“The art of Smokework — the terrible, but beautiful art of it — lies in the unspoken truth that it is death magic. Not pain, not blood; but the reaping, harvesting, and cremation of living, growing things. Have you never wondered why there is no power in the burning of a stone or a sheep’s shed coat? No, it is the blades of grass and the great redwoods alike that give us smoke for casting.”

– Caron Niemens, 1808, “Treatise on Necromancy and the Structured Magicks”.

“The difference between Smokework and wood-witching is to little as to not exist. Mainly, a wood-witch doesn’t read textbooks, or allow the men of the Capital to forbid one spell or another. And not all spells need fire to take hold. That’s a fantasy of power.”

Eloise Savary, while imprisoned; recorded in Confessiouns of the Wicches (sic), 1830, anonymous editor and compiler.

Smokework is one of Elessan’s four — legally, three — systems of structured magic. Possibly the most systematized of the four, Smokework consists of burning organic plant matter (tree, flower, fungus, fruit, etc.) and casting spells with the resultant smoke. The nature of the spell depends on the properties, both pharmacological and symbolic, of the plant in question — these are combined to create ever-more intricate spells. These are in turn regulated, systematized and recorded by the Smokework Collegiate.

Each plant has several meanings attached to it; these meanings are fluid and culturally based. The Collegiate attempts to regulate these with a top-down approach, assigning numerical values to different meanings in order to control how thaumaturgy is used and by who, but “secret”, regional and discreet meanings still persist. As an example for how Smokework ingredients are classified, below is the entry for anise (aniseed) in the official Smokeworker’s Almanac (1919).

Anise – spice
CONTAINS: anethole, magnesium
SIDE EFFECTS: May interact with female conditions if consumed.
SYMBOLS: (1) Air (2) Protection from nightmares (3) Masculinity (4) Exorcism (5) Divination
SPELLS: Lady of Flutes (anise2), Eight of Shields (anise1), Lady of Shields (anise2), The Knight (anise3), The Spiral Staircase (anise5), The Pariah (anise1)
FOUND IN: Forcett, North Zweispar in the wild; botanical gardens of most manor homes.
OTHER NOTES: very popular with dogs. Rarity Index 2, Class 1 Danger
OTHER NAMES: Pimpinella anisum (Toryan), şhuí qín (Shufenshi), çhí qîm (Nguan-chiut), anet or anix (Low Elessan)

–Smokeworker’s Almanac (1919)

Anise is categorized as a spice (that is, used in cooking but for flavor rather than as a staple, and usually dried or in seed form rather than fresh), contains two ingredients of note (anethole and magnesium; not particularly notable but sometimes useful when foraging or when creating incense wicks), has no side effects to worry about when burning, and has five numbered symbols. The spells listed refer to which symbol is in use and how many ‘units’ of the plants to use to invoke the symbol. Since anise fruits are prominently used in cooking, the parts used for magic are usually the flowers, stems and roots; to cast The Knight, then, a Smokeworker would cut two lengths of stem or use two dried flowers. (Fresh also works, but burns less efficiently, and does not travel well.) Other Notes will often include bits of information that may not be useful magically, but certainly may come in handy – after all, if burning or carrying anise, it’s probably good to know in advance why all the street dogs are coming to hang out with you. This is also where rarity and danger will be noted. Anise, as neither a particularly rare nor dangerous plant, ranks as a 2 on the Rarity Index, and a Class 1 danger. The only reason it ranks as high as a 2 is simply because while it is not hard to find, it can be expensive to produce, and difficult to beat the chefs and apothecaries to. Anise is also of note for having at least one ‘secret’, subculture-specific meaning. While its association with masculinity is widespread and official, it has gained an extra association among inverts and tomboys to symbolize manhood among those not born to it. The Collegiate, predictably, is in no rush to acknowledge this.

