The surest sign, to my mind, that we are experiencing a renaissance of Western esotericism is in the verdant flourishing of occult art. From the music of Hawthonn to the visual art of Glyn Smyth, to name just two among many brilliant artists, the quality of esoteric artistic output is surging. This is as vital to the movement as the grimoire revival and serious research into our magical heritage. The two are not disconnected. Indeed, independent occult publishers have supported this flourishing by commissioning illustrators and, in the past few years, releasing volumes of poetry and fiction alongside non-fiction texts.
The newly founded Nemglan Press is dedicated to this very endeavour. Their focus is, refreshingly, on fictive prose and poetry as a means of engaging imaginatively with the occult. This is not to create a false distinction between works of occult fiction and non-fiction, but rather to highlight the power of storytelling and poetry in inspiring gnosis. Their first Black Chapbook, Our Failing Shadows by Alexander Menid, has just been released and may be freely read in its entirety here.
I was fortunate to receive an early printed copy of the chapbook, and can confirm that those who prefer ink on paper will have much to look forward to in Nemglan’s future print editions. A great deal of care and attention has gone into the design and presentation of this work, which is both minimalist and evocative. The text is accompanied by sigils, echoing the poems in layers of symbolism drawing on a variety of spiritual traditions. They are well worth studying alongside the poetry itself.
Our Failing Shadows is a twilight text, best read at dusk or dawn. Indeed, many of the poems call on themes of liminality, the unseen and the shadowy presence of the dead within the land. Few spirits are named, and those that are not draw power from their ambiguity. The poems vary in voice and style, some are invocatory, others bold statements of identity from the otherworld. The spirits are called and given a voice, and sometimes that voice whispers things uncomfortable to hear. The poet engages with concepts of sin, both religious and ecological. ‘Anticosmic’ and ‘A Curse (for Humankind)’ confront us with the fact that however much we other ourselves, we cannot escape our humanity.
My personal favourites in the collection were ‘A Folk-Song for Midsummer’ – which begs to be set to music, ‘The Spirit-Ways’ – which engages the sort of ancestral memory we sometimes experience when walking old roads, and ‘The Watcher’ – an antidote perhaps to the sins explored in other pages.
For those who do not reach for poetry automatically, rest assured that you will find this work both engaging and eerily familiar. It draws in form and style on ancient hymns, spells, psalms, charms and folk music. It is also a text that can be worked, including invocations to spirits and even a solitary rite, with full instructions. This is not a passive book about someone else’s spiritual experience, but one which the reader too may become involved in.
This is an exciting start for Nemglan Press and I eagerly anticipate the next in their Black chapbook series. The only challenge I perceive ahead for them is to match the quality of this first volume.