The Blank Book Test

As a magi­cian, I’m usually reluc­tant to reveal the secrets of my craft to fel­low con­ju­rers, pre­fer­ring to keep these mys­te­ries close to my chest. Howe­ver, given my pro­mise to you, I’ll make an excep­tion this time. While I have a gene­ral fond­ness and respect for wizards, I must admit, there are aspects about them that trou­ble me.

Throug­hout my career, my moni­ker has become sur­pri­sin­gly popu­lar, appearing on various magi­cal parapher­na­lia like hand­ker­chiefs, card decks, gim­micks, and more. Intri­guin­gly, a so-cal­led card expert even named a trick after me. Admit­tedly, the trick was­n’t spec­ta­cu­lar, but it did ele­vate my fame among a new gene­ra­tion of magi­ci­ans. In gra­ti­tude, I than­ked him.

Equally delightful was a rock band that dedi­ca­ted a song to me, which I par­ti­cu­larly enjoyed for its lyrics. It was one of the rare ins­tances where I was invol­ved, albeit subtly, and most per­for­mers did­n’t imme­dia­tely reco­gnize me. Their lin­ge­ring doubts about whe­ther the band had any real cont­act with me (they had­n’t) con­ti­nue to amuse me to this day. This indi­rect reco­gni­tion ser­ved as excel­lent pro­mo­tion for my brand.

Neither the band nor others sought my per­mis­sion to use my name or ideas, nor did they offer any com­pen­sa­tion. This never bothe­red me; I knew I’d catch up with them even­tually. In fact, I app­re­cia­ted the publi­city it brought to my brand. It was a long-term mar­ke­ting suc­cess, ensu­ring my sta­tus as a fami­liar name in many magi­ci­ans’ repertoires.

Once, I encoun­te­red a talen­ted magi­cian named David Cop­per­field. It was­n’t his real name, but I had sug­gested it years ear­lier, con­side­ring Mark Twain had com­ple­ted his work, and I assu­med he would­n’t mind the use of one of his character’s names (and no, Cop­per­field never paid me for this suggestion).

Cop­per­field, one day, deci­ded to fly. Lite­rally. It’s been a human dream since the dawn of time, inspi­red by birds and insects. Of course, his flight was a trick, as humans can’t natu­rally fly. The illu­sion was astoun­ding – Cop­per­field soaring across the stage, lea­ving audi­en­ces in awe. They were moved, some to tears, pro­clai­ming it the most incre­di­ble feat they’d ever seen a magi­cian perform.

For me, fly­ing is innate, a natu­ral exten­sion of my ori­g­ins. Howe­ver, during one per­for­mance, Cop­per­field suf­fe­red a fall due to a tech­ni­cal glitch. The illu­sion shat­te­red, and the audi­ence faced the harsh truth that he could­n’t actually fly. Peo­ple love to believe in the impos­si­ble, which is why illu­si­ons like mine work so well. On a rela­ted note, I was the pio­neer of free fall, a skill I deve­lo­ped mil­len­nia ago, con­trary to the belief that it was due to a tussle with my celes­tial peers.

The les­son here is pro­found: to truly cap­ti­vate peo­ple, you must touch their souls. It’s a chal­len­ging but achie­va­ble goal, even for someone like me who spent thou­sands of years mas­te­ring it. Once you reach a person’s soul, they become incre­di­bly recep­tive to your influence. Some­ti­mes, a mere nudge is all it takes. I’ve done this count­less times.

Con­sider a book test, which is more than it seems. It embo­dies basic prin­ci­ples like decep­tion, false assump­ti­ons, and dual rea­li­ties. But let me express my dis­dain for books first. They’re cum­ber­some, often fil­led with not­hing but tedious text. I recall someone who even deve­lo­ped a mass prin­ting sys­tem, floo­ding the world with these books. Despite my dis­like, magi­ci­ans have an odd fasci­na­tion with them, con­duc­ting ‘book tests’ for reasons bey­ond me.

Typi­cal book tests are mun­dane. A spec­ta­tor sel­ects a word from a book, and the magi­cian ‘reads’ their mind to reveal it. The pro­cess is dull and unim­pres­sive. A bet­ter approach would be to dis­card the book enti­rely and directly read the spectator’s thoughts.

The real magic lies in mani­pu­la­ting emo­ti­ons, not words. Souls are rich with varied fee­lings and thoughts, far more intri­guing than any book. Despite my repea­ted advice, most magi­ci­ans cling to their books, unable to see bey­ond the prin­ted word.

