Our Werewolves, Ourselves
Our Werewolves, Ourselves John Michael Greer The muse who inspires these essays is an unruly goddess. I was planning this week on picking up the threads of the sequence of posts I began at the start of this year, summing up what I’ve learned so far in my exploration of enchantment, disenchantment, and the rise and fall of civilizations, and sketching out the terrain ahead. Instead, a chance discovery in the course of research for an upcoming novel sent me chasing off in an unexpected direction—and that’s why we’re going to talk instead about lycanthropy, Donald Trump, and the persistence of primal archetypes in our supposedly oh-so-modern industrial society. I think most of my readers know by now that I’ve recently launched a new series of novels in the occult-detective genre, featuring 18-year-old novice occultist Ariel Moravec and her adept grandfather Dr. Bernard Moravec. It differs from other occult-detective novels in that all of the magic that features in the books is...