A Certain Magical Index is a light novel series written by Kazuma Kamachi and illustrated by Kiyotaka Haimura. The series is set in a modern world where magic and advanced technology coexist. It follows the story of Toma Kamijo, a high school student in Academy City, a city filled with students with supernatural powers. In this world, supernatural abilities are categorized and ranked by levels, with Level 0 being the lowest and Level 5 being the highest. Toma himself possesses a unique ability called "Imagine Breaker," which allows him to negate any supernatural power. The story begins when Toma encounters a young nun named Index who is being pursued by various factions.
The Art of Ritual takes you through every step of ritual format from the basics to the more unusual. What ritual is, how to create it, work with it and all the different aspects and stages of putting a ritual together and how to get the best out of it whether you are a solitary or within a group. From set up through the entire process including the cake. this book covers just about all you should need to know to give you the best ritual experience. Drawn from the author's own teachings and experiences this book also shares a variety or different ritual scripts and suggestions along with those from members of her coven.
It is significant that the apotropaic markings of the Manchester-Crewe railway line were shown to Hutton by a novelist and mentioned only in an endnote. And there is no evidence that any active pagan religion survived anywhere in the island, in opposition to Christianity, throughout the Middle Ages, let alone longer.
The story begins when Toma encounters a young nun named Index who is being pursued by various factions. Index is in possession of a series of magical grimoires in her mind, making her a target for those who want to obtain the knowledge contained in them. As Toma tries to protect Index from harm, he becomes entangled in a world of conspiracies, conflicts, and magical battles.
Pagan Britain by Ronald Hutton – review
I n 2007, the novelist Alan Garner showed Ronald Hutton some curious symbols that had been carved on to bridges spanning the main railway line between Manchester and Crewe. They included erect penises, interlocking Vs of a kind often found in the hearths and attics of old houses, and prints of square-toed shoes of a design that was already obsolete when the railway was built in 1840. These markings – designed to ward off evil – were found wherever the structure had to bear the greatest strain.
Were the men who carved these symbols into the fabric of Victorian rationalism the heirs to an ancient tradition? Was this the visible proof that pagan practices could be traced back in an unbroken line to the witches of the Middle Ages and the masons of ancient Rome, who covered their monuments with sturdy phalluses as a form of supernatural scaffolding? In a rare moment of speculation, Hutton suggests that "there is some sort of connection to be made".
Historians should be "prepared to stand back and let the public dream its own dreams", Hutton says. Members of that public who venture into this dense, erudite work in search of dream-fuel will have many sleepless nights. But, for Hutton, flimsy speculation is the enemy of truth, and in this, it seems, archaeologists are almost as guilty as credulous neo-pagans. In fact, there was probably no "organised and self-conscious British pagan religion throughout the Middle Ages", instead witchcraft was mostly a construct of theologians and magistrates. And there is no evidence "that any active pagan religion survived anywhere in the island, in opposition to Christianity, throughout the Middle Ages, let alone longer". Hutton quotes the medieval scholar Nick Higham on the imagined influence of Anglo-Saxon paganism in Britain: "Archaeologists are capable of producing an almost infinite succession of models, each of which is more or less incapable of either proof or refutation."
Further back in time, this sceptical guide leads us into boundless realms of near-total ignorance. Some Palaeolithic images that appear to represent animals, women or the hypothetical earth goddess whom primitive peoples are supposed to have worshipped may be nothing more than natural lines in the rock. The Uffington White Horse might actually have been a cat or a dog. (Approached from the north-east, it looks like a prancing hen.) No one knows what it was made for. Like the bronze age burial mounds that were copied by antiquarian Roman aristocrats, ancient sites such as Uffington, Silbury Hill, Avebury and Stonehenge probably became unfathomably mysterious within a few generations of their creation. As for the causewayed enclosures of southern England and the North Sea coast, the most we can say is that they were "special places into which people could go for special purposes at special times".
Neo-druids who congregate anachronistically at prehistoric sites, turning them into gigantic car parks, may find Hutton's demystificatory approach sacrilegious. One of the austere pleasures of Pagan Britain lies in its frequent reminders that every age invents its own past, and that "it is impossible to determine with any precision the nature of the religious beliefs and rites of the prehistoric British". For more than a century now, one of the most familiar figures of the Celtic pantheon has been the antlered god Cernunnos. But the name, which means "horned one", is a modern reconstruction of a truncated name found on a broken slab under Notre-Dame de Paris, and we have no idea what the god represented or how he was honoured. Only with the Romans do the gods become comprehensible. The functional, specialised deities of Roman Britain, however, lack the mysterious charm of their predecessors. Does any sun-god worshipper visiting the Stonehenge campsite toilet ever spare a thought for Sterculinus, the god of manure?
Even with sound archaeological evidence, Hutton argues, it is hard to distinguish ritual from practical behaviour. Did henges and hill forts serve a secular or a religious purpose, or is the distinction itself a modern invention? Apart from a few references to comparative studies of "traditional" or "tribal" peoples, Hutton does not try to formulate a definition. Instead, he picks his way carefully through the scholarship, politely pointing out the remnants of demolished theories and refusing to take sides: "It should perhaps be emphasised that no intervention in this debate is made here"; "Readers may choose whichever kind of explanation makes best sense to them, or pick and mix."