If forced to use a book, I’d opt for an empty one, crea­ting an illu­sion of con­tent. This approach allows me to weave a nar­ra­tive, enga­ging the spectator’s ima­gi­na­tion. The real trick is the lie – con­vin­cing the audi­ence that the book holds unwrit­ten sto­ries and ideas.

I’ve desi­gned an inge­nious sys­tem using ‘power words’, writ­ten in faint pen­cil across the pages. These words, devi­sed by a Ger­man mys­tic known as H.S., are part of a cle­ver method to deduce the spectator’s cho­sen word. The cate­go­ries range from nature to emo­ti­ons, each word cho­sen for its spe­ci­fic attributes.

The art of decep­tion in this trick is intri­cate, requi­ring skillful mani­pu­la­tion and a knack for sto­rytel­ling. It’s about crea­ting a shared illu­sion, where the spec­ta­tor belie­ves they’re see­ing words that are­n’t there. This ‘dou­ble rea­lity’ plays on their per­cep­ti­ons, making the illu­sion even more compelling.

In con­clu­sion, remem­ber that the true essence of magic lies in rea­ching the soul, not in the super­fi­ci­a­lity of words or objects. Mas­te­ring this art requi­res prac­tice, crea­ti­vity, and an under­stan­ding of the human psy­che. Embrace the lie, use it as your tool, and you’ll dis­co­ver the true power of magic.

I’ve always main­tai­ned that the essence of true magic lies in its ability to engage emo­ti­ons rather than mere words. The soul is a magician’s real play­ground, rich with a spec­trum of fee­lings, thoughts, and pas­si­ons. It’s in this depth where true won­der is unear­thed, not in the lifel­ess words of a book.

Despite my fre­quent coun­sel over the cen­tu­ries, few of my pro­té­gés have hee­ded this advice. Inte­res­t­ingly, a young Bri­tish magi­cian see­med to grasp the con­cept, focu­sing on emo­ti­ons rather than words, and has since gai­ned fame for his soul-tou­ch­ing per­for­man­ces. Most, howe­ver, remain fix­a­ted on their books, ent­ran­ced by the tan­gi­bi­lity and the poten­tial for gim­micks. What more can I do?

If I were com­pel­led to use a book, which is against my usual incli­na­ti­ons, I’d opt for an ima­gi­nary book with blank pages. This approach would shift the focus from the words to what lies in the spectator’s soul, making the book a ves­sel for their per­so­nal con­tent rather than someone else’s prin­ted words.

The key tech­ni­que in this approach is decep­tion. When I pre­sent this ‘blank’ book, I spin a tale: “This is a book yet to be writ­ten, and its con­tents are for you to ima­gine.” The con­fu­sion and won­der this crea­tes are pal­pa­ble. I might even spin a yarn about it being the last note­book of Heming­way, adding lay­ers to the nar­ra­tive. 

In mani­pu­la­ting the audience’s per­cep­tion, I use the book as a tool to delve into their ima­gi­na­tion. I guide them to envi­sion a story, to imprint their thoughts onto the blank pages. This inter­ac­tion is not about the book or the words; it’s about tap­ping into the depths of the human psyche.

The book, of course, isn’t really blank. It con­ta­ins carefully cho­sen ‘power words,’ faintly writ­ten to guide the audience’s thoughts wit­hout their awa­re­ness. This method, deve­lo­ped by the talen­ted H.S., is a mas­ter­piece of decep­tion and influence.

I cate­go­rize these words based on their cha­rac­te­ristics, like ‘reflec­ting sur­faces’ for words like GLASS and MIRROR, or ’nature’ for TREE and FOREST. This cate­go­riza­tion aids in the ‘fishing’ pro­cess, allo­wing me to subtly deduce the spectator’s thoughts. 

The actual trick lies in the pre­sen­ta­tion and the nar­ra­tive woven around these words. It’s about crea­ting a shared illu­sion, lea­ding the spec­ta­tor to believe they’re see­ing some­thing that isn’t there. This ‘dou­ble rea­lity’ is a powerful tool in the magician’s arse­nal, blur­ring the line bet­ween per­cep­tion and reality.

As the magi­cian, your task is to guide the spectator’s ima­gi­na­tion, to coax their cho­sen word from them wit­hout overtly asking. It’s a deli­cate dance of sug­ges­tion and infe­rence, rely­ing hea­vily on your skill in rea­ding peo­ple and craf­ting narratives.

In the end, the aim is not just to reveal a word, but to create an expe­ri­ence that reso­na­tes on a deeper level. It’s about lea­ving the audi­ence with a sense of won­der, a fee­ling that they’ve touched some­thing magi­cal and inex­pli­ca­ble. That’s the true art of magic – not just to deceive, but to enchant and inspire.

