess really fail to do this complex and subtle mythology the credit it deserves.

Thankfully Steven T. Abell has found a nigh-on perfect solution, and he presents this solution with wit, wisdom, and a knowing wink in the form of Days in Midgard: A Thousand Years On.

This book is an anthology of short stories which Abell originally composed for oral performance (and it would be quite a treat to see him perform I suspect). The stories are mostly set in modern times, or at least fairly recent times. They’re stories of human beings living all sorts of different lives, and Abell is brilliant at conjuring their different universes like a chameleonic insider.

The fulcrum of each of these stories is that somehow the protagonist of each tale needs something to shift or to change in their lives. And that, obviously or not, is where the mythological figures – gods and goddesses – get involved: guiding, provoking, tricking, healing, challenging, and just being themselves.

The image of Thor and Loki walking into a diner (that gets held up by a robber with darkly comedic consequences); or Frigga hanging out at a beach-side resort; or Tyr as a biker who guides folk onto the way they need to go – well, this is potent stuff. Abell taps right into the beating pulse of Norse mythology and lets the red life of it gush out into a form with which almost anyone could relate.

Of course, the human protagonists have no idea that they are dealing with forces divine, and this adds to the subtle hilarity of the pieces. This is exactly how it is when gods walk the world, and Abell throws us right into the deepest heart of what Heathenism is at its best: a sacred bewilderment, a source of hope, a profound love of life, even in its miseries.

There’s a deeper point that Abell makes with this book, perhaps not entirely explicitly: that form and essence are not identical. This book, though it ceaselessly echoes and references the forms of Germanic mythology, nevertheless strikes out in all manner of creative and original directions. And yet, by expressing the ancient creative spark – rather than, idiot-savant style, attempting to create a brittle simulacrum of old traditions – Abell demonstrates that authenticity is just as much about intention and innovation as it is attention to tradition.

Because truly I believe that the experience of these stories in the present is the closest thing we can have to what the original stories must have been like for the original Heathens. I occasionally talk about something called psychological reconstructionism – the idea that evoking the spirit of the ancient ways sometimes brings them into manifestation more powerfully than if we merely copy them slavishly. This book is potent evidence for the value of this idea.

The book is not only written for Heathens, and though it might seem cryptic and maddening at times to those not familiar with the mythological references, I suspect these quirky tales might also seduce the Heathen tendencies to the surface of many a reader or listener. Instead of the idiotic chest-beating that some Heathen authors adopt when trying to spread the word, this book entices and intrigues and delights. Such an approach is much sexier, in my opinion.

And there is something truly, truly sacred about reading stories of the gods and goddesses presented in this fashion. Abell deeply grasps the power and vulnerability of Tyr; deeply grasps the complex machinations of Odin’s mind; deeply grasps the many-shaded richness of Loki’s character (which is very welcome, given how confused so many people, even Heathens, are about this profoundly beautiful, profoundly flawed being).

Interspersed with the main stories are a string of short vignettes evoking scenes from the Icelandic landscape, always with a historical or mythological angle. This is a clever stratagem, because it situates the stories in strong supportive context, particularly for readers who are not familiar with Germanic Heathen traditions and myths. These intermissions help the reader to connect to their own sense of curiosity and wonder, and this serves to heighten the sometimes bewildering magic of the narratives on offer.

I think it is really telling that the gods in these stories appear as agents provocateurs in the cause of needed change. In Abell’s vision they help us heal, let go, ripen, explore, and find our courage in the face of adversity. There is a powerful object lesson here about polytheism: these beings after which we are made deeply understand the fragility and beauty of our mortal predicament, and in their generosity are moved to act for our benefit (though some of the characters in these stories experience this generosity as hardship, being forced as they are to answer for the ill or cowardly decisions they have made).

Steven T. Abell truly is a skald, a word-magician, a galdor-master. He imbues these tales with a light-hearted gravity, weaves narratives that are exquisitely captivating. I really hope that this book penetrates deeply into modern Heathen consciousness – it has the power to help us all transform for the better. For life and myth are not separate, hermetically sealed realms, the one dismal and the other shining. The two are deeply entwined, the necessary condition for one another’s sacredness. And in this book we find a beautiful, marvellous, magical invitation to roam the mysterious road that the old stories of northern Europe shelter so impeccably. Here and now the gods are vital and active and alive…and always with us, their mortal travelling companions.

