June Book Club: Hex by Jenni Fagan

Our next book club is hybrid! Join us online or in the wonderful Typewronger Books, Edinburgh on 6th June at 7 pm to discuss our next read, Hex by Jenni Fagan.

Hex tells the poignant tale behind the North Berwick Witch Trials. At 112 pages, it can be devoured in less than two hours but it may well stay with you for much longer. This novel has been praised by the likes of Salena Godden and Douglas Stuart; Irvine Welsh said it was “One of the most stunning literary experiences I've had in years.” In 2013 Fagan was the only Scottish writer to be on Granta’s Best of Young British Novelists list.

Tickets are FREE – to get a seat in the bookshop email info@typewronger.com. To join via Zoom, email us at cunningfolkmagazine@gmail.com. Order the book from Typewronger and get 10% off the RRP. Weather permitting, after the event there will be refreshments available outside.

Re-Enchanting Your Bookshelf

No—I’m not talking about bringing more fantasy and magical realism to your bookshelf, though it might mean that. I felt called to write this after scrawling through reviews for Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles, and seeing reader after reader preface their review with disclaimers such as “This was trash” followed inevitably by “but I enjoyed it.” Why do we feel the need to excuse our pleasure? What’s more, why do we assume entertainment is not worthy? Some books might impart little insight, but of all books I have seen generate reader shame, this one irritated me the most. Anne Rice’s atmospheric Vampire Chronicles dealt with questions of suicide, existential emptiness, grief, and the shadow self, as well as their place within theology. It isn’t her fault that her vehicle for these ideas was this folkloric archetypal monster that haunts the shadows, nor that these turned out to be such engaging stories that connected with readers. On the contrary I would have thought it a sign that she was a master of her craft. She redefined the vampire myth and connected with readers on a deep, archetypal level, revealing the shadows of our collective unconscious.

In the 19th century, good writing was popular writing. Dostoyevsky, Dickens, Tolstoy, and Dumas all published their stories as serials, and readers wanted more and more. These were not stories that centred magic but they were engaging and their prose simple. It wasn’t too different from the way we binge Netflix series today. Admittedly they were often a little on the long side, bloated with what now might be considered filler content (I remember scenes of pastoral life getting tiresome in Anna Karenina, in particular), but we have to consider that they were paid by the word or line—and that their words were in great demand. Still, Tolstoy and others like him demonstrated an ability to say a lot with a little in tight short stories such as The Kreutzer Sonata, and The Death of Ivan Illych. It is hard to write a story where you know the heart so well that the prose can narrow in scope. Think of the those books in the careers of modern writers such as Cormac MccCarthy’s The Road and Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go; both got so close to the heart of the matter there was no need for superfluous lyricism. But beauty shines through their semantic richness. The words alone are just words. They do not self-describe as wordsmiths or lovers of words, as if words were shiny things like gold, diamond and titanium we can mine from the ground. But few words, strung together, can convey deep meaning. The writers who have been described as masters of their craft, such as Jhumpa Lahiri, use prose sparingly and to great effect. 

And yet somehow, we have come to a place where we believe that literary merit is found in the works that experiment with form, that juggle metaphors, however contrived, that find unusual alternatives for clichés no matter how longwinded and inauthentic. I see it in the way some books are heralded above others: loose, fragmented, flat, perhaps edgy, no demonstrative ability to tell a good story or captivate readers. 

Sally Rooney’s first two novels connected with readers in a manner comparable to what would have happened in the 19th century. So many of us felt seen and understood on a deeper level. We also enjoyed the ride. Infamously, Will Self—while promoting a line of macarons at the restaurant Hakkasan in 2019—dismissed her work as “very simple stuff with no literary ambition.” I think Rooney may have had the same bone with books by writers with huge literary ambitions and self-consciously complex prose. In her Normal People, one character laments the state of modern literature: “It was culture as class performance, literature fetishised for its ability to take educated people on false emotional journeys, so that they might afterwards feel superior to the uneducated people whose emotional journeys they liked to read about.” I wonder if in writing her Beautiful World, Where Are You? she was taking a stab again at this literary world, at once criticising the “pretty little novels” about nothing, and (arguably) writing one of them (to make a point?). 

Seriously, our priorities have shifted so much: a few months ago I was reading a piece in The New Yorker where the reviewer slated Roberto Bolaño’s prose for its purported flatness. The author Giles Harvey remarked: “He was something of an anachronism: a great novelist who was not a great writer. You have to go back to Balzac and Dostoyevsky to find masters of the novel form who showed so little interest in the sentence.” But if verbosity is seen as the peak of literary prowess, we wouldn’t have Albert Camus or Gustave Flaubert or so many of the writers who are considered masters of their craft. As a Zen gardener pares back the chaos to show us what is most important, I think good writers know which words matter. 

This tendency towards self-flagellation exists in other arenas in the art world, too. In a bid to accumulate cultural capital, we’ve stared bleakly at grey canvases justified with an essay full of art talk, read those books that everyone is supposed to like and praise when they offer us nothing at all. Sometimes their hype is justified. But I don’t think many of the works praised for their worthiness now—or namedropped in conversations—will stand the test of time. Ideas about whether or not art ought to be enjoyed have been shifting since the industrial revolution. Now many of us will gladly—or rather, unhappily—sit through a 4-hour opera in absolute silence. In the 18th and 19th century, opera was a more leisurely affair. You’d go irrespective of what was on. It was a chance to meet friends, perhaps meet your future partner. Complain about the performance or sing its praises. Drink and eat. Ilana Walder-Biesanz writes for Opera Vivre about how, in the 18th century, composers would give a less prominent singer the first aria in act two: “This was known as the “sorbet aria”: it was traditional to serve sorbet at that time, and the clinking of the spoons made the music difficult to hear.) If the opera truly bores you, you can always pay a visit to friends in another box or head to the gambling tables.” Cut to the present moment, and eating so much as a snack at the opera is frowned upon, a clear sign of unsophistication. You lose cultural capital. 

