In 1967 a sociology student and acidhead gets involved with a satanic cult. Very much a love letter to the 60's and 60's occultism. If names like Crowley, Wheatley or films like Rosemary's Baby, don't mean anything to you, your probably not going to get the most out of this. Actually maybe some Kerouac, William S.Burroughs etc. wouldn't hurt either.
Some knowledge of 60's music (which i don't have) would also help. This book should really come with a playlist.

The whole thing is done as diary entries which can be a bit limiting. Still, i thought it would be an easy 4 stars, however it starts to come apart around the 3/4 mark. People change personality too abruptly, there's a big information dump at one point and some 'Story of O' type stuff which didn't do anything for me.
However it manages to pull itself together and keep the 4th star, if only just.

I don't think the story takes itself too seriously either, which is a good choice, there's a twinkle in the eye which keeps it from being too, pretentious? for want of a better term.

At times funny, interesting, sexy, disturbing, creepy and vile, but rarely boring. ( )

Irwin's usual convoluted plotting, where the twists and turns can be as baffling to the reader as to the characters. But in a good way: the thwarting of expectation and undermining of motives is usually surprising and leaves you slightly dizzy, not quite knowing what is real, what fabricated or hallucinatory.

The problem with this one, though, is that I had no emotional attachment to any of the characters, none of whom I particularly liked, and consequently I didn't really care what happened to them. However, still worth a read because Irwin is a good writer. ( )

Irwin weaves a terrific tale of the "Summer of Love Under Will": a hippy college student in London gets into more occultism than he bargains for. The story is enchanting, revolting, hilarious, nostalgic, riveting, and pathetic by turns, and the magick, the drugs and the weird sex are all pretty credible--even as outre as they become.

The entire book is written as a diary, initially undertaken as a magical record in obedience to the "Black Book Lodge," a persistent old schism (of Irwin's invention) from Crowley's A.'.A.'. The journal format is not merely an homage to or evocation of classic horror fiction like Stoker's Dracula, it is a faithful representation of the sort of document that modern magical practice actually generates. It repeatedly inspired me with envy; would that my own diary were as witty and perceptive as that of Irwin's protagonist! In that sense, it can serve as a goad for working occultists today.

The author's 1967 photo portrait on the back inside jacket (also in the background of the paperback cover) offers further evidence for the suspicion--which must occur to any informed reader--that he drew significantly on personal experience in constructing this delectable yarn.