First published c. 1904 in France, Snowdrops from a Curate’s Garden is a hilarious and remarkably inventive collection of erotic prose and verse written by the influential libertine-mystic and magician Aleister Crowley. Sections of prose and verse are unified through a biographical frame narrative attributing them to a single author-poet-perpetrator. The first section, The Nameless Novel, was written primarily to amuse Crowley’s convalescing wife, Rose Kelly. A scatological parody of erotic literature, it takes aim at the usual targets of libertine fiction and modern erotica but, at the same time, lampoons their (libertine fiction and erotica’s) limitations and conventions through absurdity and hyperbole. The verse sections, which include black parodies of notable Victorian poets such as Robert Browning and Algernon Charles Swinburne, were added to extend the literary forms in Crowley’s earlier erotic work, White Stains (1898), which is also available from Birchgrove Press.
Aleister Crowley was an English occultist, ceremonial magician, poet, novelist, mountaineer, and painter. He founded the religion of Thelema, proclaiming himself as the prophet destined to guide humanity into the Æon of Horus in the early 20th century. A prolific writer, Crowley published extensively throughout his life. Born Edward Alexander Crowley in Royal Leamington Spa, Warwickshire, he was raised in a wealthy family adhering to the fundamentalist Christian Plymouth Brethren faith. Crowley rejected his religious upbringing, developing an interest in Western esotericism. He attended Trinity College, Cambridge, focusing on mountaineering and poetry, and published several works during this period. In 1898, he joined the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, receiving training in ceremonial magic from Samuel Liddell MacGregor Mathers and Allan Bennett. His travels took him to Mexico for mountaineering with Oscar Eckenstein and to India, where he studied Hindu and Buddhist practices. In 1904, during a honeymoon in Cairo with his wife Rose Edith Kelly, Crowley claimed to have received "The Book of the Law" from a supernatural entity named Aiwass. This text became the foundation of Thelema, announcing the onset of the Æon of Horus and introducing the central tenet: "Do what thou wilt." Crowley emphasized that individuals should align with their True Will through ceremonial magic. After an unsuccessful expedition to Kanchenjunga in 1905 and further travels in India and China, Crowley returned to Britain. There, he co-founded the esoteric order A∴A∴ with George Cecil Jones in 1907 to promote Thelema. In 1912, he joined the Ordo Templi Orientis (O.T.O.), eventually leading its British branch and reformulating it according to Thelemic principles. Crowley spent World War I in the United States, engaging in painting and writing pro-German propaganda, which biographers later suggested was a cover for British intelligence activities. In 1920, Crowley established the Abbey of Thelema, a religious commune in Cefalù, Sicily. His libertine lifestyle attracted negative attention from the British press, leading to his expulsion by the Italian government in 1923. He spent subsequent years in France, Germany, and England, continuing to promote Thelema until his death in 1947. Crowley's notoriety stemmed from his recreational drug use, bisexuality, and criticism of societal norms. Despite controversy, he significantly influenced Western esotericism and the 1960s counterculture, and remains a central figure in Thelema.
I don't think I can really rate this; it feels beyond numerical values. I have to credit the two friends who sat through my reading of a page and a third of this - that was about all they could handle and probably what anyone else at the beach who overheard us could.
Other than being 101 ways to say penis and vagina, there's a certain perverse enjoyment to parts of this, and general depraved sickness at the rest. Parts of this reminded me of the parts of Marquis De Sade's 'The 120 Days of Sodom' that I've read; yet these felt somehow written with even more glee.
I think my favourite parts were the poems, limericks, and verse in the latter half instead of the untitled novel telling the tales of the Archbishop. They became a little repetitive. A lot of the book did, which is probably my biggest complaint - quite something to say. There's only so much piss and shit and farting and sexual diseases I can read about without general boredom and eyerolling at the juvenile dullness to it all. The poems are best in isolation, bought out at parties to make your mates worry about what it is you're reading.
A collection of vulgar short stories. As a historical piece, it’s fascinating to see modern/contemporary humor from the Victorian age. I didn’t find anything particularly funny and a lot seemed to be vulgar for the sake of vulgarity so I can’t really recommend it. Absolutely read about Crowley though, he’s a specimen.
One of the greatest works of erotica that deliberately goes over the top, in the manner of those exaggerated pieces of art displaying all possible (and impossible) manners of sexual congress. Deserves to be on the shelf next to Apollinaire's "11,000 Rods."