Magic as Popular Non-Fiction Considered: Can Knowing Too Much Be Good For Magic?Inside MagicMagic News Updated Daily for the Professional Magician

Jerome Weeks of The Dallas Morning News reviews three magic books and considers the new wave of magic publishing for the masses.

His article begins with a neat reference to the "magic" of Penn & Teller's Bullet Catch in light of what a modern audience expects from performers.

In the past 100 years, Mr. Weeks observes, many magicians have failed to plan adequately and have died attempting to perform what some would call a "neat trick." According to Mr. Weeks, when Penn & Teller brought it to Dallas in 1997, they labeled it a "fun new trick."

But the "fun new trick" presented a very real risk to both performers.

Today's modern audience may or may not believe the real risk presented by the effect but they are willing to believe there is little chance to horrific failure. Perhaps it is that "little chance" that keeps them coming back. Houdini said, "no one wants to see a man die, but they want to be there when it happens."

The Penn & Teller story is best understood, suggests the author, when the reader has an understanding of magic's history.

Mr. Weeks selects four books from the bookstore's Best-Sellers list: Hiding the Elephant: How Magicians Invented the Impossible and Learned to Disappear by Jim Steinmeyer; The Glorious Deception also by Mr. Steinmeyer; Peter Lamont's The Rise of the Indian Rope Trick ; and Karl Johnson's The Magician and the Cardsharp .

We agree with Mr. Weeks' concern the new wave of books about magic's proud history will also take away some of the mystery and expose secrets:

It's not true, as is commonly believed, that conjurers never tell their secrets. A…

Jerome Weeks of The Dallas Morning News reviews three magic books and considers the new wave of magic publishing for the masses.

His article begins with a neat reference to the "magic" of Penn & Teller's Bullet Catch in light of what a modern audience expects from performers.

But the "fun new trick" presented a very real risk to both performers.

The Penn & Teller story is best understood, suggests the author, when the reader has an understanding of magic's history.

We agree with Mr. Weeks' concern the new wave of books about magic's proud history will also take away some of the mystery and expose secrets:

It's not true, as is commonly believed, that conjurers never tell their secrets. A little library research can quickly take anyone beyond the rabbit-in-a-hat guidebooks to such classic sources as Mulholland's Book of Magic. The Glorious Deception and Hiding the Elephant, both by Mr. Steinmeyer, Peter Lamont's The Rise of the Indian Rope Trick and Karl Johnson's The Magician and the Cardsharp: Whatever else they do, these books track the development of a single piece of stagecraft. To varying degrees, they are about the meanings of magic.

Mr. Weeks says no matter how much the public knows, it ultimately does not reconcile its "knowledge" with reality.

But like the nonexistent welfare queen driving her Cadillac, the nonexistent rope trick persisted as "real" for the public despite several debunkings. The appeal of Western fables about the "Mystic East" was too strong. To a degree, we want to believe there is a land where such magic exists.

Western delusions were also partly behind Chung Ling Soo's success. He was really an American, William Robinson, and his stylish act melded "Oriental" stereotypes, borrowed tricks and gibberish (even his name, Chung Ling Soo, meant nothing). Yet it made Robinson (or rather, Soo) famous.

But what might seem like harmless if mildly racist entertainment had consequences. There was a real Chinese wizard named Ching Ling Foo, and in a would-be showdown in London, he was trumped by Robinson. Robinson didn't know a word of Chinese, but Foo was now the fake. He never toured England again.

The reviewer praises (and criticizes) Mr. Steinmeyer's books for "what amount to rich, cultural histories of Golden Age magic. They both examine and evoke the feel of the period when the magic show as we know it grew out of vaudeville. But Mr. Steinmeyer, a professional designer of illusions, does use that wider frame as license to stuff in all sorts of anecdotes, tangents and profiles. Sometimes, as in Deception, to distraction."

Mr. Weeks suggests Karl Johnson's book on Dai Vernon's pursuit of the Center Deal "suffers the most from such padding, perhaps because it began life as a magazine story. But it also has an appealingly different, hard-boiled locale for magic: Depression-era Kansas."

The word "Padding" never sounds like a compliment when describing a book or one's waist. But here, Mr. Weeks seems to have enjoyed the "padding" if you consider "padding" to be the same as "atmosphere."

He notes Mr. Johnson's telling of the Vernon Quest shows:

these wizards share the same skills as the worst of low-life hustlers. Despite their mutual wariness, the two groups have influenced each other over the decades, and Mr. Johnson details many of the era's gritty cons and gambler's slang.

That's one reason, amid all of the wonders and trickery in these books, Cardsharp feels more down-to-earth. Not better, just different, almost noir-ish. Typically, the other three books sift through layer after historical layer of showbiz or myth to find what truly happened (or didn't).

Cardsharp tracks a legend – and finds that it was true.

We thought it was a great review of four great books. Check out the full article at The Dallas Morning News.