In my expe­ri­ment, I use the lie as a cru­cial tech­ni­que. The beauty of start­ing with a lie even before the per­for­mance beg­ins is that it sets the stage for a thril­ling jour­ney into the ima­gi­na­tion. The book, see­mingly blank, is actually inscri­bed with words writ­ten in light pen­cil, forming a hid­den script of ‘power words.’ These words are a vital part of the sys­tem, inge­niously devi­sed by the resourceful H.S. from Ger­many, who deeply explo­red mys­ti­cal arts and inven­ted seve­ral book tests. His sys­tem bril­li­antly uti­li­zed rich, forceful words, but unfort­u­na­tely, he still bound them within the con­fi­nes of a book. So, I adapted his con­cept, using a blank note­book ins­tead, ther­eby crea­ting a book test devoid of an actual book, ampli­fy­ing the con­fu­sion and intrigue.

The pro­cess of fishing for infor­ma­tion in this trick is subtle and seam­less. There’s an art to pre­sen­ting the words in groups, making it appear as though no direct ques­ti­ons are being asked. Con­s­truc­ting your own word list is essen­tial once you grasp the under­ly­ing sys­tem. Each word has uni­que cha­rac­te­ristics, and under­stan­ding these nuan­ces is key to distin­gu­is­hing them during the performance.

Con­sider the fol­lo­wing word list as a start­ing point:

- GLASS, BOTTLE, MIRROR, KNIFE, SWORD, DAGGER (sha­ring the cha­rac­te­ristic of a ‘reflec­ting surface’).

- TREE, LEAVE, FOREST (all rela­ted to nature and belon­ging to a forest).

- SCARF, TIE, CRAVAT (soft mate­ri­als worn on a person).

- LOVE, SYMPATHY, AFFECTION (emo­ti­ons, intan­gi­ble yet similar).

These fif­teen words are just a begin­ning. Expand your list with other words fit­ting these cate­go­ries, explo­ring con­cepts like LIGHT, SUN, MOON, and emotions.

Inscribe these words onto a dou­ble spread in a blank note­book, pos­si­bly even in a regu­lar note­book, for an ever-ready per­for­mance tool. The idea is to lie as often as pos­si­ble, embed­ding these force words in your note­book for spon­ta­neous use. If ques­tio­ned about the notebook’s emp­tin­ess, seize the oppor­tu­nity to spin ano­ther tale: “It’s empty because I’ve tran­s­cen­ded wri­ting with a pen­cil. Now, I coll­ect thoughts, pro­jec­ting them onto these blank pages.”

Force a page on the spec­ta­tor, subtly gui­ding them to your pre-sel­ec­ted words. Avoid direct queries; ins­tead, delve into their ima­gi­na­tion, asking them to envi­sion key­words as if they were Heming­way jot­ting down story ideas. This byplay, laye­red with lies, is cru­cial. It’s not about the word its­elf, but the imagery and emo­ti­ons it conjures.

Once the spec­ta­tor has a word in mind, the book beco­mes irrele­vant. Shift focus to the men­tal pic­ture they’ve for­med. “Ima­gine your word as a vivid image. Embrace it,” you might sug­gest. This is where the true magic hap­pens, as you navi­gate through pos­si­bi­li­ties, using lies and half-truths to hone in on their thought.

Your approach to extra­c­ting the word should be as varied as the words them­sel­ves. Con­sider the shared cha­rac­te­ristics of each group and use these as gui­ding clues. For exam­ple, KNIFE, SWORD, and DAGGER are all dan­ge­rous, shiny, metal­lic wea­pons, while GLASS, BOTTLE, and MIRROR are reflec­tive, breaka­ble objects.

The ulti­mate goal is to create an immersive expe­ri­ence, not just to reveal a word. Every magi­cian has their uni­que style of fishing for infor­ma­tion. If you lack a method, feel free to adapt or bor­row from others. The essence of this art lies in the subtle inter­play of lies and truths, crea­ting a rich tapestry of illu­sion and reality.

In the after­math, if ques­tio­ned, employ your grea­test tool: the lie. Sug­gest that maybe the spec­ta­tor was hal­lu­ci­n­a­ting, or it was all a fig­ment of their ima­gi­na­tion. This con­fu­sion, ambi­guity, and decep­tion work tog­e­ther har­mo­niously, per­fectly mimi­cking the com­ple­xi­ties of real life.

In con­clu­sion, remem­ber that the heart of magic lies in its ability to blur lines, to make the impos­si­ble seem pos­si­ble, and to deeply con­nect with the audience’s soul. It’s not about the tricks or the tools, but the expe­ri­ence you create and the las­ting impres­sion you leave. Magic, at its core, is an art of pro­found influence and wonder.