Magic & Meaning by Eugene Burger and Robert E. Neale
Reviewed by Jamy Ian Swiss (originally published in Genii April, 2005)
I have been a fan and friend of Eugene Burger's for more than a decade. The influences
of his books, lectures, and performance—on both the culture of close-up magic on the
whole, and my own theory and practice—have been substantial. I believe that those who
truly desire to learn about the performance of closeup magic simply must turn to the
work of Eugene Burger. Robert Neale also possesses a distinctive voice, demonstrated in
his book Tricks of the Imagination, and recently in an excellent feature issue of Genii
(September, 1994). Clearly these two men have much in common, not the least of which
is their shared backgrounds in magic, philosophy, and theology. In this unusual volume,
they combine these and other mutual interests to create a contemplative and
provocative book, distinctly different from the vast bulk of conjuring literature.
What is this book about? The dustjacket leads with the rather sensational phrase, "In
defense of real magic." Frankly, I wish I knew what the hell that is supposed to mean.
Mr. Burger, in his introduction, gives us some rather more useful clues about the book's
direction, in a series of questions which include, "What is magic? When did it begin?
Why did it appear? What is the meaning of its symbolism? And how can theatrical magic
and illusion best be presented before intelligent audiences as we move into the twenty-
first century?"
The authors consider these and other questions—and while they answer some, they do
far more "considering" than they do "answering"—in 14 chapters, eight by Mr. Neale,
and the remainder by Mr. Burger. (One minor disappointment is the lack of even a
single jointly written chapter. A conversation, an introduction or an epilogue— clarifying
both the authors' points of agreement and disagreement—might have best emphasized
the dynamic of these two voices, and would have been an appreciated addition.) The
discussion roams from history and anthropology to psychology and philosphy, theater
and literature, and even includes seven performance routines contributed by Mr. Neale.
Much of the book's most interesting and substantive content concerns the history and
anthropology of "magic," including explorations by both authors of the origins of occult
and religious magic in early and pre-historical human culture. These well-researched
and imaginatively conceived chapters offer much that will be new to conjurors, and will
perhaps cast serious doubts on some of the conventional but limited wisdom that has
been previously offered by and to magicians. How relevant these historical ruminations
may be—or even should be— to a contemporary performance of Matrix, remains an
open question, one that readers must answer for themselves. Those who are most
concerned with historical and even quasitheological questions will doubtless find this book of particular interest. So will those interested in the use of symbolism, in a broad
sense, as fodder for the theatrical presentation of magic.
Despite Mr. Maven's comment in his introduction that "... the authors of this book do
not seem to be particularly interested in anything practical," there is in fact much that is
quite practical indeed. Mr. Neale's eminently practical card tricks notwithstanding, two
of Mr. Burger's chapters serve good purpose here. In "Are Card Tricks Card Magic?", he
examines this question, one that is quite appropriate for him considering that he makes
the bulk of his professional living by doing just that, namely card tricks (or perhaps I
should say, card magic). In "Meaning in Magic," Mr. Burger discusses the difference
between the presentational strategies of "literal" versus "symbolic demonstration"—that
is, bare descriptive patter versus metaphorical presentation—and how to turn one into
the other. Here, Mr. Burger skips lightly away from the metaphysical sparks that he
strikes elsewhere in these pages, pausing to douse potential fires with a soothing
endorsement of more prosaic approaches to conjuring symbolism and presentation. He
not only validates the place of literal demonstration in the presentation of closeup
magic, but goes so far as to provide a baseball-themed alternative to the otherwise
darkly cosmic and elegant presentation that Mr. Neale offers for his trick Sole Survivor.
Far be it for me to restrain Mr. Burger's apparently expansive view of how best to
present magic. But I find myself at times confused and distracted from what I suspect is
the book's main thesis by Mr. Burger's occasional forays into more vague and even
mystic realms. Hence I find portions of his discussion of "the magical experience" to be
problematic and even troubling at times. I must confess that the words "the magical
experience," in the context in which Mr. Burger explores them, is the kind of language
that slides through my brain and leaves no detectable residue, much like a fried egg on
teflon. In his introduction, wherein we first come upon the phrase "conjuring and the
magical worldview," Mr. Burger briefly acknowledges that "These are troublesome
words and we must never forget that men and women have been tortured and killed
because of them." Subsequently, in his chapter "The Magical Experience," he
acknowledges that "... it is exceedingly difficult to state in detail what the magical
worldview is. Perhaps a simple starting point is that... there is a mysterious interaction
between what we have come to think of as unrelated elements of the universe." But the
mistaken identification of such mysterious—and all too often nonexistent—interactions
is precisely what leads people down the path to belief in astrology, faith-healing, and
witchcraft, while the scientific method is a way of accurately identifying interactions and
avoiding the often appealing but at times disastrous contusion between correlation and
causality.
