I rarely find myself so enchanted by a book that I lose time—real, tangible time—wrapped in its pages. But with The Sorcery of Solomon, I’ve not only lost hours, I’ve willingly surrendered them. And, myself.
This book reminds me of one of my favorite quotes:
“It is not the bloodletting that calls down the power. It is the consenting.” Mary Renault
I willingly gave this very alive book my full consent.
This book didn’t just call to me when I opened my review package from Red Wheel / Weiser.
It howled. There was a magnetic pull, a soul-level resonance that I couldn’t shake. And honestly, I didn’t want to.
Though I’m no stranger to Solomonic Magick or the Pentacles, Sara Mastros has made it all feel refreshingly new.
There’s a youthful glee, excitement and a bit of mischievousness in her voice, a breath of fresh air in her translation, and a groundedness (has this in common with Miller) in her knowledge that immediately sets her apart from anyone who’s come before—especially S. L. MacGregor Mathers, whose work, while foundational, has always felt a bit like reading under fluorescent lights: sterile, rigid, and heavily filtered through a colonial, Christianized lens.
Mastros, by contrast, opens the windows and lets the Spirits speak.
They are the Teachers.
She, a conduit.
A Consort.
Her take on the Key of Solomon isn’t just a better translation—it’s a reclamation.
She reaches into the text and returns to it what centuries of redactors and scribes who wanted to uphold certain narratives tried to erase: its spirit, its soul, its poetic rhythm. This is a book that lives.
The Pentacles themselves, often reduced to Occult collector’s items in other editions, are here treated with the reverence and intensity they deserve.
They’re not curiosities—they’re Talismanic technology. Tools of Sorcery.
And Mastros doesn’t just present them; she teaches us how to use them, how to understand them, how to live them.
It’s clear Sara is steeped in deep tradition, but she also brings her own lived experience, her scholarly drive, and her authentic voice as a Practitioner.
And Gods, what a voice.
I’ve followed her online for years, appreciating her wit, wisdom, and brutal, uncensored truth.
But this?
This is the next level. I found myself wishing I could just wrap up in a blanket, drink tea, and listen to her talk for hours. She could be reading a shopping list, and I’d still be captivated. I said that in my initial review, and I mean it.
The writing strikes this rare alchemical balance – it’s intellectual but approachable, wise but never preachy, Mystical yet utterly Practical.
Nothing about this book feels out of reach, and yet it’s layered with such depth that I know I’ll return to it again and again. I already have!
Even after my “reading hours” were technically up, I kept going.
I kept choosing to keep going.
And that’s the highest praise I can offer.
This book doesn’t just teach—it speaks. And it listens back.
For anyone on the path of Ceremonial Magick—whether you’re a seasoned Solomonic Magician or just stepping into this current—this book is essential. Truly. It’s not just a modernized Key of Solomon; it’s a living Grimoire for the contemporary Magician.
It’s proof that Solomonic Magick is not just alive but evolving and still deeply relevant today.
So yes, Mathers had his moment. But the future of Solomonic Magick is fierce, and it’s being led by voices like Mastros—voices that remember the past, speak clearly to the present, and dare to shape the future.
If you’re even remotely curious about Solomonic work—don’t wait for more reviews.
Just go buy this book.
It’s a gamechanger.
A breath of life into old bones.
I can’t emphasize this enough:
This book is alive.
The book you’ve always dreamed of? Sara wrote it.
She dreamed of it, too.
She brought it to life.
And we’re all better for it.
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The Nephilim Rising 