A collection of routines from David Gemmell's working repertoir. Difficulty varies from effect to effect and is in the reach of most magician.
A few years ago Eugene Burger introduced a useful phrase to Cardopia—one that partially describes what passionate card guys do on a regular basis: to overly indulge themselves in the "antics of the pasteboards." Antics is the apt word because it evokes other defining words: playful, fantastic, theatrical, whimsical…
Those who memorialize their personal "antics" realize the nature of their acts. They take notes. They experiment. They produce books that entail these activities. In David Gemmell's case, his creative foray into the intricacies and subtleties of card magic is an adventure. He believes such
books should be filled with "unexpected excitement," sudden turns, unforeseen outcomes, and intriguing discoveries. And he writes for card guys that share this enthused and discursive approach. Rest assured, David took the time to record—as diarists are wont to do—to preserve the findings of his personal journey. Therefore, consider this book his latest diary.
This diary invites you to take various treks, many covering well-traveled paths, plus the new ones David made along the way. Seasoned card guys will recognize several popular motifs—the Four Robbers, The Collectors, Fusillade, Overcast, as well as various Sandwich and Speller effects. Like most books of this kind, it is rich in combinatorial fare. New connections are made and cross-pollination rules the day. (Check out "Think-a-Card-Across Poker," which mixes the Princess Card Trick with Blindfold Poker.)
All in all, David provides 18 "adventures" for hard-core experimentalists and fellow travelers to play with. In addition, lots of credits are cited, which permit further investigation. Students can then track various "points of inspiration," "flash-points," and "jumping-off places" to round out their
education.
I love the ambiguity of the image of the cover. Against the orange-blazing background (which may be a glorious dawning), there is a man connected to a taut life-line. He could be rappelling downward. He could be preparing to bounce upward. He could be merely suspending in midair. Nevertheless he is clearly in the middle of something—something antic and adventurous. Perhaps this symbolizes the hard-core cardman's tacit credo?
This seems to be one of David Gemmell's guiding principle and the current diary now in your hands is testament to it.
So…I suggest hanging in there with him. Take the plunge. Consider the climb. Then report back to me.
Onward…