I also found myself guessing at times whether Mr. Burger was merely reporting on
alternative worldviews, or in fact describing or even endorsing those of his own. When
one speaks on behalf "non-rationality," for example, one had best spend some time
clarifying the difference between non-rationality and irrationality, lest he be branded a
proponent of the latter by a skeptic or embraced as a comrade by the mystic. Hence Mr.
Burger may appear to be taking a passing slap at science—"and its offspring,
technology"—in his comment that, "In the twentieth century, when the bitter effects of
technology on the life and health of the planet have become apparent, for many people the idea of 'progress' has fallen under a cloud of suspicion." One wonders if he is offering
a sincere reflection of his own Luddite inclinations, or merely an objective observation
of contemporary anti-science cavils. Of course, it is quite possible that Mr. Burger is
describing beliefs he does not personally embrace, or perhaps is merely expressing his
own reservations about the potential drawbacks of a scientific and technological society
that he substantially supports and enjoys. But one cannot deny that this book reaches us
in the midst of a larger cultural context; a Zeitgeist rich with mushy New Age theosophy,
reflexive science-bashing, and the ever-present passion for the irrational. In light of
these undeniable (and to some of us, regrettable) conditions, and given references to
"real magic," the "magical worldview," the fact of both authors' involvement in "Mystery
School" and a dedication to Jeff McBride—the school's founder and a prominent icon in
the "neo-gospel" (as Richard Robinson has wryly dubbed it) magic movement—the
reader craves clarity lest confusion be left to reign. And when opportunities for such
clarity are neglected—when the authors coyly flirt with muddying the lines between
well-defined theatrical issues and issues of metaphysical belief—I fear that they imperil
their more rational messages.
"Yes, I have paid more attention to the context than to the tricks. Go and do
likewise. The magic of tricks lies in their context. "—Robert E. Neale, Magic and Meaning
Thus if Mr. Burger includes himself in his description of the cloud of progress-targeted
suspicions of "many people," I would inquire whether his personal cloud extends to the
tools of his book-writing, including his word processor, or, for that matter, his
eyeglasses—technological progress that amounts to nothing less than applied science.
And I would remind him that we would do well to highlight rather than muddy the
distinctions between "belief and conjuring: the tortured and killed men and women he
so briefly acknowledges did not suffer or die at hands of science, but rather at the hands
of religion and mysticism.
Similarly, some may chafe at Mr. Burger's mention of James Randi, quoted as having
written, "To mix our data input with childish notions of magic and fantasy is to cripple
our perception of the world around us." Mr. Burger responds that "...we must ask
ourselves whether there is a proper place for the nonrational, for fantasy and
imagination, for intuition and wonder and magic in our lives—or whether, instead, these
are but 'childish notions' that adults must put behind them." But this attack is a
disingenuous one; Mr. Burger either deliberately takes Mr. Randi out of context, or else
has deeply misunderstood the noted skeptic's concerns. Mr. Randi does not indicate in
the selected quotation that "childish notions of magic and fantasy" have no appropriate
place whatsoever in our lives. Rather, he is specifically addressing the need for critical
thinking tools in assessing the truth of testable claims—a particular kind of definable
truth. The noted science-promoter has spent most of his life as a professional magician,
and I can personally attest to the fact that, like any good magician, he takes a childlike
delight in experiencing and presenting the mysteries of magic. As a lover of science, and
a skeptic myself, I feel genuine awe and wonder when I consider the annual 1,000 to
2,500 mile migration of the Monarch Butterfly, an insect whose brain is no larger than
the period which marks the end of this sentence. I do not yet know how the butterfly manages this feat, but my confidence that the mystery is knowable does nothing to
dilute my sense of wonder and delight at the fact of its existence—and neither, when it
comes, will the explanation.
How is one to reconcile ephemeral meanderings about matters spiritual with the
simplicity of Mr. Burger's discussion of card tricks, and the ringing clarity of Mr. Neale's
card routines? What if anything does "the magical worldview" have to do with how
"theatrical magic and illusion [can] best be presented before intelligent audiences as we
move into the twenty-first century?" I think the overarching problem lies with the very
use of the term "magic." The word itself can be extremely confusing, because common
usage presents us with a schizophrenic set of definitions, ranging from "the
supernatural" to "sleight of hand." Yet how can these things be the same? The fact is,
they probably cannot— and while Mssrs. Burger and Neale have written a volume which
includes valiant attempts to resolve these disparate meanings, there are those of us who
would prefer to clarify and even separate the differences between them rather than
confuse the issue further.
