The End of Magic

The End of Magic

104 Book Reviews technical or at least obscure terms such as ‘me’, apparently an item of clothing, which are introduced without explanation. Some fo...

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104

Book Reviews

technical or at least obscure terms such as ‘me’, apparently an item of clothing, which are introduced without explanation. Some form of glossary would have helped considerably. TREVOR CURNOW St. Martin’s College, Lancaster doi:10.1006/reli.1999.0225, available online at http://www.idealibrary.com on

Ariel Glucklich, The End of Magic. New York, Oxford University Press, 1997, viii +253 pp., r50, £37.99 (hardback) ISBN 0 195 10879 5, r19.95, £14.99 (paperback) ISBN 0 195 10880 9. This book is not really about the end of magic: ‘The title announces the end of magic, but only as a phenomenon defined by well-enshrined prejudices’ (p. viii). What Glucklich claims is that the book signals the end of the wrong understanding of magic, with its replacement by his own correct understanding. It is scarcely a modest claim, and the author will scarcely be surprised if not everyone is in agreement with him. The book has three elements. First, it is a useful overview of earlier and existing approaches to the problem of magic. The theories of Freud, Jung, Frazer, Malinowski and Tambiah, among others, are given a critical airing, and worked through in a systematic way. Second, the book is a collection of materials of a case-study nature. Most of these derive from the author’s own experiences in Varanasi, although some are taken from the works of others. Third, the book is an attempt to develop a new understanding of the nature of magic as a phenomenon in its own right without reducing it to, or confusing it with, something else. It is on this element that the book ultimately stands or falls. In his conclusion Glucklich summarises his position thus: ‘Magic is the sensory  2000 Academic Press

experience of interrelatedness that emerges when individuals develop a unique intimacy with natural and social environments. Magical events are often experienced as extraordinary, and even occult, phenomena. But reports of such experiences are neither mystical nor strictly religious. They combine the mundane practicality of a noisy street with a lofty sense of belonging to an intimate world’ (p. 235). Time and again he emphasises his central point, that the essence of magic is a kind of experience. He identifies four elements which come together to compose and generate a magical event. First, there is a heightened form of perception, which is attuned to relationships rather than discrete objects. Second, there is a diminished sense of self. Third, the thinker or perceiver has a sense of engagement with events rather than a sense of detachment from them. Finally, there is a ritual dimension, the purpose of which seems to be to assist the other elements to manifest themselves, to encourage the desired type of experience. Apart from the element of ritual, the magical experience bears a remarkable resemblance to the kind of ‘peak experience’ described by Abraham Maslow in many of his writings (although Maslow is not mentioned in this book). Furthermore, while Glucklich is keen to maintain a distinction between the magical and the mystical, the kind of experience he characterises (this time including the ritual element) might well be thought to resemble the latter as much as, if not rather more than, the former. There appear to be strong resemblances to nature mysticism in particular. These similarities suggest that Glucklich’s argument faces some serious problems. In his effort to get away from an understanding of magic as a particular kind of act, he seems to have done what he accuses others of doing, namely, confusing magic with, or reducing it to, something else. Can the argument be rescued? I think not. The principal problem seems

Book Reviews to be that, along with those whom he criticises, Glucklich ultimately takes a one-dimensional approach to magic. It may well be that there is an essential experiential dimension to magic, but that claim does not justify the conclusion that that is all there is to it. The review of earlier approaches to magic reveals, if nothing else, that there are many dimensions associated with it, and different theorists have seized upon different ones as the key. Perhaps, then, the phenomenon is so irreducibly complex that an exclusive focus on any one aspect of it is bound to lead to distortion and misunderstanding. While it may be necessary to bring the experiential dimension clearly into the picture, it does not appear to be sufficient to explain and encapsulate the whole phenomenon. Since the central argument of the book fails to be convincing, the book as a whole is limited in its appeal and value. The case studies have some interest in their own right, irrespective of their contribution to the argument. There are some genuine and enjoyable insights into everyday life in Varanasi, whatever their relevance to the phenomenon of magic is thought to be. Perhaps it is at a polemical level that the book is most successful. What Glucklich clearly wants is for magic to be taken seriously and not simply dismissed as an aspect of primitivism or as the unique interest of the social anthropologist. His enthusiasm for his topic is clear, and some may find it infectious. If the book provokes a new or expanded interest in the subject, it will have achieved at least one of its aims. TREVOR CURNOW St. Martin’s College, Lancaster doi:10.1006/reli.1999.0226, available online at http://www.idealibrary.com on

Bernard McGinn, Visions of the End: Apocalyptic Traditions in the Middle Ages.  2000 Academic Press

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New York, Columbia University Press, 1998, xxvii+390 pp., r17.50, £14.00 (paperback) ISBN 0 231 11257 2. The millennium provides a useful excuse for a new edition of Bernard McGinn’s anthology of readings in apocalyptic thought. No excuse whatever is required for its publication in a paperback edition after nearly twenty years. This second edition contains an additional 10-page preface, and 13 pages of bibliographical supplement, but otherwise it is a straight republication of the original. While apocalyptic studies have advanced in the decades between the two publications, the purpose of the book remains the same. As McGinn explains, ‘The book was designed to fill a gap in scholarship by providing a critical study and anthology of texts of medieval apocalyptic traditions between c. 400 and 1500 A.D., eleven centuries that constitute over half of the entire history of Christian apocalypticism’ (p. xiv). It fulfils its design admirably and now presents in an even more accessible form around 100 original texts, either whole or excerpted, arranged in 35 sections, each with its own introduction. The overall impression conveyed by the texts is one of great variety, and this variety prompts speculation on the criteria used for selection. The pragmatic reasons for the historical criteria are made clear in the original preface. Apocalypticism in Judaism and early Christianity had been relatively intensively studied by the time the first edition of this book appeared in 1979. The modern world did not abandon apocalypticism, but while its onset did not mark a total break with what had gone before, there was nevertheless a noticeable change in outlook. Hence the sense that it was the medieval period which constituted not only ‘a gap’ but also one with its own identity. The criteria for the selection of texts from within the designated period are more problematic. Put simply, what