The Smokework Collegiate was founded in 1789, some years after the Songwork Collegiate and Diviner’s Guild (the predecessor to the modern Mirrorwork Collegiate). This was not the first institution to focus on the study of Elessan plant life or their associated magical properties; the Botanist’s Guild and Apothecary’s Guild focused on indexing plants in their own right and using them for medicinal purposes respectively, and in the process had recruited several at-the-time independent Smokeworkers. In 1801, though, the Smokework Collegiate had successfully poached, bribed or otherwise tempted many of the most talented Smokeworkers in not just Den Elessa but the entire country to work with them, and finally set in place their takeover of the Botanist’s Guild, absorbing their existing knowledge and manpower. The Collegiate did the same to the Apothecary’s Guild in 1828, but in response to increasing demand, the Guild reformed in 1913.

The first recorded use of Smokework in Elessan archives is found in the work of Johann Johannsen Niddanus, who credits Carl Nilssen Linnaeus in 1558 with “unnaturele pouers engennderede wyth thy burninge of incence fragrante”. While plant symbolism can be found earlier, this is the most concrete start date for the discipline, and as such, Nilssen Linnaeus is considered the (historical) founder of Smokework. Among the Nine Heroes, Brunhilde and Arthur are equally associated with the discipline, although the Fisher King is more prominent in the work of the Collegiate.

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Out of Universe Commentary:

The Smokework Almanac is a real document I have, slowly growing! The symbols for each plant come either directly from mythology, magic (thank you to Wiccan and pagan websites), or folklore such as recorded in places like A Modern Herbal. In cases where these symbols aren’t obvious or the cultures in question don’t really work that way, I’ve created the symbols from the medicinal or practical uses for the plant.

Keep your eyes peeled for next Magic Monday, in which we’ll be getting into Songwork! And if you’re interested in supporting me, I’ve moved over to Ko-Fi for monthly support — find me here!

tw: childhood (sexual) abuse, PTSD/mental illness

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There’s a ringing in the air that she can’t quite place
a little everywhere, every moment, when she turns her head
here and there, like the calm before the storm, like the rising
of a quake, the seismographic shake, and it follows, follows, follows—

She is twenty-nine years old; she works at a bank; she walks to work and back each day; she pays her rent on time.

She calls her mother on Mondays; they talk about the weather; they talk about when she’ll get married, she laughs it off again—

“Mother. Please. I’ll meet someone, when I have the time. It has to be the right man.” And really, it’s a little more complex, because—

She has things in order now. And nothing has to change.

–it follows and it falls in step, the fear of some unstable
puzzle piece that she can’t find – it lives and grows
in the clefts and cracks of her mind, pulsing in the hollow
cavern of her ribcage, where it whispers, whispers, whispers—

She is twenty-nine years old; she runs on Sunday mornings; she does her groceries on Wednesdays at the local store; she donates to the Mission when she’s got some extra cash, and she keeps meaning to go to the shelter for a cat—

There is nothing wrong with any of this. The picture is intact. So what’s missing? What’s missing? What’s missing?

Does she want it back?

–it whispers things that she can’t hear and she doesn’t want to,
the sibilance erases all the consonance away,
leaves her only with the vowel-shaped impression
of a guilty conscience and a ghost that’s rising, rising, rising—

They don’t talk about it, her and her mother, they never have and never will, they dodge around it in conversation, there’s no call on the anniversary.

The dead have no power over the living. That’s what they say; she is twenty-nine years old and the departed have no sway. She works at a bank. She walks to work and back each day. She pays her rent on time, she wants to get a cat—

–all these little facts like cards in stacks and when one starts to bend she tries so hard to put it back.

Everything’s just fine. Don’t worry. When she calls her mother, she doesn’t hit a dial tone or get told it’s the wrong number. When she talks to her mother, she doesn’t hear another voice, whispering in the background about how she made her choice—

Nightmares, nightmares, stay where I put you.