What we place value in culturally shows what we place value in spiritually. Sometimes I read a book and I think the answer is: we place value in nothing. At the heart of so many books is an empty husk. We are granted a few slivers of real life, and no thread to connect them all. There is no meaning. 

This is not to say we can’t have our lyrical novels. A good question might be, to steal from Marie Kondo, do they spark joy? Admittedly this might not be the best measure of the value of a piece of art. It might make us suffer. But that might have a function too. Since our first attempts at art, from the first cave paintings onwards, we’ve been forging storied relationships with the world outside of ourselves and the world within us, honing the art of meaning-making. Do we really need another book about a sad figure wandering around suburbia feeling disenfranchised? Perhaps yes, if it comes from a place of truth. Richard Yates’ Revolutionary Road feels potent and true and leaves you feeling a little different than you were when you went in.

We seem to have arrived in a strange era of binary thinking where the obviously meaningful and impactful and captivating is suspect. The more unnavigable and dare I say it, boring, the worthier. We know binaries are a cultural artifice, so why don’t we acknowledge this?

Re-enchanting our bookshelves means re-injecting wonder, life and meaning into books. Long have our strange species looked to the written word to find out who we are and who we can be and who we must not be. I don’t know about you, but after a pandemic and at the onset of another terrible war, I know which books I’ll be putting down—and which ones I’ll be picking up.


April Book Club: Witches, Witch-Hunting, and Women by Silvia Federici

Our next book club is hybrid! Join us online or in the wonderful Typewronger Books, Edinburgh on 20th April at 7 pm to discuss our next read, Witches, Witch-Hunting, and Women by Silvia Federici.

Image © Josh MacPhee

Silvia Federici’s Caliban and the Witch is one of our favourite non-fiction titles, and for good reason it was reprinted by Penguin Modern Classics last year. More recent and less known, Witches, Witch-Hunting, and Women is a slimmer book but examines similar territory; many describe it as an accessible introduction to Federici’s work, condensing many of the same ideas laid out in Caliban. Here Federici examines the root causes of a new surge of interpersonal and institutional violence against women, including witch hunts, a mirror, she argues, of the 16th and 17th-century witch hunts of Europe and "the “New World.” An engaging feminist perspective on the development of capitalism, Silvia Federici’s writings are by now an essential part of the feminist canon. Tickets are FREE – to get your name on the list email info@typewronger.com. Order the book from Typewronger and get 10% off the RRP. Find more details about the Covid precautions via the FB event page. Weather permitting, afterwards there will be refreshments available outside.

What We Are Reading

Redemption in Indigo by Karen Lord - chosen by Wanjiku wa Ngugi (contributor to the Fire issue)


When Paama leaves her good-for-nothing husband, she is met by the djomba—the unding ones—who gift her with the Chaos Stick, enabling her to control the subtle forces of this world. Partly inspired by a Senegalese folk tale, Redemption in Indigo is magical and adventurous debut from Karen Lord, an exciting new voice in Caribbean literature. "Fantasy as a genre does not have boundaries," writes Lord. "It has roots. You may call it fantasy. I call it life.”

No one is talking about this by Patricia Lockwood - chosen by Yasmina Floyer (regular contributor)

This debut novel by Patricia Lockwood is one of the most original books I have read. Our unnamed protagonist provides the reader with an insight into her  innermost thoughts as she navigates what it is to live a life online and offline. Her searing observations examine the way in which the internet, or ‘the portal’ as she refers to it, affects the way we relate to ourselves and how we adapt our thoughts and behaviour in response to the perpetually shifting landscape of the internet. The story has a fragmented form which effectively reflects the bite-sized short form of social media. A poignant narrative is loosely woven throughout the novel and it is one I have recommended time and time again!


The Palace of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni - chosen by Wanjiku wa Ngugi


“Can't you ever be serious?' I said, mortified. 'It's difficult,' he said. 'There's so little in life that's worth it.”Recently we have seen a surge of interest in reworkings of myth. Poet and novelist Chitra Divakaruni re-imagines the Indian epic, the Mahabharat, centring on Panchaali, married to five men who seek to reclaim their birthright, and friend to Krishna. History and myth blur, but the within of this tale are fierce and independent.


Venus and Aphrodite: A Biography of Desire by Bettany Hughes - chosen by Beth Ward (regular contributor)

Venus/Aphrodite is arguably one of the most recognizable and familiar goddesses of the Greek/Roman pantheon. We've all seen the image, Boticelli's  famous depiction of her birth, the copper-haired beauty emerging from frothy waves on a shell, greeting the viewer demurely, a kind of monolithic symbol of femininity and fertility. 

Bettany Hughes, however, isn't so interested in this version of Venus, the version she describes as "safe, attractive, chocolate-box pretty," in her book Venus and Aphrodite: A Biography of Desire (2019). Instead, historian Hughes introduces readers to the goddess before the goddess, the one from the land of Cyprus, from the Middle East, from the Baltic, a great warrior goddess, love goddess, sex goddess, goddess of justice, of fertility and war, pain and pleasure, love and empire, life and death and rebirth.


Hughes' book reveals the story of a shapeshifting immortal goddess some five millenia old who is so much more than an "avatar of commercial romance" draped in pearls and honey. We're instead gifted with the historical tale of a profound and complex deity who, across centuries, has been worshiped as Inanna, Ishtar, Astarte, Aphrodite, Venus, among other names -- one we reduce to an "image on a Valentine's Day card" at our own peril. 

I devoured this book. 


Women and Power: A Manifesto by Mary Beard - chosen by Yasmina Floyer

Whilst this compact book can be read in one sitting, it delves into the weighty and pertinent subject of women and power. Beard, who is Professor of Classics at Newnham College, Cambridge, examines the deep roots of misogyny by taking us back to the myths and societies of the Ancient Greeks and Romans in order to better understand the structural dynamics that affect women today, and more specifically, women’s relationship with power. Beard explores the public voice of women and references powerful women of both the mythical and contemporary world, from Medea and Athena to Merkle and Thatcher. This is a rousing and compelling manifesto that I find myself frequently returning to.


Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry edited by WB Yeats - chosen by Beth Ward


In compiling and editing the collection Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry (first published in 1888), William Butler Yates aimed to preserve and protect the tales of mystery and myth that lent his native Ireland its unique magic. 

This book then is a kind of Wunderkammer, a cabinet of curiosities packed with tales and songs of witches and ghosts, fairies and queens, tales such as "The Fairy Well of Lagnanay," "Changelings," "The Horned Women," and "The Demon Cat." Reading them took me to a kind of shimmering, liminal place, each one rich with myth, and mood, and atmosphere, and enchantment. 

The stories are also mostly short, and I ate them up like little sweets. 


Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor E. Frankl - chosen by Elizabeth Kim (Editor)

This book had been on my to-read pile for so long and I only just got around to it. Perhaps because the story sounded rather bleak: Viktor E. Frankl was a neuroscientist, and a victim of the Holocaust; he and his entire family were prisoners at concentration camps during World War II, where so many Jews, disabled people, prisoners of war, and Romany people were slaughtered by the Nazi regime. While Frankl touches on some of the horrors of Auschwitz and other camps, he emphasises that describing conditions of this experience was not his objective. He was more interested in what happens to our humanity in the most extreme places, where food is scarce and the future seems bleak. Frankl speaks with compassion and deep wisdom about the meaning that can be found even in moments of unthinkable suffering. I was surprised to find in this concise story a spiritual journey and an antidote to existential nihilism. 


Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art by James Nestor - chosen by Elizabeth Kim

The classic source texts make huge claims about the efficacy of pranayama (Sanskrit for breath expansion) in “combatting all diseases,” which I thought a little optimistic, even if I have personally experienced the benefits of breathing well, and know that pranayama has been shown to calm the nervous system and reduce anxiety. Science journalist James Nestor’s book suggests perhaps these ancient authors knew a trick we didn’t, tracing the strange history of breathing, its value in native and indigenous communities, as well as in ancient civilisations. He puts forward a good case to learn to breathe better and provides the tools for doing so.


Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, translated by Simon Armitage - chosen by Elizabeth Kim

“And wonder, dread and war / have lingered in that land / where loss and love in turn / have held the upper hand.” For a period of time, I was obsessed with Arthurian legend. This was one of the titles I didn’t get around to, though felt compelled to revisit it after watching David Lowery’s stunning adaptation starring Dev Patel as Gawain. This 14th-century romance recalls one of the most famous quests from Arthur’s round table. Sir Gawain accepts a challenge from the mysterious Green Knight, one which he must face with courage and chivalry. The Green Knight is such an enigmatic character, he has puzzled countless translators and readers including JRR Tolkien and C. S. Lewis. This version is beautifully translated by Simon Armitage and an enchanting reading experience, transporting you deep into the folds of the land.

Ring by Koji Suzuki  - chosen by Elizabeth Kim

If you thought the film adaptations of Ring were terrifying, the original book trilogy really gets into your head. Reading it, I felt like the book was coming alive. A storm started in the story, and then outside a storm raged. The character could hear the tap dripping and I could too. Infused with the occult, this is a page-turner, simple and effective in its execution, and sufficiently different from the films to surprise you. Expect demons, a legend of a Buddhist ascetic monk with powers of telekinesis, that strange feeling of reality turning inside out. Ring also touches on deeper, existential questions, as good horror should: “See, we don’t know the beginning and we don’t know the end; all we can know about is the in-between stuff. And that, my friend, is what life is like.” I loved this and cannot wait to read the other books in the series. 


Women Who Run with the Wolves by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés - chosen by Maggie Eliana (In-House Herbalist)

One of my favourite story collections, Women Who Run with the Wolves is a compendium of folktales exploring the archetype of the “Wild Woman.” Pinkola Estés has a PhD in ethno-clinical psychology and focuses her work on understanding the cultural roles that women have played, from innocent maiden to cannibalistic crone. This collection in particular aims to help women reconnect with their primal, instinctual nature and to reclaim this wildness. Expect folk tales from various cultures alongside Pinkola Estés’ analysis, as well as beautiful personal anecdotes. My personal copy is filled with notes and underscores as it is simply bursting with inspirational ideas!


The Conference of the Birds by Farīd al-Dīn ʻAṭṭār - chosen by Elizabeth Kim

“It was in China, late one moonless night / The Simorgh first appeared to mortal sight – / He let a feather float down through the air, / And rumours of its fame spread everywhere...”I read this Persian mystic epic poem a long time ago and returned to it now, thinking about our Air issue. A murmur of birds set out seeking the Simurgh, a legendary god-like bird. It seems like a grail quest, one of those journeys without end. Through beautiful verse, we see their doubts, their fears, their trepidations regarding setting out on the way, and the profound things learned from pushing past these obstacles and reaching this seemingly untenable goal. This is a deeply spiritual tale and one I will return to time and time again.


Old Wive’s Tales: The History of Remedies, Charms and Spells by Mary Chamberlain  - chosen by Maggie Eliana

This book provides a unique window into the history of old wives’ tales and the social implications entwined within them. Chamberlain weaves a beautiful story from this timeline of the history of our ideas of spells, charms, and magic while tying it into the social history the ideas are contained within. Throughout human history and across cultures, we see women go from goddess to sorceress, expert, witch, and charlatan. We see what is happening culturally alongside these changes and how these ideas affect wider culture. And as the blurb states, we actually have a lot to learn from such stories.


The Yellow on the Broom by Betsy Whyte - chosen by Maggie Eliana

One of the most wonderful books I have ever come across, The Yellow on the Broom is an autobiographical account of a traveller family in 1919. We are treated to a rare glimpse into a way of life that is seldom found today. Whyte tells her family’s story with warmth, humour, respect, compassion, and matter-of-factness in the face of challenging situations. A true gem of a book, Whyte’s storytelling takes you along with her family on their travels in such a way that one can’t help getting swept along through the British countryside along with them. A book of true wistful nostalgic enjoyment.


