It is the 60s – yes it is magic, sex, drugs and rock and roll. In The Dedalus Book of the 1960s: Turn Off Your Mind, Gary Lachman uncovers the Love Generation's roots in occultism and explores the dark side of the Age of Aquarius. His provocative revision of the 1960s counterculture links Flower Power to mystical fascism, and follows the magical current that enveloped luminaries like the Beatles, Timothy Leary and the Rolling Stones, and darker stars like Charles Manson, Anton LaVey, and the Process Church of the Final Judgment. Acclaimed by satanists and fundamentalist Christians alike, this edition includes a revised text incorporating new material on the 'suicide cult' surrounding Carlos Castaneda; the hippy serial killer Charles Sobhraj; the strange case of Ira Einhorn, 'the Unicorn'; the CIA and ESP; the new millennialism and more. From H.P. Lovecraft to the Hell’s Angels, find out how the Morning of the Magicians became the Night of the Living Dead.

How did a decade that dawned with the Age of Aquarius end in Altamont and the Manson Family bloodbath? The 1960s were a time of revolution - political, social psychedelic, sexual. But there was another revolution that many historians forget the rise of a powerful current that permeated pop culture and has been a central influence on it ever since. It was a magical revolution - a revival of the occult. Previously rejected and ridiculed beliefs took centre stage, reaching the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, saturating the the hippies and flower power, hitting the big screen with Rosemary's Baby and the bookshelves with Lord of the Rings. The Tarot. I Ching, astrology, Kabbala, yogis, witchcraft, UFOs, Aleister Crowley. Yin Yang and the Tibetan Book of the Dead now became the common currency they are today. But the vibes went bad, the auras darkened. Did that darker undercurrent win out? Gary Lachman here charts this explosion, its rise and fall, and its enduring legacy --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

'Lachman's goal to write a book 'on writers who had killed themselves or had tried to, or had written about suicide at some length or depth' would be immense. To qualify, the author requires the suicide to be in some way 'interesting'. Thus we have the philosopher Philipp Mainlander, who killed himself because of the second law of thermodynamics; Zeno, who purportedly hanged himself after stubbing his toe on a turtle; and Yukio Mishima's sensational and bloody hara-kiri performance Suicides are arranged by type: Existential suicides brought on by metaphysical issues, emotionally rich Romantic suicides; political suicides; manic-depressive mortal coil shuffling a la Sylvia Plath; and the bizarre and often nonchalant suicides of many Surrealists. Lachman focuses on little known or forgotten characters such as Polish avant garde figure Witkacy; Thomas Chatterton, 'the original tragic Romantic genius'; narcissistic publisher Harry Crosby; and the tormented Austrian poet Georg Trakl. The second part of Dead Letters is a selection of writings about suicide whose real value lies in Lachman's research and his knack of smoothly relating obscure biographical tidbits and philosophical ideas. This work on a grim subject never becomes overly morbid and Lachman remains respectful of his troubled subjects. Suicide is not recommended, but this volume surely is. Splendid summary of self destruction.' Mike Pursley in Fortean Times

Writers have been killing themselves for centuries. From Petronius in ancient Rome to the 20th Century Japanese novelist Yukio Mishima, writers, more than any other kind of artist, have taken their own lives in an extraordinary number of ways. With bullets, poison, drugs and swords, poets, playwrights, novelists and philosophers have sent themselves off into the big sleep. Others, one step shy of that last exit, have made great literature about the urge to self-destruction. For the first time, Gary Lachman investigates the many links between self-death and the written word, bringing together an unusual gallery of literary greats and a host of other fatal characters. Typically for Dedalus, the covers gorgeous. Sasha Selavie in QX International Dead Letters ultimately proves to be at once stimulating and thought-provoking and the section devoted to various suicidal writings is most diverting. Peter Burton in One80 Reviews

Pascal Bruckner's memoir reads like a novel, a Bildungsroman which charts his journey from pious Catholic child to leading philosopher and writer on French culture.The key figure in Bruckner's life is his father, a virulent anti-Semite, who voluntarily went to work in Germany during the Second World War. He is a violent man who beats his wife. The young Bruckner soon reacts against his father and his revenge is to become his polar opposite, even to the point of being happy to be called a "Jewish thinker", which he is not. "My father helped me to think better by thinking against him. I am his defeat."Despite this opposition, he remains tied to his father to the very end. He has other "fathers", men such as Sartre, Vladimir Jankélévitch and Roland Barthes who fostered his philosophical development, and describes his friendship with his "philosophical twin brother", Alain Finkielkraut.A great read for anyone interested in the 1960s, the intellectual life of France and the father and son relationship.

The Decadence Movement which flourished in the 1890s produced some of Europe's most striking and exotic works of literature The Decadents, convinced that civilization was in a state of terminal decline, refused to rebel as the Romantics had, but set forth instead to cultivate the pleasures of calculated perversity and to seek the artificial paradise of drug-induced hallucination. The Dedalus Book of Decadence looks south to sample the essence of fine French decadent writing. It succeeds in delivering a range of writers either searching vigorously for the thrill of a healthy crime or lamenting their impuissance from a sickly stupor. --Andrew St George in The Independent

Bold and compact, this new biography of Carl Jung fills a gap in the understanding of the pioneering psychiatrist by focusing on the occult and mystical dimension of Jung's life and work, a critical but frequently misunderstood facet of his career.