Review: Satanism and Witchcraft: The Classic Study of Medieval Superstition

Satanism and Witchcraft: The Classic Study of Medieval Superstition by Jules Michelet
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A fabulous, albeit most likely wholly innacurate rendition of the medieval witch craze. I enjoyed this greatly mainly due to Michelet's truly incandescent narrative flair. The French writers I have read seem to have truly unique and inflammatory voices, often radical and often saturated with a festering nihilism - an abhorence of humanity in all it's grossness and grotesqueness.

This would be enjoyed by anyone who enjoyed Lautreamont or Huysmans, as it surges with a very similar repugnance for human life and revels in the foulness of damned souls, perversions and the black arts, with a philosophical spin.

Michelet creates a wholly original spin on the topic through his choice of presenting the book almost as a fictional account. The story of the witch is developed through the initial half of the book - the latter dealing with analysis of specific French trials. Hugely enjoyable, but to be consumed with a generous pinch of salt (maybe throw it over your shoulder for good luck afterwards).

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The Kingdom of the Pearl

The Wild Hunt

Johann Wilhelm Cordes, The Wild Hunt, 1856/7

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'Twas hush'd: - One flash, of sombre glare,
With yellow tinged the forests brown;
Uprose the Wildgrave's bristling hair,
And horror chill'd each nerve and bone.

Cold pour'd the sweat in freezing rill;
A rising wind began to sing;
And louder, louder, louder still,
Brought storm and tempest on its wing.

Earth heard the call;- her entrails rend;
From yawning rifts, with many a yell,
Mix'd with sulphureous flames, ascend
The misbegotten dogs of hell.

What ghastly Huntsman next arose,
Well may I guess, but dare not tell;
His eye like midnight lightning glows,
His steed the swarthy hue of hell.

The Wildgrave flies o'er bush and thorn,
With many a shriek of helpless woe;
Behind him hound, and horse, and horn,
And, 'Hark away, and holla, ho!'

With wild despair's reverted eye,
Close, close behind, he marks the throng,
With bloody fangs and eager cry;
In frantic fear he scours along.-

Still, still shall last the dreadful chase,
Till time itself shall have an end;
By day, they scour earth's cavern'd space,
At midnight's witching hour, ascend.

from Sir Walter Scott's poem 'The Wild Huntsman'
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Wotan on Sleipnir by Arthur Rackham

Review: Brunt Boggart: A Tapestry of Tales

Brunt Boggart: A Tapestry of Tales by David Greygoose
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is an exceptional book, a truly original and startling 'tapestry of stories' set in three distinct sections. Greygoose's prose is unique, with more than a passing nod to Dylan Thomas' 'Under Milk Wood', with lavish use of self fashioned adjectives. All manner of strange and wonderful characters clutter the twilit pages, glimmering in the dark world of Brunt Boggart.

Strange and clandestine folkloric rites are practised in the fields, odd characters slip and scuttle between chapter and page. Greychild, who was abandoned in the woods and believed to be a wolf, semi feral and scavenging the local cottages for food, is a central character. The book deals with the concept of the mythic journey, self discovery, industrialisation, and enlightenment.

Reoccuring symbols include poppies, eggs and five pointed stars.

The reason this didn't merit 5 stars was the sheer size - at nearly 400 pages this is lengthy, and at times I felt it could have been edited down slightly. the sheer scope and range works against the book at times, as it becomes meandering and often feels a little directionless. Ultimately I think these stories should be viewed as surreal dreamscapes, wonderful dream snippets and glimpses into a quasi medieval past. There is a vague story thread connecting them, but it isn't essential to the enjoyment of the individual tales - as the book itself proclaims, it is a taspestry, heavy woven with rich spangling threads, and embellished with wondrous gee gaws and trinkets.

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