Conjure Women by Afia Atakora - chosen by Wanjiku wa Ngugi

Set in the South after the Civil War, here is the tale of three generations of women: Rue, Varina and May Belle. When a strange illness shakes the community, they are divided. To some, Rue’s conjure is healing. To others, it is a curse.

Read our interview with Afia Atakora.



January Book Club: Mrs Death Misses Death with Salena Godden

Please join us for our first live Cunning Folk Book Club on Sunday 16th January 2022 at 6 pm where we will be joined by Salena Godden to discuss her debut novel, Mrs Death Misses Death hosted by our friends at Libreria Book Shop, 65 Hanbury St, London, E1 5JP. Tickets can be purchased via this link.

Mrs Death has had enough. She is exhausted from spending eternity doing her job and now she seeks someone to unburden her conscience to. Wolf Willeford, a troubled young writer, is well acquainted with death, but until now hadn’t met Death in person – a black, working-class woman who shape-shifts and does her work unseen. Enthralled by her stories, Wolf becomes Mrs Death’s scribe, and begins to write her memoirs. Using their desk as a vessel and conduit, Wolf travels across time and place with Mrs Death to witness deaths of past and present and discuss what the future holds for humanity. As the two reflect on the losses they have experienced – or, in the case of Mrs Death, facilitated – their friendship grows into a surprising affirmation of hope, resilience and love. All the while, despite her world-weariness, Death must continue to hold humans’ fates in her hands, appearing in our lives when we least expect her . . .

General admission: £2

Book and ticket: £10


Praise for Mrs Death Misses Death:

‘A fantastically imaginative story about life, death and everything in between – a potent reminder that life is short and every second should be cherished’  IDRIS ELBA

‘Exquisite. A daring, poetic offering that establishes Godden as one of our most exciting voices’ IRENOSEN OKOJIE

‘A rhythmic and powerful poetic meditation on death, life and love and the hidden mysteries of the universe; both playful and sombre, hilarious and human’ NIKESH SHUKLA





Yoga and the Occult: A Reading List

A yogi seated in a garden, North Indian or Deccani miniature painting, c.1620-40 Source: "KAMOD RAGINI. Northern India or Deccan, from a Ragamala series. Provenance Sundaram, Delhi, 1967." Public Domain.

Yoga is now ubiquitous in fitness studios around the world. Many practitioners enjoy it as a workout, focusing on the asanas (Sanskrit for “postures”), with the added dimension of relaxation through various techniques of pranayama (the Sanskrit word for breath control). But yoga, notoriously hard to pin down, is far deeper than its modern iteration. And its influence on the occult and esoteric traditions is tremendous.

Yoga was brought to the Western world both as an import and export; Indian yogis such as Krishnamacharya, Vivekananda, Yogananda and Sivananda helped systemise yoga in a way it could be consumed in the west. Then there were occultists such as Madame Blavatsky, Aleister Crowley and WB Yeats who transmitted yoga through new translations of ancient texts. Yogic philosophy continues to influence the Western Occult and the New Age movement, though it is often buried beneath new jargon. In recent years, there has been much scholarship on the invention of modern postural yoga, and a returning interest to the more esoteric, eclectic side of this practice with roots in Ancient India. If overwhelmed by the sheer volume of literature on this vast subject, here are some reading suggestions to begin. 

The Truth of Yoga by Daniel Simpson

Daniel Simpson lays out an accessible history of yoga, drawing from recent scholarship. Tracing its early mentions in early Vedanta literature and renunciate culture through to modern postural practices, he challenges the idea of authenticity and ancient lineage—the idea that one way is the right way—instead presenting an eclectic, ever-evolving tradition that has changed with each transmitter. Simpson, who teaches at the Oxford Centre for Hindu Studies, invites the reader to tell new stories about yoga that meet the challenges we are facing now, such as climate change and global inequality. He also introduces a lot of ideas with which occult practitioners will be familiar, but under different names. He writes: “Western fascination with the mystical East had inspired occult groups—led by the Theosophical Society—to translate texts, supplementing the efforts of colonial scholars. In their quest to find a common truth behind all religions, they were drawn to study yoga because of its focus on direct experience. “Much of the modern western occult is a tapestry of imperial spoils, intangible as well as tangible, largely syncretised and hidden beneath new terms—you may recognise many esoteric ideas and practices in the history of yoga. A fascinating text, suggested to yogis, as well as occult practitioners looking beyond lineage claims.  


The Ten Principal Upanishads (co-translated by WB Yeats and Shri Purohit Swami)

If you’ve been in the occult community for a while you’ll have heard the terms “Vedanta” and “Vedic” literature floating around. These are the oldest scriptures of Hinduism, and the most recent of these Vedic texts are known as the Upanishads. These texts document a wide variety of rituals and esoteric knowledge in Sanskrit. A central theme is the awareness of atman—known as purusa in Patanjali’s sutras—the higher self, the divine, the witness who sits inside every one of us and connects us to something larger than ourselves. From the Paramananda Upanishad: “He who sees all beings in his Self and his Self in all beings, he never suffers; because when he sees all creatures within his true Self, then jealousy, grief and hatred vanish.” Elsewhere in the same Upanishad: “He who is rich in the knowledge of the Self does not covet external power or possession.” The Upanishads have inspired philosophers, occultists, writers, artists, scientists, and those interested in metaphysics, including the likes of Schopenhauer, Emerson, Thoreau, and Christopher Isherwood.  Around 108 are known, but this book presents ten of the most important. Poet and occultist WB Yeats was a searcher, a member of both the Theosophical Society and The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. In his foreword, Yeats expresses his hope that in reading these ancient ideas from the East, we might recover the mysticism we have lost in the west. From the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad you may recognise the concept of Will, employed later by Crowley: “You are what your deep, driving desire is. As your desire is, so is your will. As your will is, so is your deed. As your deed is, so is your destiny … ".


