This article was published on media underground and disinformation back in the summer of 2001.
Gerald Suster, the esteemed British writer, occultist and historian, died on Saturday the 3rd of February 2001 at the age of 49. As a devoted advocate of Thelemic Magick, Gerald’s fascination for the occult, and in particular the esoteric theories of Aleister Crowley, developed in his very early teens. Later, at the age of 21, his interests in occultism were undoubtedly fuelled by his meeting with Crowley’s former secretary, Dr. Francis Israel Regardie, whom he later wrote about in his biography Crowley’s Apprentice (Weiser, 1990).
It was this biography which first inspired me to contact Gerald in 1992. At the time I was 21 myself and having first been introduced to Aleister Crowley through Gerald’s biography The Legacy Of The Beast (W.H. Allen, 1988), I was curious and keen to find out what this excellent writer had to say. I was not disappointed.
Over the years that followed I enjoyed a healthy correspondence with the man and delighted in the intelligence, wit and charm that was always present within each of his missives. Despite the fact that we both shared a profound interest in Thelemic philosophy, the diversity of subject matter in our correspondence was of great value to me as a growing youth, and ranged in anything from boxing, woman and politics to science, art and occultism.
On one instance I remember being particularly nervous about informing him of a Qabalistic theory I had been working on which I felt expounded further his solution to the riddle and cipher of The Book Of The Law as published in the Thelemic journal Nuit-Isis in 1989. To my utter astonishment, he was delighted with my research and sent a copy of my theories to virtually everyone he thought would find it of interest. Having believed that I had solved the cipher, he then encouraged me to write more and kindly put me in touch with certain individuals whom he felt would aid me in the circulation of my work.
His kindness to me was exquisite and in June 1995 I travelled down to London and met him for the first time in an Islington pub called The Four Sisters.
“Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law” – were the words in which he greeted me, as he walked through the door with his wife Michaela, and I of course replied: “Love is the law, love under will”. He was a tall slim man, with thinning hair and a flecked grey beard. One couldn’t help noticing the glazed far away look in his eyes that I later learned was customary to most serious students of magick and occultism.
We talked at length about many matters and we were both delighted to learn that each of us had travelled to, and experienced Bulgaria: “The writer Douglas Adams, whom I went to Cambridge with,” he explained whilst supping on a pint of Courage Directors, “once told me the three rules of travel. Rule 1: never go to Bulgaria. Rule 2: never ever go to Bulgaria. And Rule 3 is never ever, ever go to Bulgaria.” I concurred with him and he related a story about a bus trip he had taken in “that wretched country” where the driver had let some children off to take a leak in some nearby woodland. After the parents had waited practically ages for their return, it was later discovered that the Bulgarian army, whom had been practising in the area, had “netted the poor buggers up”.
His attitude to drink was: “Never go anywhere, dear fellow, without a hip-flask,” and on politics he said: “I don’t give a damn which party you vote for, so long as you are voting for them for all the right reasons.”
After we spoke at length for several hours, he and his wife walked me back to the tube station, stopping briefly on the way to laugh hysterically at a stationary Volvo car. The poor woman in the driving seat hadn’t a clue what to make of these two peculiar characters, bending down and pointing at her front grill whilst questioning: “Is that a Volvo? It is! Good heavens!”
We kept in regular contact over the years that followed and he always sent me signed copies of his books as they were published. To my delight, he even slipped my name into his horror novel The Labyrinth Of Satan (Hodder & Stoughton, 1997) referring to a “Castle Mortimer” in or near “Kirkcaldy, Fife” (my home town and county). I used to review many of his books and on the conclusion of one of my own works he did an outstanding review for me in Talking Stick.
Gerald wasn’t just a scholar of occultism, he lived, breathed, and slept it in every aspect of his life. His remarkable enthusiasm and passion for Thelema produced a wonderfully provocative and controversial style that always encouraged the intelligent mind to think and the idiot to scurry off. His The Truth About The Tarot (Skoob Books, 1990) is an excellent example of this where he utterly demolishes all preconceived middle-class ideas about what the Tarot is and how it is used. As Gerald put it:
“New Age is merely softened down and tarted up Christianity; an outmoded religion once adhered to by primitive mammalian primates based upon ludicrous notions of sin and guilt. Under Christianity, perfectly natural desires were called ‘sinful’. Under New Age, you still have to be guilty as sin for the same, for the words and phrases are ‘unspiritual’ - whatever that may mean - or ‘not virtuous’. Whatever words are used, people still end up feeling guilty over perfectly natural and honourable feelings like love, hate, lust, anger et al.”
I met Gerald several more times over the years that followed, however on the last occasion, much to my regret, we fell out over what I can only deduce was a terrible misunderstanding. The last two letters we wrote to each other were scathing to say the least, however as Israel Regardie once told him: “you have the nerve of the devil, Gerald”, and although this gave rise to a wonderfully provocative style in writing, it also gave rise to what I think may have been many broken friendships and relationships.
I never heard from him again after my last letter in November 2000. Seven month later I learned that he had died not long after that correspondence. Whether he didn’t reply due to ill health or just regarded me as a lost cause I am not sure, but it was extremely uncharacteristic of him not to rise to a good fight.
Commendably, Gerald Suster lived and died by his own laws, and whatever his faults were, they were well outweighed by his many virtues. He has left the world a legacy of over 30 wonderful books, including many fascinating horror/thrillers as well as an exploration of John Dee, heavy weight boxers and the occult ideas of Adolf Hitler.
I have not read his last book yet. But given that it was a career long aspiration to get it published without excessive editorial interference, I’m sure The Hell-Fire Friars: Sex, Politics & Religion (Robson, 2000) will be one of his most outstanding works to date.
Goodbye Gerald, and in your own words: “Goddess Bless!”
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