The real subject of Pagan Britain – as Hutton says several times – is not the material evidence of ancient religion but the ways in which that evidence has been processed. Hutton writes as an even-handed observer of his own discipline, and it is here that most of the solid evidence of ritual behaviour can be found. He describes academic archaeology's complex etiquette, its sacred precincts and subterranean wars, in which scholars "launch … full-scale attacks" on rival interpretations. By this account, the discipline is not in a happy state. Some subjects are too "dangerous" to be tackled head-on, and many an obscure conflict simmers on in the endnotes.
This would explain why, in more than 400 pages of text on the elusive subject of ancient religion, fewer than six are devoted to "The Problem of the Druids". There is a wealth of contemporary information on the iron age druids. The "problem" is that even now the ancient druids continue to exert an occult influence on academic careers. It simply isn't "safe" to write about them, just as it used to be "dangerous" to mention the use of solstitial measurements in the alignment of tombs, temples, streets and roads. According to Hutton, the importance of the druids was "very much a product of Renaissance humanism". But if this is so, why were the druids outlawed by three imperial decrees? Why did Julius Caesar devote a long, detailed section of commentary on the Gallic wars to the druids, describing their education system and their scientific and political expertise? And is it immaterial that Diviciacus, the Gaulish scholar and diplomat who addressed the Roman senate, was a druid?
No analysis is offered of the many texts that describe the druids, presumably because this philological task is the prerogative of a different academic discipline. Even within the same discipline, according to Hutton, specialists in different periods "do not normally converse with each other". Nor do they appear to spend much time debating the research of academic tribes on the other side of the Oceanus Britannicus.
Long before the Romans, there were, as Hutton notes, strong and lively cultural and trading links between Britain and mainland Europe. Given the almost empty landscape of pagan Britain, the spectacular discoveries of French archaeologists are at least worthy of more than a fleeting mention. In the 1980s, excavations of iron age sites in northern France revealed complex wooden temples with ambulatories. "Hollow altars", aligned on the solstice or the equinox, contained the rotting remains of sacrificial victims. Other victims, including human beings, hung from the outer palisades.
Whether the bones were those of dead enemies or of honoured war veterans, says Hutton, "is anybody's guess" – but there is a great deal about these excavations that is known. No corpse-adorned temples have been found in Britain, but the peculiar subrectangular enclosures that do exist have been studied by European scholars, and it would be useful to have some discussion of their findings.
It is significant that the apotropaic markings of the Manchester-Crewe railway line were shown to Hutton by a novelist (and mentioned only in an endnote). They belong to "a flourishing world of early modern folk magic" that "has hitherto fallen between the disciplines of history, archaeology and folklore studies, and so been largely neglected by all". The sub-disciplines described by Hutton sound like the chapels of a holy sepulchre in which pedants take refuge from paranoid neo-pagans and from each other. No wilfully credulous lover of all things ancient and mysterious will be converted by this long and detailed survey of "the power politics of knowledge in the modern age". Hutton's portrait of institutional scholarship obsessed with its own rituals is in some ways more sinister than good old human sacrifice.
Graham Robb's most recent book is The Ancient Paths (Picador).
Further back in time, this sceptical guide leads us into boundless realms of near-total ignorance. Some Palaeolithic images that appear to represent animals, women or the hypothetical earth goddess whom primitive peoples are supposed to have worshipped may be nothing more than natural lines in the rock. The Uffington White Horse might actually have been a cat or a dog. (Approached from the north-east, it looks like a prancing hen.) No one knows what it was made for. Like the bronze age burial mounds that were copied by antiquarian Roman aristocrats, ancient sites such as Uffington, Silbury Hill, Avebury and Stonehenge probably became unfathomably mysterious within a few generations of their creation. As for the causewayed enclosures of southern England and the North Sea coast, the most we can say is that they were "special places into which people could go for special purposes at special times".
Along the way, he forms alliances with other supernatural individuals, including a powerful psychic named Mikoto Misaka, who is one of the Level 5 espers. The series explores themes of science versus magic, the balance of power, and the consequences of knowledge. It delves into the complex relationships between different factions and characters in the story. A Certain Magical Index has been praised for its intricate world-building, diverse cast of characters, and fast-paced storytelling. It has spawned multiple manga adaptations, anime series, and spin-off novels, expanding the universe and exploring different perspectives within the same world. Overall, A Certain Magical Index is a captivating light novel series that combines elements of action, fantasy, and mystery. It has garnered a dedicated fan base and continues to enthrall readers with its compelling storyline and thought-provoking themes..
Reviews for "The Representation of Mental Health in A Certain Magical Index Light Novel"
- John - 2 out of 5 stars - I was really disappointed with "A Certain Magical Index" light novel. I found the story to be confusing and hard to follow, with too many characters and subplots. It felt like the author was trying to cram too much information into each chapter, and it made the whole reading experience overwhelming. Additionally, I didn't connect with any of the characters because they lacked depth and development. Overall, I wish I hadn't wasted my time with this book.
- Sarah - 1 out of 5 stars - I couldn't stand "A Certain Magical Index" light novel. The writing style was choppy and disjointed, making it difficult to understand what was happening. The pacing was also off, with slow parts dragging on and important moments being rushed through. I found the premise interesting, but the execution was poor. The characters were forgettable, and the dialogue felt forced. I struggled to finish this book and would not recommend it to anyone.
- Mike - 2 out of 5 stars - I had high expectations for "A Certain Magical Index" light novel, but it fell short for me. The world-building was confusing and inconsistent, with new concepts and rules introduced without proper explanation. The plot felt convoluted, and I often found myself lost and struggling to keep up. The author seemed more focused on action scenes than developing the characters and their relationships, which left me feeling detached from the story. I was disappointed and wouldn't continue with the series.