The Necronomicon: Fiction, Forgery and Functionality
- alanbjones
- Jan 21
- 5 min read
The Necronomicon: Examining Fiction, Forgery, and Functional Magic
The Necronomicon occupies a peculiar position in the landscape of Western occultism—a grimoire that shouldn't exist, yet somehow does. To address whether it constitutes a "valid system for occult practice" requires us to navigate the tangled waters between literary fiction, deliberate fabrication, and the curious alchemy by which imagined texts can acquire genuine magical significance.
The Lovecraftian Origin
The original Necronomicon was never intended as an actual magical text. H.P. Lovecraft created it as a fictional prop for his cosmic horror stories, first mentioning it in "The Hound" (1922). In Lovecraft's mythology, the Necronomicon was the "Al Azif," written by the "mad Arab" Abdul Alhazred in Damascus around 730 CE, later translated into Greek as "Necronomicon" by Theodorus Philetas. The book supposedly contained forbidden knowledge of the Old Ones—ancient, cosmic entities indifferent to humanity.
Lovecraft deliberately crafted this backstory to lend verisimilitude to his fiction. He even created fake citations and historical references, a technique that influenced countless horror writers after him. Importantly, Lovecraft himself confirmed in correspondence that the book was entirely his invention. He found it amusing when occultists began inquiring about obtaining copies, treating such enquiries as evidence of charming gullibility.
The Simon Necronomicon
The situation became considerably more complex in 1977 with the publication of what is commonly called the "Simon Necronomicon," edited by an individual using the pseudonym "Simon" (later identified as Peter Levenda, though this remains contested). This text claimed to be a translation of the genuine Necronomicon, discovered in mysterious circumstances.
The Simon Necronomicon draws heavily from Sumerian and Babylonian mythology, presenting a system of ceremonial magic involving the invocation of ancient Mesopotamian deities reframed as Lovecraftian entities. It includes rituals, invocations, seals, and a "walking" or gate-walking system for spiritual progression through various spheres of power.
From a scholarly perspective, the text is demonstrably a modern construction. Its Sumerian terminology is often inaccurate, its historical claims are unsupported, and its synthesis of Mesopotamian religion with Lovecraftian fiction is transparent to anyone familiar with either tradition. As an authentic ancient grimoire, it fails every test of legitimacy.
Other Necronomicons
The Simon version isn't alone. Several other "Necronomicons" have appeared, including:
The "Hay Necronomicon" (1978) by Colin Wilson and Robert Turner, which presents itself more openly as a speculative reconstruction
The Tyson Necronomicon (2004) by Donald Tyson, which explicitly acknowledges its fictional basis whilst offering it as a workable magical system
Various other editions claiming varying degrees of authenticity
Each represents a different relationship between fiction, fraud, and functional magic.
The Question of Validity
This brings us to your central question: can a grimoire born from fiction constitute a valid system for occult practice? The answer depends entirely on what we mean by "valid."
If validity requires historical authenticity and lineage, then no, the Necronomicon fails absolutely. It has no ancient pedigree, no genuine Mesopotamian or Arabic antecedents, and no connection to any traditional magical lineage. Its claims to antiquity are false, and its Sumerian elements are largely window dressing.
If validity requires internal consistency and workability, the picture becomes more nuanced. Many practitioners report genuine experiential results from working with the Simon Necronomicon's system. The rituals follow recognisable patterns from ceremonial magic—invocations, banishings, and gradual progression through spheres of influence. The psychological impact of the imagery and symbolism can be profound, regardless of its modern origin.
From a chaos magic perspective—which holds that belief itself is the active ingredient in magical practice—a constructed grimoire can be as effective as any other. If the practitioner invests the symbols and rituals with sufficient focus and intent, results may follow. The Necronomicon, in this view, functions as a servitor or egregore that has gained considerable power through decades of attention from readers and practitioners.
If validity requires ethical soundness, concerns arise. The Simon Necronomicon, in particular, has acquired a reputation for being dangerous or "dark," partly due to its association with Lovecraftian horror and partly due to its invocation of entities reimagined as hostile or chaotic. Some practitioners report negative experiences; others attribute this to poor preparation or sensationalism. The text itself contains warnings about the dangers of the work, which some view as authentic magical caution and others as theatrical dramatics designed to enhance the book's mystique.
A Middle Position
My own assessment, drawing on both scholarly analysis and understanding of magical practice, is this: the Necronomicon is not what it claims to be, but it has become something nonetheless.
As an ancient grimoire, it is pure fabrication. As a modern magical system, it represents a fascinating example of how fictional constructs can acquire genuine magical utility through collective engagement. Practitioners working with it are not connecting to ancient Sumerian currents or Lovecraftian Old Ones in any historical sense, but they may be engaging with powerful psychological archetypes and potentially accessing altered states of consciousness through ritual practice.
The Necronomicon works best when understood as a modern creation—a deliberate construction that can serve as a framework for magical practice if approached with appropriate knowledge and caution. Practitioners should be aware they're working with a twentieth-century invention drawing on Mesopotamian aesthetics and Lovecraftian atmosphere, not an authentic ancient tradition.
For those drawn to it, I would suggest:
Recognise its fictional origins honestly
Study genuine Mesopotamian religion and magic separately to understand what has been borrowed and transformed
Approach it as you would any modern magical system, with proper grounding and protection
Remain sceptical of grandiose claims whilst remaining open to genuine experiential results
Consider whether other, more established grimoire traditions might serve your purposes better
The broader question the Necronomicon raises is whether authenticity matters more than functionality in magical practice. Traditional approaches value lineage and historical continuity; newer approaches prioritise results and personal gnosis. The Necronomicon sits uncomfortably between these positions—too fraudulent to satisfy traditionalists, too derivative to satisfy radical eclectics.
In the end, validity in magical practice is measured not by pedigree but by transformation. Does the practice change you? Does it produce the results you seek? Does it deepen your understanding of consciousness and reality? These questions matter more than whether a book's backstory is true. By these measures, the Necronomicon can be valid for some practitioners, whilst remaining deeply problematic in its claims and origins.
The paradox remains: a book that began as pure fiction has acquired a kind of reality through decades of belief and practice. Whether that makes it a valid magical system or merely a powerful collective delusion may ultimately be a distinction without a difference in the strange territory where imagination and ritual practice converge.
Alan /|\