The Yoga Sutras by Patanjali

Considered a core text to modern yogis, the unknown sage Patanjali is credited as synthesising pre-existing, older knowledge about yoga such as Samkhya philosophy, Buddhism, Jainism, and Vedanta, through 196 succinct sutras (the Sanskrit for “threads”). These sutras explain what yoga is, why it is necessary and what is to be gained from practising it—as well as what is to be lost by not practising. Written at least 1700 years ago, little is known about Patanjali, who may be one person or many or more of an archetypal sage channelled across several centuries. The second sutra defines yoga, in Sanskrit: Yogas citta vrtti nirodhah: “Yoga is the arresting of the fluctuations of the mind.” He goes onto say why you’d do this: “Tada drastuh svarupe vasthanam”—”Then the Seer abides in its own nature”—or then consciousness is drawn back to the purusa or atman. Patanjali lays out key ideas about the eight limbs of yoga: 1. Yama (community ethics) 2. Niyama (personal observances) 3. Pranayama (Breath regulation/control of life-force). 4. Pratyahara (Withdrawal of senses and focus inwards) 5. Dharana (concentration) 6. Dhyana (Meditation) 7. Samadhi (enlightenment/merging with the purusa). He explains concepts such as avidya (ignorance) and vidya (clear understanding) which could be compared to the modern psychological concept of shadow work, different ideas about samadhi, and liberation, before, in the final chapter, presenting more supernatural ideas about what happens when one has gained a mastery of yoga, including the ability to fly through the air, telekinesis, and superhuman strength, a part of the text largely disregarded by modern practitioners. Of the asanas, one of eight limbs of yoga, Patanjali says: “sthira sukham āsanam” or “asana means a steady and comfortable posture,” which sounds a lot like sitting down comfortably. 


The Hatha Yoga Pradipika by Svātmārāma

“The entire universe is just a creation of thought. The play of the mind is just a creation of thought. Abandon the mind which is only thought. Take refuge in the changeless, O Rama, and surely find peace.” Another highly influential text on modern yoga, this classic 15th-century text again synthesises a selection of knowledge on yoga. It is quite practical in nature, recommending that “the Hatha yogi should live in a secluded hut free of stones, fire, and dampness to a distance of four cubits in a country that is properly governed, virtuous, prosperous, and peaceful.” Noted for its misogyny and weirdness, yogi Svātmārāma shares purification methods, 84 asanas, pranayama techniques, spiritual centres of the body (chakra), Kundalini, bandhas, channels of the body (nadi, similar to the concept of Meridian lines in Chinese medicine) and symbolic gestures (mudra). The asanas are predominantly close to the ground, focussed on fanning things that need eliminating into the Agni (sacred fire) located around the solar plexus and responsible for digestion—much of it borrows from Ayurveda, an ancient system of traditional Indian medicine. Memorable advice includes details on how to induce an enema in a river using a hollow bamboo stick, swallowing a rag to remove excess mucous and a breathing technique where you inhale making the sound of a male bee and exhale making the sound of a female bee, to fill the mind with bliss.


The Secret Doctrine by Helena Blavatsky

Madame Blavatsky’s influence on the modern occult, esotericism and new age beliefs is undeniable. In the 19th century, she founded the Theosophical Society, and is credited as one of the early transmitters of Eastern beliefs, including key ideas from Buddhism and Hinduism, and indeed, yoga. She travelled widely, fusing together converging ideas about the divine and the supernatural, and recorded her ideas in two texts, Isis Unveiled and The Secret Doctrine. The latter was a commentary on what she claimed came from Ancient Tibetan manuscripts: a secret doctrine known to Plato and the early Hindu sages, which she says predicted the age of materialism, and its subsequent decline. She writes that a secret brotherhood has conserved this ancient wisdom and are capable of paranormal powers. She details her beliefs about the origin of the universe, borrowing from the Hindu concept of cynical development, reincarnation and karma, and the Platonic idea of Anima Mundi, or a world soul. She held that all religions were in some way true, but that these South Asian religions were closer to the truth. Raja yoga comes up frequently in this text, spoken of in esoteric terms. As a spiritualist, Blavatsky was accused of producing fraudulent paranormal apparitions, and the link to Tibetan masters is sketchy, which led many to think her a Charlatan. The questionable founding myth, as we shall see, is common in most new religions and not unique to Theosophy. Nevertheless, the myth and her teachings had staying power, captivating countless artists and writers, among which were WB Yeats, Lewis Carroll, Thomas Edison, Jack London, James Joyce, Arthur Conan Doyle, Hilda af Klimt and Kurt Vonnegut. Her ideas continue to resonate with readers today and influence modern esotericism.



Eight Lectures on Yoga by Aleister Crowley

Another occultist most of us will have at least heard of is Aleister Crowley. Crowley was a member of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, another 19th-century society with a compelling myth about its origins, which drew from Freemasonry, Qabalah and Hermetic Magic, occult tarot and Geomancy, among other ideas. After leaving this secret society, he set off around the world, like other affluent searchers of his time, seeking an alternative spirituality to the one he was raised with. In India he studied Raja yoga, before returning to Britain and co-founding the A. A., and the O. T. O (Ordo Templo Orientis)., through which he propagated his new religion Thelema. Thelema featured a syncretic blend of Western and Eastern beliefs, including Yoga and the Qabalah. It influenced the creation of Gerald Gardner’s Wicca in the 20th century. Crowley is best remembered for his performative rituals and magick, seldom for his interest in mysticism. One publication from Crowley’s small press was Eight Lectures on Yoga, intended as a concise, demystification of this practice, stripped of dogma. Crowley viewed yoga as an aim higher than magick, and this is considered a vital part of any Thelemite’s curriculum. 