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Review: Barbarians to Angels: The Dark Ages Reconsidered (Peter S. Wells)

Barbarians to Angels: The Dark Ages Reconsidered by Peter S. Wells
2008, W. W. Norton & Company
204 pages

I’ve always pined for the Dark Ages of Northern Europe, and never been able to justify it – let’s face it, the “barbarian” tribes have been brought into thorough disrepute by the dour Roman commentators of the late Empire. What a pleasure, then, to discover a book that dismantles those jaded opinions with wit and clarity.

Peter Wells is a prominent archaeologist, and in this book he presents – in a fascinating and very readable way – an argument that the Dark Age German and Celtic groups were actually cosmopolitan, creative, innovative, and worldly. The basis of his argument: rather than relying on Roman opinion he relies on the actual archaeological evidence left behind by the supposed barbarians.

The archaeological evidence – settlement ruins, burial finds, sacrificial finds, and so forth, reveals peoples who were anything but backward. They created exquisite new art forms, opened up expansive trade networks (strongly disconfirming the notion that the old Heathens were somehow hermetically sealed from other cultures), and lived largely peaceful lives despite living in a time of great (but, argues Wells, much more gradual than previously understood) change.

Wells’ writing is crisp and bracing and his obvious enthusiasm for the minutiae of archaeological finds is infectious. This book is a powerful antithesis to the dry excesses of so many history texts.

Wells also puts some big dents in the myth that premodern Europeans had terrible nutrition and dental health. Actual examination of the bodies from this period show that they were mostly well fed and had good teeth – one more example of the ways in which the triumphalism of modern medical and dental science is often so much self-justificatory grandstanding.

Indeed, the only real flaw in this book is that Wells seems to gently argue that the Dark Ages peoples should be celebrated as a stepping stone to Charlemagne and modernity – as opposed to simple appreciating their achievements on their own terms.

He also fails to reflect on the extent of the violence and cruelty that Charlemagne utilised to consolidate his Christian powerbase – Wells is right to point out that the conversion was less sudden and simple than some folk would like to think, but I think he leans too far the other way in the process. On the other hand, he does make the important point that many pagan traditions lived on quite happily after the conversion.

On the whole, and despite my ultimately very minimal criticisms, it is deeply refreshing to read such a thorough, detailed, and thoughtful book about European history. Wells grasps both the importance of details and the importance of the big picture, and on the whole this book is a must-read for anyone who has an interest in Northern European history.

There are many brilliant quotes throughout the book but I think I might end on this very thought provoking question that Wells poses on page 201:

“[W]hich people drive change? Is change brought about largely through the actions of leaders, or by the majority of people? To read traditional text-based history of the first millennium, we could think that the persons named in the texts were the decisive factors – emperors such as Constantine and Julian, Germanic leaders such as Alaric and Clovis, other barbarian rulers such as Attila. These individuals and their actions were the subjects of the writers’ attention; hence they form the focus of the textual accounts. But battles were won by armies, not by generals. Surplus production by farms in villages all over Europe enables the thriving trade in amber and glass beads, grindstones, fine pottery and glassware, and other desirable goods. Growth in manufacturing at centres such has Helgö and Southampton, and at inland settlements such as Mayen, fuelled the desire for manufactured goods and trade items throughout Europe. Expansion of specialised industries, such as that in pottery in the middle Rhineland, had no obvious elite component as a driving force. So which group played the greater role in causing the changes during these centuries – the elites or the majority of the people?”

You’ll have to buy the book if you hope to be able to venture an informed answer to this question…

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Review: Visions of Vanaheim (Svartesól)

Visions of Vanaheim by Svartesól
2008, Gullinbursti Press
566 pages

It is no secret that the modern Heathen revival has tended to be very Aesir-centric; even the term Asatru refers specifically to Odin, Thor, and their ilk, to the exclusion of their sibling family of gods, the Vanir.

The time is therefore more than ripe for the Vanic current in modern Heathenry to be given its due, and with Visions of Vanaheim Svartesól and a host of contributing authors have laid the foundations for the theological imbalance of contemporary Heathenry to be redressed.

The book is simply huge, and ranges widely over its subject matter. It provides detailed historical background on European cultures; explores a range of theories about the relationships of the two families of gods to history and one another; provides in depth discussions of a dizzying range of Vanic figures; offers extensive practical ideas for the realisation of what might be termed Vanatru in everyday life; and offers insightful and heart-felt accounts of Vanatruar and their relationships to their deities.

Svartesól sails a tight ship, and by and large this book gets a big tick for making it clear what claims are grounded in empirical evidence or mythological texts and what claims are speculative. This clarity is a considerable strength for the text, because it both enables the reader to draw their own conclusions (or launch into further research), and also affords an insight into the lived experience of a relationship with the Vanir.

