One of the most famous books on the occult ever written, this is a record of Crowley’s journey into strange regions of consciousness: his initiation into magic, his world-wide travels and mistresses, his experiments with sex and drugs, and the philosophy of his famous Book of the Law. A 20th. Century occult classic. The Confessions of Aleister Crowley : An Autohagiography, by Aleister Crowley (1875-1947), is a book written in six parts, the first two parts published in 1929. It is subtitled “An Autohagiography” which refers to the autobiography of a Saint, a title which Crowley would also have associated with the Plymouth Brethren, who use it to refer to themselves. Crowley was brought up as one of their members
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 found 3 editions of this in the GoodReads database - 1 of the others calls it an "autobiography" & one just calls it "The Confessions of Aleister Crowley". "Autohagiography" means "autobiography of a saint" so reducing that to a mere "autobiography" is completely out of the spirit of the bk. I was tempted to create a new bookshelf here esp in this bk's honor: "megalomania" - but that's too easy a shot. Crowley was far from stupid & there's plenty of humor in his writings. &, besides, I read all, what was it?, 1300 pages?, of this so there was plenty in it to keep my attn.
This is another example of something non-fiction that I read a long time ago that I still remember substantial details from - once again demonstrating that I sortof escape into fictional worlds & then forget them but I remember things that somehow resonate more w/ 'real life'.
Crowley had inherited wealth & lived it up as a result - gradually living the high life less & less as the money ran out & he had no self-support skills other than parasitism to pull him thru - a not-too-atypical trajectory of the rich-&-useless. Reading his description of his early yrs as a failed mountain climber are (apparently unintentionally) a hilarious look at the imbecilic egomania of British aristocrats. Crowley's full of self-praise & then ridicules the sherpas who're assisting him. W/ apparently no self-irony he writes about how one of the sherpas wdn't've died if they'd only listened to his great genius & wisdom. Somehow it doesn't seem to've occurred to him that maybe if he'd carried his own voluminous luggage & slept outside, like the sherpas did, instead of climbing in relative luxury & sleeping in a heated tent, he might not have survived the trip either.
Later one gets to read about Crowley's being the greatest poet of the turn of the century. Funny, he seems like a complete hack to me. Of course, Crowley's reknowned for doing things like leaving piles of cocaine around to prove that he can refrain from using such things if need be. Then he died a heroin addict. Nice try, Aleister. In later yrs, he was in the US before &/or during WWII & connected to a German society connected w/ nazism. His claim? That he was a spy for the Brits. Somehow, I'm not convinced.
Still, don't get me wrong. I like Crowley. I've read quite a few of his bks. I wonder if he was really as insufferable a megalomaniac in person as he comes across here. In a bk of mine I reference this as "pompous blatherings" but at least Crowley didn't lead a dull life.
I may come back to this one... For someone who's usually rather witty and interesting, this sucked. I felt like someone trapped in an elevator with a pompous gasbag relating his adventures in one of the Boer Wars. I don't give a crap about mountaineering in the early 1900's. It also didn't help that the copy I had was given to me out of the bookstore trash years ago. As I read a page, it came right out of the book. There's a moldering pile on my nightstand now. Supposedly, he wrote it while on opium or heroin which the forward's author admits made him overly talkative. Not knowing much about either drug, that seems opposite what I'd expect. The best may be yet to come, so I'll give it another chance someday. For now, I'll dig into his book on yoga...
I started reading this book a bit over a year ago as I'd seen it sat on my mum's shelves for years and always wondered what it was like. Today I finally finished it. The fact it took me, a pretty quick and voracious reader, over a year says a lot. For a man who had what is on paper an interesting life, this is a terrifically slow and boring read. Much of the book details his mountaineering adventures as a young man, which whilst potentially interesting if you're into mountaineering hardly live up to the promise of the sensationalist title. The story of his life is in fact quite interesting when it finally gets to his interest in the occult and wider travels, but the book is written in such a pompous and self-aggrandising manner that it makes it difficult to distinguish between fact and self-promotion. I think if you're interested in the life of Crowley then you'd be probably be better served by one of his other biographers, this one is for real obsessives only.
