The Book of the Most Precious Substance is the latest by one of my favorite contemporary writers, Sara Gran. Author of Come Closer and three mysteries featuring San Francisco private eye Claire DeWitt, Gran put this out in 2021 via a publishing company she launched. Describing her experience with Simon & Schuster a "shit show" with her calls unreturned, Gran felt the subject matter of her new novel didn't lend itself to a publisher's editing suggestions either. Even more so than Come Closer, this dark mystery plunges deep into sex and the supernatural. It's also about one of my favorite subjects: books.
The story is the first-person account of Lily Albrecht, a former novelist in her early forties who's introduced at a big annual book sale near Gramercy Park. Lily has carved a niche for herself as a rare bookseller specializing in a bit of everything, as long as it's unique, obscure and profitable. She's approached by a colleague named Shyman who specializes in military history. He inquires if she's ever heard of a book he calls The Precious Substance. Shyman claims to have a client offering six figures for it. Lily bargains for 33% of the sale if she can find this book for him. In less than 24 hours, Shyman is dead, murdered in an apparent mugging.
Lily approaches a customer named Lucas Markson, head of a rare books department at a university in New York City. A handsome bachelor living well off a dwindling annuity, Lucas is as intrigued by this book as Lily. They agree to work together to locate a copy. Lily is married to a once brilliant writer named Abel who after five years of blissful marriage, slipped into dementia and now exists in a catatonic state at their home, a dreary farmhouse in upstate New York with a 24-hour caregiver. A runaway success with her first novel, Lily has lost her creative fire and accepted that whatever good luck she fell into has abandoned her.
Back home, I tried to put The Book of the Most Precious Substance out of my mind and forget about it. My life was here, upstate. It wasn't so bad. People had it worse, that was for sure. I needed money, but chasing after this book was not a particularly wise or logical way to go about getting it.
And Lucas was something I'd avoided for years. I'd developed a kind of resentment of people who were attractive and looked like they had sex and maybe even enjoyed life. There wasn't really any reason I couldn't date. It wasn't like Abel would be jealous. But I was married. I loved my husband. I didn't love anyone else, and I didn't think I ever would. And I wasn't all that interested in facing the potentially ugly landscape of dating in my forties: looks fading away, career now a dirty and demanding one, responsible for a husband who was now a full-time job. I'd had a few sexual and romantic encounters over the years. They were awkward and unskilled and messy and did not encourage me to seek out more.
In the niche of rare booksellers, everyone knows everyone, and Lucas reports that an acquaintance named Leo Singleton, one of the top rare book men in New York, has seen a copy of The Book of the Most Precious Substance. Leo notifies them that the book was handwritten in 1614 by a Dutchman named Hieronymus Zeel. Only three copies are known to exist now, in very private collections. Leo claims the book consists of five chapters detailing five acts that if executed by a man and a woman with the proper fluids, words and seals, culminates with their wishes being granted. The world's leading authority on sex magic, Aleister Crowley, apparently learned everything he knew from the book.
The husband of a New York bookseller Lily knows tells them that each of the steps bring growing levels of power, but the fifth requires blood from a beating human heart. He believes that their buyer is Oswald Johnson Haber III, one of the richest men in New York. Lily and Lucas feel strangely powerful and emboldened simply thinking about this book. Their confidence leads to Haber retaining them to find a copy and make the owner an offer, money being no object. Haber writes them a check for $100,000 but issues a warning not to sell the book to a man he refers to only as The Fool. If they do, he promises to have them killed.
Shyman's notebook lists five parties who Lily and Lucas believe own The Book of the Most Precious Substance or want it. Haber is listed as The Accountant. There's also The Admiral, TG/LA, The Whore and The Prince. Lily and Lucas become lovers and begin completing each of the five steps with world class sex all over the globe. In Los Angeles they meet The Fool, a tech guru who owns an incomplete copy of the book. In Washington D.C. they meet The Admiral, who covets the book. They make a detour to New Orleans to lose whoever's following them. Then Munich and finally Paris to meet The Whore, who no longer owns the book but warns Lily to drop her pursuit of it. While Lucas seems to covet the book to obtain money, Lily has other ideas.
"Magic is like money, or fame, or any other form of power," Arjun said. "It works. It's real. You can get what you want. Whatever you think will make you happy. But the problem always seems to be that most people are wrong about what will make them happy. Most lottery winners are miserable again within two or three years. Most celebrities are on medication to get through the day. Lord knows we know enough of them."
I knew that about lottery winners and celebrities. But I also knew I wasn't like those people. Most of those people weren't where I was, or had been a few weeks ago--broke, alone, loveless, and sexless. And most of them, I guessed, had vague dreams about money and fame; they'd be prettier, more alluring, smarter. I had no delusions. I knew exactly what I wanted from the book.
And I knew, if the book could deliver it, it would make me happy again.
Sara Gran accomplishes in 90,000 words what Anne Rice (RIP) needed 270,000 words to. The Book of the Most Precious Substance is a contemporary, globetrotting mystery about sex and the occult that flows very well. Novelists love writing about novelists and can get obsessed with the minutiae of a suffering writer. Lily Albrecht is relatable. Giving up her writing career could be anything that she loved but couldn't continue. Earning income as a bookseller could be any dirty job. Gran's love for books shines through. Most of the characters Lily encounters love books, whether they're buyers like Lucas, sellers like her friends, or the rich and strange with their own private libraries.
"Come," Paul said. "The books are in the guesthouse."
The kitchen had a back door and we all walked through the messy yard to a small house, about four hundred square feet, at the other end of the property. The small house was locked up well; it took Paul three keys to let us in, and I noticed all the windows were tightly gated.
Inside I saw why: It was a small, pristine, jewel box of a library, maybe five hundred books, each precisely shelved on dark wood bookshelves. In the middle of the room was a desk in the same dark wood with a laptop and stacks of more books on top. A few chairs and a few library carts, also full of books, took up the rest of the room.
The books themselves were extraordinary. Most were in three areas: New Orleansiana; books about books (always the booksellers' favorite); and magic of all kinds: witchcraft, hoodoo, voodoo, tarot, stage magic, and most of all, sex magic. By now I recognized some of the names: Alice Bunker Stockham, Paschal Beverly Randolph.
I like the way that Gran writes about sex. Lily Albrecht isn't hung up about it. She's an adult and Gran trusts that the reader is too. Like dining in the finest restaurants or traveling first class, sex is something Lily treated herself to earlier in her life and was good at, but she's in a different space now and simply doesn't enjoy it, though not for a lack of trying. It's an honest approach to sexual health that's neither tawdry or skittish. While the novel is short on the sort of intrigue or danger I'd expect in an international thriller, Gran foreshadows just enough to suggest something bad is waiting for our narrator. This all kept me invested to the end.