In all honesty, this book almost certainly exceeds any equivalent text written for the sake of the Aesir, and Svartesól and her allies have thrown down a serious challenge in terms of quality and dedication. Anyone who had previously dismissed the Vanir will have to reconsider their careless attitude after reading this book: it is a wide-ranging, detailed, rigorous, and heart-felt presentation of the case for Vanatru.

I can’t say I agree with every opinion presented in this book, but in general Svartesól and her contributors are quick to clarify the terms of their perspectives so that if one disagrees, one at least feels that they are not trying to impose their views on the reader by means of misdirection and obscurantism (as some rather less honest authors in the area of Heathenry, and especially runes, have been known to do). As such, this book also represents a valuable contribution to the maturing and deepening of Heathen theology and spiritual thought.

Complaints? An index would have made it a lot more user-friendly – there is so much information packed into this book that it could easily be used as a reference text, but the lack of index impairs that somewhat.

I consider this book to be essential reading for all modern Heathens: for those drawn to the Vanir, this is the foundational text for modern Vanatru; for the rest, this book goes a long way to redressing the strong imbalance in emphasis between Aesir and Vanir in contemporary Heathenry.

Available in digital download, softcover, and hardcover editions.

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Review: Runes: Theory & Practice (Galina Krasskova)

Runes: Theory and Practice by Galina Krasskova
With contributions by Raven Kaldera and Elizabeth Vongvisith
2009, New Page Books.
223 pages.

I have enjoyed what I have read of Galina Krasskova’s writings, so I was quite excited to review this book. Having devoured it, I have come to the conclusion that, although there are some discordant notes that did not sit comfortably with me, it is on the whole a valuable contribution to contemporary runic lore.

The book is not really for beginners, and for the most part assumes the reader already has (or is capable of acquiring) a grasp of the history of the runes, and indeed of Heathenry more generally. It focuses more on explaining Krasskova’s ideas and experiences pertaining to rune work, derived from her many years of experience.

Krasskova is one of those admirable Heathen/runic authors who is open about which of her claims have an historical basis and which come from her own invention or experience. In a world where many authors on runes present themselves as being historically/academically sound – only to then promulgate all kinds of fabrications as “authentic” – this is very welcome.

The book begins with some general comments on rune magic, including Krasskova’s thesis that the runes are sentient spirits; moves to a discussion of each rune (including the Anglo-Saxon runes, a rare inclusion); and then discusses theory and technique for applying the runes to various purposes such as magic, galdr (song magic, which she correctly notes as not necessarily being a runic practice), and divination.

The discussion of the runes themselves is thought-provoking and Krasskova has some fascinating interpretations and ideas. She accompanies her thoughts with translations of the three Rune Poems that history has bequeathed us – essential for anyone who has an interest in the runes – and her discussion is also accompanied by some evocative modern rune poems composed by Elizabeth Vongvisith.

Krasskova’s ideas on divination and singing the runes are very useful. Some authors on rune magic, being addicted to the vice of over-complication, leave the reader feeling overwhelmed and discouraged, whereas Krasskova makes one feel inspired to experiment and explore.

Despite my generally very positive impression, I did have a few raised eyebrows when reading this book. Krasskova’s ideas about runes as spirit allies are very unorthodox, but she pretty much presents the notion as though it were simply a matter of fact. I think a little more transparency with her readers would be appropriate on that score. I am somewhat sympathetic to the idea personally, but there are plenty of very experienced rune workers out there who do not adopt this notion and seem to have no difficulties at all.

Similarly, her claim that runes inevitably and necessarily like to feed on blood offerings is very unusual. I have known many experienced rune workers – and indeed, I am one myself – but I have never before encountered this notion. Again, Krasskova presents this idea as a simple matter of fact, whereas in truth it is quite unusual. I think for something potentially so controversial it would have been in good taste to have explicitly noted that many rune workers would disagree with this idea.

Perhaps Galina has simply assumed that, given her audience are likely to have some familiarity with runes already, they will know that these ideas are unorthodox. Nonetheless, I think that a simple acknowledgement or qualification would have been easy enough to include. Certainly such an inclusion would have been more consistent with her general openness about the difference between historical lore and personal innovation/experience.

Some of the book’s initial remarks on ordeal magic and spirit allies feel like introductory comments, but unfortunately the book does not really return to flesh these themes out. I rather wish the book had been longer; it ends rather abruptly and I felt like she had more to say. This is especially relevant given that this is a book for those who are no longer beginners and who are willing (and able) to dive deep.