My understanding is that there is an unexpurgated version of this out or coming out. This is a long but exciting and exotic read. Crowley is someone too often typified by the bad press he receieved. This, along with other books that he wrote, secures his reputation as a brilliant synthesist of spiritual paths, mountain climber, prankster, popularizer of sex yoga and so much more. The writing is crisp and filled with humorous observations. Find out what made Uncle Al the "wickedest man in the world."
This was a well written and interesting account of the life of a very strange yet fascinating individual. If Crowley were alive today, it would be interesting to discover if his lifestyle and ideas would come across as acceptable and normal. Though he was an extremely athletic and intellectual individual, one who may have been on the verge of some fantastic spiritual goals and magical discoveries, he never did quite reach those goals. Although some have labeled him 666 and the Beast, he didn't come accross as being all that beastly. However, he did strike me as slightly insane, eccentric, and very narcissistic and self absorbed. He had the ability to drift off into areas where most people don't have the time nor the money to venture, making the reading of his lifestyle difficult to relate to. The book dragged on in places. I found his mountain climbing antics to be fascinating, yet stretched and drawn out, making the story flow very sluggish in places. He was way out there, an extremely bizarre person. That in itself made for an interesting read. Strange people are fascinating.
For a glimpse into Victorian England (and China, and America, and every other place he visited in his travels) this is the tome to read. It's heavy, several inches thick, but offers a view into a world that most people never see.
Crowley was a prolific writer who eschewed moral and social mores that his peers took for granted, and as you read his account it becomes obvious that he was insane. Regardless, in his chosen realm, no single individual had a greater impact on the western mystical traditions than this mountain climbing, poetry writing, chess playing, philandering opiate addict.
Very old so can be bought quite cheaply…. What a long read It’s taken me months! I have 180 notes and highlights for the 937 pages. The book was a mixture of boring and over my head, interesting and provocative. It’s hard not to pay attention when he’s describing Yeats as “lank” and “dishevelled”, or his process and results when he aimed to achieve invisibility… I’m not sure what I think of him after reading all that. He is supremely arrogant and pretentious, annoying and quite boring. But despite my personal antipathy towards the man there is something which seems quite new about his works. Perhaps he is (in his own words) the first magus to be made for quite a while
(comments on religion) The fundamental weakness of Buddhism is that it fails to atain the indifference of Lao-Tzu. Buddha wails for Nibbana as the sole refuge from sorrow; Lao-Tzu despises sorrow as casually as he despises happiness and is content to react equably to every possible impression. … The Buddha took the last logical step, rejected Brahman as a mere meta- physical tigment and replaced the idea of union with him by that of absorp- tion in Nibbana, a state of cessation pure and simple. This is certainly a step forward; but it still throws no light on the subject of how things came to be such that only cessation can relieve their intolerable sorrow; though it is clear enough that the nature of any separate existence must be imperfection. The Buddha impudently postulates `Mara` as the maker ofthe whole illusion, without attempting to assign a motive for his malice or a means by which he could gratify it, Incidentally, his `existence in itself ’ is the whole ofthe evil Mara, which is just as impertinent a postulate as any ofthe uncreated creators and uncaused causes of other religions. Buddhism does not destroy the philo- sophical dilemma. Buddhals statement that the fundamental error is ignorance is as arbitrary, aher all, as Milton`s that it was pride, Either quality implies a host of others, all equally inconceivable as arising in a homogeneous state either of bliss or nonentity.
(supreme arrogance) He bore on his body the three most important distinguishing marks of a Buddha. He was tongue-tied, and on the second day of his incarnation a surgeon cut the fraenum linguae. He had also the characteristic membrane, which necessitated an operation for phimosis SOITIC three lustres later.” Lastly, he had upon the centre of his heart four hairs curling from left to right in the exact form of a Swastika. … The Patriot Bottomley is in error, I pray that he may pardon me if I indicate it. It is his kindness to me which seeks to Hatter me unduly when he says that l took honours from Cambridge. Posterity will understand, on the contrary, that Cambridge has taken fresh honours from me. Nay, Patriot though thou be, Horatio, it is human to err. Homer and Jupiter have been known to nod. The Patriot Bottomley makes a worthy third to these. But I did not even take the poll degree at Cambridge. I am an undergraduate of Trinity College. But I am a life member of that college; so much so, that when the junior Dean attempted to prevent me from exercising my right to walk into its courts, I confronted him at the door of the chapel and called him a coward and a liar to his face. To rebuke the authorities of one’s college is a distasteful duty; one too often imposed upon the modern undergraduate. But there is in me Roman virtue and I never shrink from a moral obligation. … It was given me during these days to experience fully once more every incident in my initiation, so that I might describe them while still white-hot with their wonder. It is this that assures me that this [my] poem is unique of its kind. Its only rival is the Bhagavad—Gita, which, despite its prolixity, confines its ardour to Vishvarupa-darshana.
