'Lo all,
Terrific thread, jmd. I'd like to tell you about the Tarot book I found most inspiring, but I'm not sure I'm playing within the rules. You decide.
To begin with, I can't give you the name of the book, but after you've read this you probably won't want to know anyway.
In that long ago and far away time I'd acquired my first Tarot deck and Tarot book at an esoteric bookstore in Denver, Colorado. (Aquarian, and "Psychic Tarot.")
The first time I went to the bookstore, I was entranced. The dark interior was cosy, shadows hiding the mysteries, the smell of incense in the air and strange music playing. The woman there was jolly and bright, with a nice laugh. Well, soon I was hooked on Tarot, wanted to know more, and wondering why all my readings with the Aquarian deck were all moonlight readings in melancholy shades of gray.
My second visit was totally different. No music was playing. Despair and gloom hung in the air. The woman was so obviously despondant it was like encountering a physical force. Without thinking I blurted out, "What's wrong?"
"We've been Hexed," she said, sounding like dark and doom and descended upon us all, each and everyone.
"Huh?"
"It's the Witch Wars," she whispered.
"Here?" I asked, thinking, perhaps, that she was involved in some contretemps with a rival bookstore I'd heard about but never visited.
"All over the world," she said. She told me that even as we spoke, powerful spells were being conjured to remove the hex from her store. My inclination was to pump her for information, for my own selfish entertainment, but she was so obviously upset, I couldn't bring myself to do it.
Instead, I spotted a bin of used books next to the counter, saw the word "tarot" on the cover of one, and quickly pulled it out and bought it. Cheap. Then just as quickly left.
I didn't get home until late that night, just as a Rocky Mountain thunderstorm, with heavy rain and smashing winds began lashing over the city. The electricity in my apartment building was out.
Now, a new book is a treasure I can't wait to dive into, so I lined my coffee table with candles and sat on the carpet to read. I had my Tarot deck, which I was in the habit of mindlessly playing with sometimes when I read, a wine glass, and, I confess, a screwtop jug of country red wine. Music would have been nice, but was impossible.
If I'm piling coincidence upon coincidence and contrivence upon contrivence, well, in fiction that is bad. "Purple prose" comes to mind. But we all know that in real life, anything can happen, in any order..
(Folks, this is getting very long, and I do want to tell you about this book. I'll start another thingy.)
Talisman