Raja Yoga: Conquering the Internal Nature by Swami Vivekananda


Yoga was also exported to the West by Indian yogis. One such transmitter was Swami Vivekananda, a sannyasin (Hindu ascetic). At the end of the 19th century, he set off to the US, reasoning: “As our country is poor in social virtues, so this country is lacking spirituality. I give them spirituality and they give me money …”. He founded the Vedanta Society and began to teach yoga to meet an appetite for these “exotic” ideas. In 1986 he published his seminal Raja Yoga. Vivekananda regarded all forms of spiritual practice as yoga and was dismissive of the physical practice yoga had evolved into. He claimed this book Raja Yoga detailed the “Science of Religion”, explaining the practice of yoga and providing commentary on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. The prose is accessible and inspiring to those unfamiliar with the material, Vivekananda writes: “there is a continuity of mind, as the Yogis call it. The mind is universal. Your mind, my mind, all these little minds, are fragments of that universal mind, little waves in the ocean …” 



The First Step by Leo Tolstoy

Madame Blavatsky said of Tolstoy: "He is one of those few elect who begin with intuition and end with quasi-omniscience.” To understand occult literature, we sometimes have to venture beyond the canon of this eclectic, ever-evolving traditions and see how various threads intertwine. Mahatma Gandhi was inspired by Tolstoy’s work, and the pair corresponded between 1908 and 1910. In a letter to Gandhi (published later as A Letter to the Hindu), Tolstoy convinced Gandhi to use nonviolent resistance to gain independence from the British colonial rule in the Indian peninsula, citing Swami Vivekananda’s work and the Vedas. So strong was Tolstoy’s investment in ahimsa, or non-violence, that in later life be became a vegetarian and wrote much about it. In his essay ‘What I Believe,’ Tolstoy emphasizes his conviction that we become more violent by inflicting suffering upon animals: “As long as there are slaughter houses there will always be battlefields.” Tolstoy originally wrote The First Step as the foreword to The Ethics of Diet by Howard Williams. In it, Tolstoy encourages readers to practice harmlessness: “If a man aspires towards a righteous life, his first act of abstinence is from injury to animals.” He also suggests that vegetarianism is humanity’s natural state: “So strong is humanity’s aversion to all killing. But by example, by encouraging greediness, by the assertion that God has allowed it, and above all by habit, people entirely lose this natural feeling.”



Practice and All is Coming: Abuse, Cult Dynamics, And Healing In Yoga And Beyond by Matthew Remski


Often in yoga studios, you will hear a distinction made between “traditional” and “non-traditional.” Traditional is misleading though, used to refer to postures standardised in the early 20th century, when India was beginning to codify its own national physical tradition, borrowing from its past. Around this time, gurus such as Krishnamacharya were also beginning to export yoga abroad. Pattahbi Jois, known for developing the modern postural school of yoga called ashtanga yoga, was better known by his disciples as Guruji. In naming his yoga sequence ashtanga, he nodded his head back to Patanjali’s astau angani—eight limbs of yoga—to which he claimed an interrupted lineage. In fact, he claimed his sequence was older yet. He studied with Krishnamacharya, who claimed to have had in his arsenal a 5000-year-old yoga text, the Yoga Korunta. He claimed his only copy was eaten by ants but continued to transmit its knowledge. Jois claimed this as his base for ashtanga yoga. Whether real or not, this mirrors what happened in other esoteric schools, the myth of the secret text, unfortunately destroyed, but fortunately with one person who remembers it. Remski, like other historians, challenges the notion that ashtanga is traditional, instead revealing the victims of Pattahbi Jois’ sexual and physical assault. Sadly this is not the first time a guru has been accused of sexual misconduct; many of us will have seen the Netflix documentary exposing Bikram yoga’s founder. Similar problems have arisen in esoteric orders and secret societies. Remski demonstrates how cult dynamics within such a high demand group create a culture of silence and tacit acquiescence. Remski spoke with a number of practitioners, such as Karen Rain, who had been sexually assaulted by Jois, and others who had been physically injured by his adjustments. He puts forward a persuasive argument against putting trust in any one teacher, and a reminder of the value of interoception—listening to your body. The conclusion is solution-focussed, offering a list of questions for anyone who can see cult dynamics appearing in their spiritual community.



Post-lineage Yoga: From Guru to #MeToo by Theodora Wildcroft

In 2017, the #MeToo movement led to a number of abuse allegations within a variety of different communities. As explored in Remski’s book, the yoga community was not immune; self-styled gurus including Bikram and Pattahbi Jois were outed for their sexual assault and as a result their spiritual practice, and lineage claims, were put into question. We have seen how gurus or esoteric leaders often claimed an uninterrupted lineage to the ancient past. To those in the occult/magic world, this will be familiar. Wicca, before its history was laid bare, claimed to be an old religion, not a modern, creative invention inspired by the past. So too did 19th-century secret societies such as the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. Such claims can be enticing, suggestive that there is an ancient truth that has been covered up by generations of power grabbing, but preserved by an underground community. Such myths and secrecy, as we have seen, can also cover up for stories of abuse and enable one person to accumulate power. Interestingly, Wildcroft belongs to two worlds, the yoga world and the Pagan world. She had already witnessed how scholars such as Professor Ronald Hutton have shown, compassionately, that modern Paganism is a creative blend of old and new, and the growing acceptance and changes within these communities. Post-Lineage Yoga and Neo-Paganism, she suggests, have much in common, with an emphasis on direct experience, working in harmony with the cyclical nature of our bodies and the seasons, and our interconnectedness. 