(complete misogyny even whilst claiming to be feminist) Women, like all moral inferiors, behave well only when treated with firmness, kindness and justice. They are always on the look—out to detect wavering or irritation in the master; and their one hope is to have a genuine grievance to hug. When trouble is not suppressed permanently by a little friendly punishment, it is a sign that the virtue has gone out of the master. When the suffragette went from worse to worse and made severity itself inhuman and useless, it did not prove in the least that woman had altered from the days of the jungle, but that industrialism and piety had sapped the virtue of the male. Rome did not fall because the Germans and the Gauls had in any way improved; they were just the same and could be beaten by the same tactics and weapons as in the earliest centuries. But Christianity had eaten the heart out of Rome. The manly virtues and the corresponding womanly virtues, one of which is recognition of the relation between the sexes, had been corrupted by slave morality.
(In agreement with Nietzsche and (in my opinion) objectivism) There is no need to develop the ethics of Thelema in detail, for everything springs with absolute logic from the singular principle, `Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Iaw.` Or, to put it another way, 'There is no law beyond Do what thou wilt.° And, `Thou hast no right but to do thy will… We have a sentimental idea of self-sacrifice, the kind which is most esteemed by the vulgar and is the essence of popular Christianity. lt is the sacrifice of the strong to the weak. This is wholly against the principles of evolution. Any nation which does this systematically on a sufficiently large scale, simply destroys itself The sacrifice is in vain; the weak are not even saved… But when security became general through the operation of altruism the most degenerate of the people were often the offspring of the strongest. The Book of the Law regards pity as despicable. The reason is partly indicated in the above paragraph. But further, to pity another man is to insult him. He also is a star, ‘one, individual and eternal`.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Ungainly, unfinished, unsatisfying as a biography of Crowley, I could continue listing this book's faults for the entire review, and yet - and yet, while sections of this book are achingly prosaic and dull, 4 stars worth of it is fantastic.
Why? Because Crowley himself is such a phenomenon. Even though at times you think you can see the cracks in his ego, his actual accomplishments (literary and adventurous) are marvels to behold, and beholding them is easy through the glimmers of Crowley's self-aggrandisement.
He climbs mountains, writes books, seduces women, founds religions - all in a day's work. He won't exactly tell you how to do it (Book IV is the how-to), and it never gets remotely as interesting once the bit about his childhood is over (as with all autobiographies), and - even though he promises not to - he wastes thousands of words on interminably boring hunting stories, Crowley is nonetheless a born entertainer.
I don't buy it. Any of it. I don't particularly find discussions of the occult even mildly interesting.
But.
Crowley may be one of the most powerful wielders of the English language ever to live.
If you are into the esoteric, I would suppose, this takes on a whole new meaning.
If not... you still have to appreciate the guy. His claims and proclamations may make him quite a strange phenomenon - but his prose is so moving you can't simply dismiss him.
Consider gems like "The Universe is the practical joke of the general at the expense of the particular."
I take all his claims and statements with a few buckets of salt. But the guy can turn phrases like no one else I've read.
A bit of a trudge but worth it if you find the old goat entertaining and informative, which I do. He is a long winded braggart endlessly defending himself from detractors and slinging abuse and ridicule as he professes his attainment of spiritual equilibrium. A perfect paradox for the 20th century. In this new century that he only dreamed of, many of his ideas and practices are commonplace and have brought the world closer through spiritual pursuits that weren’t adherent to corrupt institutional churches that suppressed many of the practices of the past in order to seize power over an uninformed and compliant congregation. He likes to talk about his poetry because hardly anyone else did, but he does not really talk in detail about his magickal work, nor did he append the volume to include his final years, but if you want to have the voice of this original thinker in your mind, this is a valuable source worth scrutiny.
