Gabrielle Wittkop’s The Necrophiliac

ECW Press 2011 (First published 1972)

Gabrielle Wittkop’s The Necrophiliac isn’t the first book about a corpse fucker that I’ve read, but it does seem to be the most “lyrical”, whatever that means. Every review I’ve seen of this grim little novella praises the expressive nature of the sex scenes with festering cadavers. If I hadn’t googled the book after reading it, I would have guessed it was written by a weird 20 year old with a ponytail, but the author was actually a 50 year old French woman.

This book passes for literature because the language used isn’t what you’d expect from a piece of art about fucking the dead. Cannibal Corpse, one of my favourite bands since I was a teenager, have written many songs about necrophiliacs, and the lyrics to these songs would be my benchmark when it comes to this kind of thing.

Cannibal Corpse – Necropedophile (1992)Gabrielle Wittkop – The Necrophiliac (1972)
I begin the dead sex, licking her young, rotted orifice
I cum in her cold cunt, shivering with ecstasy
For nine days straight I do the same
She becomes by dead, decayed child sex slave
Her neck I hack, cutting through the back
I use her mouth to eject

Here I cum, blood gushes from
Bleeding black blood
Her head disconnected
As I came, viciously I cut, through her jugular vein
She’s already dead, I masturbate with her severed head
My lubrication, her decomposition
While I was sliding into that flesh so cold,
so soft, so deliciously tight, found only in
the dead, the child abruptly opened an eye,
translucent like that of an octopus, and
with a terrifying gurgling, she threw up a
black stream of mysterious liquid on me.
Open in a Gorgon mask, her mouth didn’t
stop vomiting this juice until its odour
filled the room. All this rather spoiled my
pleasure. I’m accustomed to better
manners, for the dead are tidy.

Maybe some of the beauty of Wittkrop’s prose got lost in translation, but the effects of the above excerpts seem almost identical to me, even if the execution is little more “lyrical” in the latter. Sure, Wittkopp’s passage contains a synonym, an allusion to Greek mythology, and a touch of irony, but it’s still puerile gross-out material.

Don’t get me wrong here. The Necrophiliac was a short, moderately entertaining read. It was fine; it just makes me cringe to see people fawning over it because the author was European and threw in some poetic devices. It’s still a gross book for horrible sickos. I reckon I liked The Necrophiliac more than the other dirty French books I read a few years ago.

The Necromantic Ritual Book – Leilah Wendell

wendell necromantic ritual book.jpg
The Necromantic Ritual Book – Leilah Wendell
Westgate Press  – 2005 (First published 1991)

Here’s a short and sweet grimoire of necromantic death magic. I was fairly surprised with this one. It’s probably the grimmest book of magic I’ve ever reviewed.

The first part of the book deals with “getting comfortable in Death’s presence”. It explains how the prospective necromancer must spend a night of contemplation in contact with a corpse. At this point, alarm bells were going off in my head. If this was just the preparation, what would the more adept rituals entail?

A lengthy portion of the text is spent describing how to make “a sculpted talisman for necromantic rites”, basically a physical body for a magical entity. Unlike the “anchoring base for an artificial spirit” from The Dark Arts of Tarantula, this talisman must be physically made by the magician; a Dungeons and Dragons figurine will not do. And unlike the Genies created in The Hallowed Genie, Wendell’s talismans must be composed of as much dead matter as possible. Oh, and they’re supposed to be life sized too, so Wendell suggests using an actual human skeleton as the frame. This frame is then to be covered in a thick paste of festering dead matter. Pulped roadkill and hideously rotten human remains are to be ground up with graveyard dirt for this task. Once this is done, the stinking mass of death sausage is to be wrapped tightly in a winding sheet that has been soaked with glue. This putrescent monstrosity is to be kept hidden, presumably in the shadows of the magicians house.

I mean, that sounds like the beginning of an amazing horror story, and I wonder if anybody has ever actually gone through with it. Imagine the stench. You’d probably contract all types of horrid diseases from in the process. Imagine having friends or family over and one of them finding your stinky friend. You’d end up in a mad house.

wendell necromancy angel of death
Ok, so after the creating a rot-golem section, I knew that Leilah wasn’t just your average witchy magician. She was clearly a real freak, but I was still a bit surprised at the end of the book.

In describing the culmination of an act of “high necromancy”, she explains that the magician will experience “an erection (in males) or sensuous expression (in females)”. She then instructs the magician, “At this point, do not suppress your desires. Give into them and follow their lead.” I ask you, my dear reader, how do you interpret that advice? It sounds very much to me like she is advocating necrophilia. In the following pages she seems to issue a solemn warning against doing so, but if you read this passage carefully, you’ll see that she only warns against having sex with a corpse if you’re not in love with death. She never says that it’s wrong for a true death lover to love the dead. Also, at the end of this book, there is an advertisement for another book of hers titled “Love Never Dies – The Journey of a Necrophile“. This book is described as “a collection of Leilah’s “personal” encounters with Death, via the dead.” It contains “necrophilic erotica, not for the squeemish” (sic). I found an interview with her in which she says that she draws the line at full-on intercourse with the dead, but she might just have been saying that to protect herself. Draw your own conclusions on whether or nor ol’ Leilah has ever ridden a corpse.

I didn’t expect the darkness and depravity of this book. I thought it would be a witchy manual for drawing magic circles in a cemetery. I’d like to read more by Wendell, but her books seem fairly rare, and I’d worry about ordering copies of her work to my house. I don’t know about the legality of owning necrophilia porn, and I’d be a bit apprehensive even looking up the details.

It just occurred to me that over the course of the past two weeks, I’ve published reviews of books on necrophilia, Satanic Ritual Abuse and Sadomagical techniques. I’ll be in big trouble if my mom ever finds my blog.