–it rises and it rises like the tide and salt-born sea
and bone-dust and fossil and petrified-black hearts
and she has managed so far so why not manage more
the mind’s a crystal palace but the body keeps the score—

She is twenty-nine years old; she runs on Sunday mornings; she tries not to look at red flags as invitations and not warnings. The storm’s been over now for years and still new things keep dawning, like how not acknowledging a ghost doesn’t stop its haunting, and—

–has anybody noticed that she never joins the games? Of ‘Never have I Ever’ and ‘Spin the Bottle’ and ‘Truth and Three Lies’?

–have people started noticing the way she holds her keys? Claws at her knuckles, she’s so quick to improvise–

–have they wondered idly why she’s terrified when punished? Like it’s just an excuse for something worse, something hidden in the dirt and crawling words–

–have they ever asked, or thought, about the cut-out pretty hole
that’s left in her mantra when she recites her normal, normal days
there are lots of absent fathers, there’s nothing special here
except the fact that she won’t leave a door unlocked
or that she hasn’t kissed a man without a knifeblade in her heart—

She is twenty-nine years old.

She will hit thirty soon; her father will be ten years dead; she will quit her job without knowing just why she’s doing it; she will stop running, her vigilance too acute; she will ‘think about’ the cat forever but never get around to it; she will keep insisting that there is nothing wrong.

–does she remember? It kind of depends
on the day, the hour, the moment you ask, which shadows shade her face,
which stone she’s last engraved, whether she’s been saved or safe
little illusions keep you numb, shove the corpse behind the door
the mind’s an easy swindle but the body keeps the score.

If you’ve been following me (anywhere, really) for a while, then you’ve picked up that I go on weird little spiral trips. Music is no exception. Frankly, it’s one of the usual causes! So instead of trying to hit any level of consistency for music columns, here’s a few of the songs from the 70s I’ve been hyperfixating on (or have loved for ages) and context on… why, and what they are.

1. Love To Love You Baby – Donna Summer

No, despite appearances, I am not seventy years old. I’ve been rediscovering the true glory of disco through one of my historical fiction stories, and while some of it’s as cheesy as you think (Le Freak cannot be salvaged for me, personally) this song is a masterpiece. It’s also incredibly, embarrassingly sexy. Oh gawd. The single version is a normal, respectable three minutes long, but this one – the original mix – is sixteen minutes, forty eight seconds. Imagine being in a club to this. No wonder so many people had sex at discos.

A few notes: Listen to the long version, at least once. And listen with stereo sound, preferably headphones. The dual mixing on this is fantastic, and a perfect example of what it means when people say that disco walked so that dubstep, electronica, techno, club music, etc. could fly. The slow build of this song is everything. It’s a song designed to take you from cold as ice, straight from outside, and warm you right up. Too much of a sex metaphor? I can’t help it. It’s a hot song and it is supposed to be one. (What do you think all that moaning is?)

2. In Time by Sly & The Family Stone

So fun fact, apparently Sly & The Family Stone were basically the first integrated band in the American music mainstream. That’s wild to me. I mean, it shouldn’t be – we’re talking the 70s – but considering the song of theirs that’s endured the most on regular 70s/80s radio is ‘Everyday People’, that’s awesome. ‘In Time’ post-dates ‘Everyday People’ by a few years, but it’s no less enduring in funk circles. Me, I’m new to actually listening to funk, so I just know the song sounds familiar. Also, that I really like it.

More than anything else, I love how prominent the bass and drums are in this. Apparently that’s what this whole album did for funk (and probably disco!) music at the time; it shifted a lot of focus onto bass and drums, and you can basically listen to this and Donna Summer and see how jazz and funk slowly used electronic tools more and more to transform into disco – and disco was one of the two genres to inform modern electronica and techno, so there you have it! Black folks invented everything good, y’all. Give your kings and queens their respect.

3. The Bitch Is Back by Elton John

This song is WEIRD. I love it, to be clear. And I’m including it here for a reason that will become very clear! But it’s fascinating seeing people categorizing it as hard rock when it almost feels disco-y in places, it’s very catchy, and then I go on the little trip of “why aren’t there more Elton John disco cuts”. Anyway, I do love this song. It’s also a really interesting example of how hard rock has gotten So Much Harder, because even some of the prog rock and punk from the 70s feels soft as hell now, because hard rock became our norm. Imagine Green Day with a saxophone, right? (Actually that sounds like something they’d do.)