For me, "magic" is conjuring—that is, the demonstration of the impossible by deem of
clearly natural means. The audience does not know the exact means, but they clearly do
know that the means are ordinary. This is precisely what makes theatrical conjuring the
uniquely intellectual and even moral art that it is. This is a definition and a performance
context that is quite clear and unequivocal. (Jay Sankey once proposed that instead of
"magician" we adopt the term "material fictionist;" an interesting but unfortunate
example of the cure being worse than the disease.) Once the element of metaphysical
belief—or even a confusion about such matters—is introduced to a magical performance,
conjuring risks blurring into religion. This is the sort of confusion that some mentalists
exploit, but it is a muddling of which I want no part. When an audience is confident that
mentalism, along with bizarre, gospel or "neo-gospel" magic, is accomplished by means
as clearly and intentionally deceptive as those of contemporary "magic"—in short, is
deliberately "impossible", rather than "real"—then all such performances become as
theatrically legitimate as those of modern conjuring. This is contrary to the conventional
wisdom that mentalism thrives only in a context of what Mr. Burger calls, in his
discussion of Bizarre Magick, "not knowing"—that is, "...to leave the audience in the
state of not knowing for sure whether what they had just experienced was a clever
illusion or reality." (And here again, one can only guess whether Mr. Burger endorses
this approach, or has reverted to the role of dispassionate reporter.) In fact, this theory
of the alleged advantages of deliberately cultivating confusion about whether the effects
demonstrated are illusionary creations or putative supernatural abilities is a theory
historically voiced far more often by mentalism's amateur writers rather than its
professional performers—and may well be the fatal error that has prevented mentalism
from achieving the widespread popularity that magic enjoys today.
Fortunately, the book is not overwhelmed by fog-bound mysticism. Much of the subject
matter is presented clearly and even rationally. This is delightfully true where one might
least expect it, for example in Mr. Neale's versions of "gospel magic," not a field noted
for objective inquiry. Then again, practitioners of gospel magic may find themselves less than enchanted by Mr. Neale's subversive approach to this material, and indeed, those
that are enchanted might be well advised to go back and read it again more carefully.
Mr. Neale has both a unique conceptual approach to magic and a clear talent for turning
technically simple tricks into effective performance material. He employs clear thinking,
a deep search for logical motivations for otherwise contrived procedures or plots, and
genuinely creative presentations. His trick Sole Survivor is a sparkling example of these
talents, providing a deliciously dark presentation and intelligent justifications for what
in lesser hands would make for the most pedestrian of tricks. (Mr. Burger possesses
similar abilities, but in this volume he seems to have given Mr. Neale his opportunity to
shine, and Mr. Burger declines to present us with any of his own wonderful magic
routines.) In his chapter "Matinee Magic," Mr. Neale considers, among other things, the
reasons why the Sawing illusion is so compelling, and while he leaves many of the
conclusions to the reader, implicit in this chapter is a strong critique of the theatrical
trivialization of conjuring. His chapter on "Parable Magic" (which includes his take on
gospel magic) manages to be entertainingly well-written, while simultaneously leaving
the reader with more puzzles than solutions. His final chapter, "Many Magics," presents
a highly theoretical analysis of magic—or more properly, "magics"—which represents
the book's boldest attempts to resolve the above mentioned disparity between the many
confusing and conflicting definitions of "magic."
It should be clear by now that this is a book that veers from the daring to the dreary, the
laudable to the laughable—"the sublime and the goofy," in Mr. Maven's words—and
back again. Have Mssrs. Neale and Burger provided the Holy Grail that will forever
unite the various magics? No. But neither do they claim to have done so, and herein lie
both similarities and differences between this volume and another recent thought-
provoking and controversial work, Darwin Ortiz's Strong Magic. Like Mr. Ortiz, these
authors present important questions that all magicians could do well to consider. They
provide some, although by no means all, of the answers. But as I wrote of Strong Magic
( Genii , July 1994): The questions are for us all to consider. The answers are for each of
us to discover.
Does this book speak to these points any better than some of the authors' own previous
works? That may have more to do with the reader's personal tastes, and how an
individual connects with this particular set of source material and examples. Thus for
some this book may strike a resonant chord; for others, Mr. Burger's Haunted Deck or
Mr. Neale's Endless Chain routine may serve as more enticing lures. Regardless,
anything that serves to encourage and inspire magicians to expand beyond the story of
the Magician vs the Gambler should probably be lauded. This book is yet another call for
art in magic; more specifically, it is also a call for the injection of content via symbolism,
along with one set of examples from which to draw. There are countless alternatives, if
the specific tastes of these authors do not match with your own—as they often do not
match with my personal tastes and philosophical bend. But your own bookshelves are
likely filled with similar source material—everywhere but on the magic shelves! As a
teacher and director, I have helped fishermen put fishing in their magic, golfers their
golf, sons their fathers and lovers their loves. The mission is to put your life and
experience, passions and point of view, into your magic—lest you become just another of the countless nameless, faceless wonders who have three pieces of rope, each a different
length....
For those who take the time and effort to read and ponder this work, the result will
likely differ substantially from the study of most other conjuring literature. Even though
there are a few tricks included, you will not be running out the next day to try them on
your family or coworkers, much less at the local magic meeting (the very prospect of the
latter is probably too horrifying to even consider). In fact, you will be hard-pressed, I
suspect, to gloss over this work in an evening and then remand it to a shelf. Rather—and
much like any good literature or art—this book demands more than it offers, and
answers less than it asks. What you get out of it will eventually depend far more on the
effort you are willing to expend, rather than on the considerable efforts of the authors.
