This book is the culmination of that lifetime of work. Now under one cover are René's first two books Slow Motion Magic I and II as well as the never-before published Volume III. Additional routines have been culled from existing sets of Spanish language lecture notes and of course it includes René's trademark routine with three bread crumbs and a tea cup as seen on The World's Greatest Magic. All of this great material has been re-translated from the original Spanish manuscripts and with the assistance of video tape and live demonstrations, each routine has been completely rewritten. Finally, 225 line drawings by Homer Liwag were added to further clarify this wealth of material.

You will be astounded by the techniques that René has created which allow him to perform these miracles but as he never fails to point out at his lectures, "... it is possible to perform these effects with two hands as well." His theories on presentation and methodology serve as valuable lessons to all magicians. If you never perform a single trick from this book, Magic From the Soul still stands as an important work for those who are interested in magic as a performing art.

Not to be overlooked is the first chapter of this book; a short biography of René that is illustrated with numerous photographs. Here is a book to inspire any true lover of mystery written by a man who has earned the right to call magic an art. $45

A PEEK INSIDE MAGIC FROM THE SOUL

Not every magician is going to perform René's more difficult routines but there is no reason why every serious magician cannot benefit from his thought-provoking theories on presentation and the creation of magic. For that reason we reproduce here the introduction to René's Color-Changing Knife routine followed by a two short essays that we hope will inspire you to think of magic not simply as tricks, but rather as a fine art.]

MY PENKNIVES

Over thirty years ago, I had a conversation on the subject of penknives with my great friend, Fu Manchu. We reached the conclusion that the color-changing knife effect is too magical or too perfect. As a result, a skeptical spectator will guess the real solution, that there is a different color on each side of the knife.

In the decades that have passed since that chat with my friend Fu, I have reached several fundamental conclusions. At the beginning of the routine, you should have the knife examined without handing it to someone specifically for the purpose of examination. I have solved this problem by taking the knife out of my pocket and laying it on the dinner table. I then mention that my wife has asked me to do a trick, but why don't we wait until after dessert. The spectators assume that in due time, this knife will be used in a magical effect, so, they pick it up and look at it. You have made the spectator believe that it was his idea to examine your props.

If you can finish clean (with an ungimmicked knife) by leaving it on the table at the conclusion of the routine, you can further throw skeptical spectators off the track. Even if they don't pick it up at the finish, they will know that it was there if they wanted to.

As you execute the various moves, the knife must be handled as if you were not executing a series of predetermined moves. I sometimes spend hours playing with a gimmicked knife, twisting and turning it until the opposite side has been hidden for so long that I begin to see it as a normal knife. I believe that this kind of practice is the most efficient way to get close to what we all dream about, but that doesn't really exist: perfection. I say it doesn't exist because I am convinced that everything, absolutely everything, can be perfected further.

It's essential that the knife be turned over naturally and to achieve this naturalness, practice is essential. Everything should be done as if you were playing with the knife, at all times avoiding studied movements that a normal person would never use to show a knife. When a spectator witnesses these kinds of movements, even when they don't see anything suspicious, they will suspect it.

Besides naturalness of action, you must add nonchalance, relaxation and smoothness, all terms that come from Ascanio's list of precise technical words.

You must also carefully study the words that will accompany each move. The success of each twist and each turn is directly related to the effective marriage of words and movements. Your patter must justify your apparent nonchalant actions and convince the audience that they are seeing all sides of the knife without you intentionally showing it to them.

THAT WHICH IS SIMPLE

The human brain often complicates things. Fu Manchu told me that on one occasion he had the honor of performing magic for Einstein. He showed him his "Thief of Baghdad" routine and then asked the genius if he could explain it. Einstein's solution to this elegantly simple trick was the most complicated and impractical method you could possibly imagine. The actual solution never occurred to him.

Laymen already perceive our tricks as being complicated. There is no need for us to complicate them further. We should strive to offer our audiences simplicity. Let us not exhaust their minds with excessive words or motion. Let us retain the beauty of simplicity. This is our goal. Of course, arriving at simplicity is not easy; it is a paradox.

Beethoven based the entire movement of a symphony on just four notes. Perhaps you think that to accomplish such a feat you have to be Beethoven. You could be right, but at least we can strive to emulate him.

THE IMPORTANCE OF PAUSES

Every routine, act or performance requires appropriate pauses. They are extremely important, but how dangerous they can be.

I feel that the pauses in a magical composition are as important as those in a musical composition. Music is not just the art of combining sounds, it also involves combining silence. Every routine needs to have harmony as well as silence, which I will call pauses. If these pauses are not in precisely the right place, they will ruin the melody and harmony.

But... I repeat, they can be dangerous!

I have a friend who visits me occasionally, joining my circle of friends who get together to share a meal. Usually, after an abundant feast and generous amount of wine, in order to allow time to digest, the conversation is interrupted and there is a general silence. I am fascinated by extended silence; especially when in the company of true friends. We are together, we contemplate, we are aware of our shared affection and understanding- what more do we need?

Azorin, "The Style" as he was called, tells a short story about two friends who would get together every Saturday to play chess. They never exchanged a word. People around them enjoyed watching their silence as much as they enjoyed watching their game. One afternoon, one of the men arrived, sat down, moved the first piece and waited... his friend did not arrive. The lone player quietly began to cry.

Azorin recounts that his friend had died. Only in death did his friend fail him... and they never exchanged a single word!

A shared passion goes beyond words, and a prolonged silence is not disquieting when the friendship is deep. Keep in mind that our audiences do not share our passion nor deep friendship. They are only spectators. Out of respect for them, measure your pauses very carefully.

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