There was one book that really let me down with regards to expectation, but it is all I have read of the author, and I couldn't even finish it. It was HP Lovecraft and the Black Magick Tradition by John L. Steadman. I had bought it for a plane trip to Florida and was really hoping it would give me the kind of survey of Lovecraftian inspired traditions. At first it gripped me with some info on HPL's life and some of the social struggles of his characters and even shed light on the more "racist" aspect of his works - for instance, its always the "inferior ones" who know to get away from the horror, while the intrepid WASP strides boldly into cosmic self destruction. Probably due to alienation from living in New York and being married to a Jewish woman who was always away from home as a travelling saleswoman so the bills could be paid and he could write. But this was all based on another's research, and when it got to practical application the book...died in my hands.
I tried to read it, but I felt like the author was masturbating into print, and I quickly grew tired of the universal application of his viewpoint to "black magickians" and what they do. Perhaps I am a prejudiced fuck and lacking in appreciation, but I seriously contemplated throwing the book in the trash at the airport in spite of the money I spent. But then I got superstitious and did not want the curse to spread. So it lurks in my house somewhere I know not what, but if the Outer Ones want me to cringe, then it will turn up. At which point I will take it as my cue to re-start Kenneth Grant from the top and do some cabalistic tapdancing.