Relevantly, what is with the sax in everything from the 70s and 80s? Where did it go? Bring Back The Sax. I want Bad Guy with Sax. Old Town Road with Sax. WAP with Sax.

….I never promised I had good music opinions.

4. The Musical Box by Genesis

I know there was some sort of technical innovation around the start of the 70s/end of the 60s that allowed for these ridiculously long songs (this one is 10 minutes) but I actually don’t know what it was! I just know that I actually take quite a great amount of pleasure in disco and prog rock both exploring the possibilities of a longer format. The Musical Box is actually one of the few Peter Gabriel Genesis songs I like – I’m usually not big on their early work, but I like this one a lot for the Drama:tm: of it. (Which, to be fair, is most of Gabriel’s work.) It is interesting as I grow up and realize that some of my issues between Gabriel and Collins are mixing issues, not coherency issues; Gabriel isn’t being quiet on purpose. For this song it works to a degree, because he seems to want the lyrics in the background to a degree, but it’s also another connection to disco – the instruments are the star, not his voice.

Some of the nursery rhymes they use make me giggle, though. How British can you get? (Spoken as a not-so-proud Brit.)

5. Metal Postcard (Mittageisen) by Siouxsie and the Banshees

And now we move from prog-rock into punk! While all the ‘big three’ (Sex Pistols, The Clash, The Ramones) got started around this time, the Banshees weren’t far behind. This song is from their first album, Scream, which came out in 78. Once again, though, it’s fascinating seeing how even punk follows a certain trend – this isn’t the only song of theirs that’s catchy in the kind of way that you could dance to it, even if it’s just headbanging. Music is a social activity first and foremost here, and I kind of like that. Prog-rock is the genre that actively refuses to be danceable, and it’s consciously doing that while also pushing electronic elements to new heights. Punk… is about half and half. Once you hit the 80s it’s rejected the dance thing entirely, but you see the Clash flirting with reggae elements as well.

I like this song a lot, in large part because it’s not a song that should be a hit. It’s a simple, rough, catchy riff on a guitar that’s too loud and vocals that aren’t as shiny and preened as the other artists of the era, but that’s the whole appeal. The lyrics don’t make sense, either! You just get like… the Vibe. Which is a big theme with the 70s, but that’s the drugs. The mixing on this is really fun, too, because the vocals and guitars are actually quite well balanced – not what you’d expect.

6. Valentine’s Day by Klaus Nomi

Okay, TECHNICALLY cheating with this one, which is why it’s a bonus entry. Klaus Nomi was indeed a 70s musician, but this track and the album it’s off of weren’t technically released until 2007. Nomi died in 83, one of the earliest celebrity/musician fatalities of AIDS, and Za Bakdaz: The Unfinished Opera was about two-thirds done at the time. ‘Valentine’s Day’ is my favourite track, and it’s an odd mix of elements; classical instrumentation, operatic vocals, touches of prog-rock stylistic choices, avant-garde inclusion of conversational scraps, and a gothic melancholy to the whole thing. It is an absolute fucking shame he died so young, and I am very glad we have some more of his work to enjoy than we thought we did. Nomi worked closely with Bowie during his short career, and you can tell – there’s the same sense of drama, and if you listen to some of his other tracks it’s even more obvious. (‘After the Fall’ is particularly notable! And very fun.)

These are pretty randomly selected, but they do give a pretty great – and funny – overview of how genre in the 1970s started exploding. The full results of this don’t play out until the 80s and 90s, but this is the start of it! We got our early synths, our longer tracks, multitracking getting easier, electronic music getting some steam behind it, club music, and funk music influencing everything.

Next time on Genrefvckery: most unexpectedly good genre-fusions!