It's a long book. It's never taken me this long to finish a book, and although some references flew over my head or seemed challenging at times, he's a great writer, especially if you're interested in Crowley. You get to see the complex character's different sides and adventures from travels and mountain-climbing to indulgent thoughts and other crazy stories. It also works as account of how life, people and societies were back in the late 1800's and early 1900's. I do wish there was more parts about his occult ventures and rituals, as well as more of what went on in the Abbey of Thelema. If you're curious about this strange individual, read it.
This is an interesting but very disturbing book about this strange man who is renowned as a master of the occult who called himself the Beast and amended the spelling of his name to ensure its numerology value was 666. He was known as a drug fiend and the most wicked man alive during his day. He is in my opinion along with de Sade among the most enigmatic and very strange authors and thinkers.
This is an excellent and we written book about this mans very strange life and the impact he has had on the world we know, and sometimes the shadowy world we do not know about.
This is a large book and when I read it I thought this will take some time I hope it isn't boring! Boy was I wrong before I know it I am right there with Aleister going through all his exploits and many are the times I said to myself I've done that, I've done that, I been there, what's up? we have so much in common, no wonder I have always been attracted to this man and his work.!!! If you want to know the man then read this book. It's a blast, you won't regret it.
For such a wicked, bloated "beast" Mr Crowley can nevertheless pack one heck of a wallop on the page. His descriptions of early school days and forays into magicks and the ever-tantalizing beat of his guardian angel's wings are written in such smooth constructions that one almost can forget the page-long paragraphs. They float. The section on his Everest efforts alone is worth cracking open this tome.
Having spent an inordinate amout of time with the "Hag" (as AC was fond of calling it) I can say that this ranks as one of Crowley’s more challenging written works. This opinion is bolstered by the fact that prior to the new printing, due out sometime next year, the work had been butchered by Symonds and Grant (hence the rather low rating I give it here).
I think every so-called Crowley fan or Thelemite or whatever should be forced to read this book from start to finish. It very effectively dispells many memes and confused gossop about Crowley which seems to travel around.
OK, I never actually finished this, and the five stars are not, certainly, for honesty or clarity, but simply for the fact that Crowley was one of the greatest stylists of the English language. A son of a bitch, a charlatan, a pervert, perhaps a mystical genius (unlikely), man, could he write.
no drugs, no sex, very little magic. mainly mountaineering, numerology, cabbala, critical analysis of his own poetry and writings. glosses over all the juicy stuff which says something about the man.
TLDR version - Too many archaic long words , old fashioned style of writing and self indulgent poetry stops his wild life story being enjoyable to read.
Long review -
Having not heard of a "auto hagiography" before or since , and having to look up the term , should of been a warning of what was in store for me. Only 2 stars as I could not finish it. I did about half and gave up. This book should SUPER CRAZY interesting , been as its about Crowley , who lead such a crazy life , especially as he was born pre Victorian times, he did the whole "sex drugs n commune " lifestyle well before the hippies of the 60s parents were even born. I suppose anyone reading the Crowley pages already knows his story of a strict religious upbringing, which he rebelled against , and after getting into the occult and secret society's and magic groups at Uni, eventually styled himself as "The Great Beast 666" , made his own religion , started a commune/abbey/cult on a Greek island , took a lot of drugs and had a lot of orgys and an all round jolly good time. Fascinating life story .
What stops it been as enjoyable for me personally is Crowley , who in showing off his excellent education , writes in a a style that is hard work to read , for me at least. Because of the time it was written in it's full of over long archaic words and indecipherable sentences, oh and he lapses into long bouts of poetry on a whim too...... ... Yes, it's just too hard going for me unfortunately. Not easy to digest for the modern reader at all. I'm cool with some classic books , so I'm not a stranger to some old fashioned ways of speaking , but his Oxford educated big words and poetry is too olde worlde , too archaic and just too dammed hard going for me .
I have downloaded a modern autobiography of his life instead, and looking forward to getting into that once I'm done with the 4 books currently on the go.
( I'm in UK and it's just been announced that we are having another months national lockdown , essential shops n travel only, so on the bright side I will have plenty time to do lots of reading,)
Not an easy read but if you can accept the relentless egomania Crowley is both an entertaining and funny host. I bought a copy of the book in the 80's and I've been dipping in ever since although I dont believe a single written word . The man is still a complete mystery to me but what an incredible constitution he had .....apparently.
It's been years since I actually read it, but like any biography should, it offers a decent insight into the character and life of the almost legendary figure himself.