I would hesitate to recommend this book to a beginner, but it certainly has given me pause and some fresh ideas for exploration, as well as inspiration to re-examine my own spiritual/magical practice. I still think that Jan Fries’ Helrunar remains unsurpassed as the best modern book on rune magic, but nonetheless Runes: Theory and Practice represents a considerable contribution to esoteric runic literature and offers many refreshing insights and reflections.

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Review: Seidways (Jan Fries)

I knew about this book for years before buying it earlier in 2007. I always felt it would be a revolutionary text for me, yet somehow I never got around to buying it (admittedly in part due to Mandrake’s poor distribution in Australia).

After about 10 pages I decided that Fries is the greatest author on Germanic magic alive. He is able to consider so many perspectives, casually avoids the rigidity of authors such as Thorsson that I found so discouraging as a newbie, and is very open about where research stops and personal opinion starts. His ideas are extremely unorthodox, and the extent of “authenticity” can be questioned about this book in various ways – but Fries never pretends to be anything he is not, and this open honesty is far more preferable than the pompous pretend-authenticity of many other books about historically inspired magical practices.

When I finished the book I immediately read it again, and took about 40 pages of notes. Anyone who knows me would find such conscientious reading totally alien to my usual habits!

His descriptions of seething experiences brought up so many memories of experiences I have had during my life, experiences which I have known were magical and which I loved and longed for… but which I felt unable to explore, to grasp a hold of. Well, Fries gives plenty of encouragement and ways into the conscious induction of trance and seething and I have been regularly and spontaneously delving ever since!

This keen attention and love of the experience of spirit, not just the the forms and images of it, is what makes this book so powerful. It correctly assesses mythology to be a door into that which cannot be said, rather than an end in itself.

His summary of different cultural practices is also extremely interesting and helpful. He is clear that all cultures are not interchangeable, but he is also clear that there can be similarities across culture. So rare to find an author with the political good sense to recognise that culture is neither hermetically sealed nor dissolved into the new age sewer!

This book has also helped to awaken my latent connection to snake energy, which I have felt for years and never been able to make sense of. Given that I see Odin as a snake god (Bolverkr, anyone?), I have been given a huge new lease on life in my relationship to my patron god.

A lot of people I know have bought this book at my urgent insistence, I get very aggressive about it. YOU have to read this book. If you get 10% of what I got from it, then you’ve easily gotten your money’s worth.

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Review: The Whisperings of Woden (Galina Krasskova)

This book is a must for those like myself who, while deeply attached to the integrity of the historical record, want more of heathenism than arguments over matters of fact and history.

This book, then, is a door towards the personal relationship that the author has with Woden. As I have a similar relationship, I found the book to be extremely moving and powerful. It is so rare to read books on heathenism which have any sense of personal connection or understanding. There is no abstraction here.

Furthermore, Galina is extremely clear about where the historical record ends and her own personal inspiration begins. This is an important step because in doing so she demonstrates that care for the historical record can go hand in hand with developing new expressions of heathen spirituality. The latter does not Have to come at the expense of the former.

Some of the practices offered in the book are not that directly interesting to me, largely because some of these things I have invented in my own way already. But the real gift is the inspiration, the invitation to forge new ways of exploring my relationship to One Eye.

Thank you so much for this work, Galina. I am deeply glad that I bought it.

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Review: True Helm (Sweyn Plowright)

Sweyn of course has contributed several articles to the Elhaz Ablaze Guest Journal. True Helm is his first, and rather classic, book. His subject? Wariorship within the Northern Tradition from a living and practical point of view.

I’ve been reading and rereading this book ever since it came out. It presents the glassy and simple surface of Ice (“the broad bridge; the blind need to be led”).

Yet between the words lies a profound depth of wisdom and experience. As I grow, learn more about myself and life, and expand my perspective, I return to this book again and again, and each time I do I am astounded at how much more wisdom there is waiting for me in the wings.

Sweyn writes with a brutally utility-oriented style which really cuts through the pomp of some authors in these subject areas. Much of the book’s real spiritual wealth is expressed indirectly through metaphor or implication, which means that the ignorant will not even notice the author’s insight. It forces you to sharpen your mind and perception.

I do think there are other equally rich ways of understanding berzerkergang than the one outlined in this book, but I dont see them as mutually exclusive.

A book to be studied and treasured.

Buy your copy here.

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