Final thoughts

How might yoga look in the near future? Knowing that modern yoga practices are a creative blend of past and present, like their Neo-Pagan counterparts, doesn’t discredit them; rather it enables us to explore the ideas less dogmatically, telling, to paraphrase Simpson, new stories that we need now. There is no right path to this goal. As we confront the painful reality of colonialism, we will also have to undo some of that syncretism that has happened in the occult (with ideas appropriated from India, but also from Judaism, Egypt, Houdou, Sufism etc) and see how we’ve integrated these beliefs into a capitalistic matrix and changed them—this will involve learning about the histories and traditions of borrowed ideas and recognising where truth meets fiction. Telling new stories to help us in an era of climate crisis and decolonising the occult might come hand-in-hand. Three-fold law, for instance, is a loan from the Hindu concept of Karma; vitally, Gerald Gardner’s understanding of it excludes animals and other beings, as Scientology treated its appropriation of reincarnation. How much of what we are taking is helping us? And how much is simply assimilating into the disenchanted world we live in now? By reading around (including ancient texts and modern thought), working with multiple teachers, and not religiously following one school of thought, we might reach an understanding more in fitting with what a long line of occultists and yogis have sought: a focus on honing our own intuition so that we might have direct experience with the higher mysteries, rather than lose that to groupthink and organised religion. In turn, we might be able to unwind some of the Cartesian thought that have become enmeshed with magical thinking, and find something sacred and something shared.

In 2022 Elizabeth will be offering accessible yoga classes anchored in yoga philosophy. Sign up to her newsletter to receive updates and read her blog.

What We Are Reading

As the leaves fall, we find ourselves turning inwards and reading more and more. We usually post a few Most Anticipated Lists each year but this year we thought we’d focus less on what we’re excited about, and more on what we’ve read recently and loved. Some of these titles are new, some have been around for a long time. All connected with us enough that we want to share. 

Beth Ward, regular contributor:

White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi

White is for Witching was published in 2009, so I'm a bit late to this incredible novel, but as soon as I cracked its spine, it felt like I'd slipped into a kind of elsewhere place, somewhere near and familiar, but clouded over with an unshakeable sense of foreboding. 

In White is for Witching, Oyeyemi tells the eerie tale of the Silver family, who live in a grand, yet grotesque home in Dover, England. It's a story about being haunted, by the ghosts of our family legacies, by our own personal traumas -- and about the landscapes that play host to those hauntings. It calls to mind the dark psychologies of Shirley Jackson, the Gothic atmospheres and internal paranoias conjured by Daphne du Maurier -- and I adored it. 


White Magic by Elissa Washuta

This essay collection, from Indigenous author Elissa Washuta, sits at the intersection of trauma, witchcraft, and art. And it takes an exacting look at the ways in which white colonial legacies have wreaked havoc on Indigenous bodies, spiritualities, and communities in the United States.

White Magic's stunning prose, which does not make for comfortable reading, covers such topics as Tarot and Twin Peaks, heartbreak and Fleetwood Mac, but the essays are also about Washuta's attempts to hold on to her own magic, despite colonial attempts to capitalize on it. It is also very much a book about place, and the ways in which place acts as a transmogrifier of experience. Washuta writes from the center of her own pain much of the time, and the essays feel like traveling through fun house mirrors or time portals, its structure broken up into three acts, Act 1: Ace of Cups. The Devil. Death; Act II: Four of Cups. Ten of Swords. The Tower; Act III: The Magician, The Empress, The World. 

It is a beautiful, visceral book. 

Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times by Katherine May

Katherine May most certainly did not write a "witchcraft" book. Her memoir Wintering isn't a book about casting spells or working with crystals at all. What May did write a book about was learning how to fully embrace the cycles of the seasons -- the seasons of the natural world, and our own private seasons. She writes about honoring the dark part of the year, the shadow and the cold, and all of the magic, lessons, and mysteries that can be found there. We learn in Wintering the surprising beauty that can be found in rest, retreat, and going to ground as the light of the year wanes. 

In Wintering, May shares stories of visiting Stonehenge and learning to understand how ritualizing the turning of the year, the returning of the light, can help us ground and heal. She writes of her trip to Tromsø, staying with the Sámi people who still follow a polytheistic, animist spirituality that keeps them deeply connected to the rhythms of nature. It's not explicitly witchcraft, but it feels deeply connected to the ideas around which many people's craft is based. It is also a warm hug of a book, enchanting, comforting -- the perfect cold weather read. 



Yas Floyer, Staff Writer and Book Club Editor:

The Birds and Other Stories by Daphne du Maurier 

This chilling short story collection is one that I return to time and time again with tales that border on fantasy / science-fi. My favourites include The Apple Tree which tells the story of a murdered wife whose spirit is thought to live within an apple tree, and The Birds, which inspired Hitchcock’s movie by the same name involving a town set upon by a flock of birds. Each story is haunting in its own way.


Mrs Death Misses Death by Salena Godden

Shortlisted for The Gordon Burn Prize, this debut novel by poet and writer Salena Godden focuses on Death’s life story as she dictates her memoir to Wolf, a troubled writer touched by Death early in his life. The narrative is beautifully lyrical and the books opens by confronting the idea of death head on, looking at our fears and how fleeting life is. Far from a cloaked figured personified as a man, Death is an old black women, exhausted from an eternity doing her work. As she unburdens herself, an unlikely friendship develops.

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke

By the writer who gave us Johnathan Strange and Mr Norrell, recipient of the Women’s Fiction Prize, Pirenesi is a fantasy novel that follows our eponymous protagonist as he navigates his way through a vast labyrinth of halls and meandering corridors, which we come to learn has a set of rules of it’s own. With many twists and turns and elements of gothic, this novel is beautifully written featuring one of the most endearing characters I have met.




Eva Clifford, Associate Editor:

Right of Bright Water by Gavin Maxwell

Ring of Bright Water is about Gavin Maxwell’s life in an isolated house in the Scottish Highlands and the animals he encounters and cares for. Having recently moved to Scotland, I decided to read this after having seen the film as a kid and it was mostly as enchanting as I remember: I loved following Mij and Edal (Maxwell’s pet otters) into the rock pools, streams and coves around Camusfearna, and escaping to the remoteness of Maxwell’s world. I found the first section of the book slow-moving, but it improves once the otters are introduced. Through their adventures it’s as if we’re taken into a whole other world that would largely be overlooked by humans – the minutiae of nature and the traces of other animals in the landscape which suddenly become visible to us. There are parts of the wild life where we cannot follow, however, like when Mij dives beneath the surface of the ocean or disappears for hours on end.

Some parts of this book are laugh-out-loud funny - but the humour is often in the absurdity of the animals in man-made spaces. And as much as it is funny, it does raise serious questions about the domestication of wild animals. Although there are parts that are particularly disturbing to read, like the ordeal of transporting the otters from Iraq to Scotland – which would surely be illegal today – it’s important to remember this book was written in the late 1950s when the trade of wild animals was legal and accepted. Overall I recommend this book to anyone seeking an escape into the natural world - especially if you love otters.



Elizabeth Kim, editor:

The Opposite of Butterfly Hunting: The Tragedy and the Beauty of Growing Up by Evanna Lynch

Wow. I didn’t expect this memoir about Evanna Lynch’s recovery from anorexia to by magical, but it is. The actress and activist recalls her painful transition from girlhood to womanhood, sowing the seeds of her dreams, being cast in the Harry Potter series as Luna Lovegood, and what came next for her. Despite the extraordinary highs and lows, her honest account is deeply relatable. So many of us have experienced low self worth, mental illness, as well as the related stigma and the feeling that mental health treatment has a long way to go. A trigger warning: I am all too familiar with this particular mental illness, and in case you are too, it did take me to some dark places. But ultimately Lynch shines a light on the shadows, re-frames them, and shows how the same traits that fuelled her anorexia can be better channelled into creativity. Crucially, Lynch gets to the existential core of the illness long neglected by Western medicine: a feeling that life is intrinsically meaningless and a questioning of why we might consume anything at all. This might sound bleak, and sometimes it is, but in spite of the existential nihilism, we are reminded that there are some golden threads that tie things together, and remarkable people who guide us back to our path. There is a lingering feeling that we live both in a mechanical, empty world, and in an enchanted world where miracles really happen; we can decide which lens to commit to. This is recommended reading for all therapists, doctors, or anyone curious about what the deeper aspect this notoriously misunderstood condition. Lynch reminds us to be courageous—we can choose to let our inner fires burn us up, or use them to forge something that feels deeply meaningful. 


With The End in Mind: Dying, Death, and Wisdom in the Age of Denial  by Kathryn Mannix 


Death is one of our greatest taboos. People still edge around the topic, talking about “recovery” and “getting better” even when in the thrum of terminal illness. I have never been scared of death but I have been scared of the pain of dying, and even more so, the pain of loss. I am curious about what happens in the final days, and what consciousness feels like as it knows that the end is near (one day we’ll all get there, but for now we can read about it!). Mannix drew from 30 years of experience practising palliative care, weaving these stories about individuals nearing the end of the lives, and including, with refreshing honesty, their deaths. They are fictionalised but each story is a tapestry of real people who Mannix met and cared for; these are stories with universal and mythical resonance. Reading it I realised the end of life, like birth, can be quite beautiful and poignant, albeit terribly sad, if we fully show up for those we love nearing the end.


When We Cease to Understand the World by Benjamin Labatut

This autumn I have been going through a bit of a fiction reading lull. This strange, quasi non-fiction novel broke it. The novel is the first from Chilean writer Benjamin Labatut, shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize, and as Mark Haddon says on the blurb, it’s like Labatut has created a new genre. Tracing the history of several modern physicists and their discoveries, Labatut conveys their brilliance, as well as their madness and desperation at the dystopian reality they had a part in creating. It conveys the proximity of science to mysticism, how both rely on stepping into the darkness, and how little of the world we really understand. It evokes the same Promethean terror as Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. There is the lingering sense that we are already in the grasp of a giant, cultural black hole. Writes Labatut: 

“We can pull atoms apart, peer back at the first light and predict the end of the universe with just a handful of equations, squiggly lines and arcane symbols that normal people cannot fathom, even though they hold sway over their lives. But it's not just regular folks; even scientists no longer comprehend the world. Take quantum mechanics, the crown jewel of our species, the most accurate, far-ranging and beautiful of all our physical theories. It lies behind the supremacy of our smartphones, behind the Internet, behind the coming promise of godlike computing power. It has completely reshaped our world. We know how to use it, it works as if by some strange miracle, and yet there is not a human soul, alive or dead, who actually gets it. The mind cannot come to grips with its paradoxes and contradictions. It's as if the theory had fallen to earth from another planet, and we simply scamper around it like apes, toying and playing with it, but with no true understanding.”









November Book Club: The Shadow by Edith Nesbit

Source: Unsplash

Source: Unsplash

Grab a drink, bring some nibbles and join us for a spooky themed book club where we’ll be talking about Edith Nesbit’s horror short story, “The Shadow”. This unsettling tale deals with the dangers of telling a ghost story after the excitement of a ball. The book club will be held via Zoom on Thursday 11th November from 7 pm - 8.30 pm, hosted by our friends at Libreria Bookshop. There will be some time at the end to share real life ghost stories of your own…

Our friends at Handheld Press are kindly offering readers 10% on their fantastic collection of stories encompassing supernatural, horror, science fiction, fantasy and the Gothic titled Women’s Weird, Strange Stories by Women, 1890 -1940 edited by Melissa Edmundson, from which our story is taken. Purchase the book via the Handheld Press online shop and enter code ‘EDITH’ at checkout. 

As Handheld Press has kindly made the story available to us digitally, a copy of the pdf will be sent to you following booking. Otherwise, to reserve your free ticket, please email us at cunningfolkmagazine@gmail.com, with ‘Cunning Folk Book Club’ in the subject line. This will be a free event, though donations are welcome and will help us keep this going. Donations are accepted via our Paypal (cunningfolkmagazine@gmail.com). Alternatively, sign up to our Patreon to support us longer term.