I wasn’t sure what to expect when I started reading this. I had heard/read somewhere that it was from the title of this book that The Doors adopted their band name, but aside from that, I knew nothing about it.
As someone who has always been curious about the effects of drugs, especially of the sensory sort, I was eager to find out what someone with Huxley’s credentials had to say about it.
This was a pretty outstanding exploration of the effect of mescaline, and Huxley’s description of the events he experienced are, for the most part, well-written and interesting. But the rest of the time, he’s writing like a rich, elitist tool. I have no time or tolerance for that kind of nonsense. If you’ve got something to say, say it, but don’t waste everyone’s time with your excess verbiage and shitty obscure comparisons. Maybe Huxley was the original scenester: “Yeah, I was experiencing things like this artist I know. This one painting in particular. You’ve probably never heard of it, it’s pretty obscure.”
The latter bit of the book is by far the most interesting ( yes—more interesting than someone recalling a mescaline trip ). Huxley compares drugs and makes a case for the recreational use of mescaline. He weighs the pros and cons, like any good scientist would, and leaves it up for the reader to decide, like any good author would.
He makes a few interesting observations about the nature of out-of-mind experiences and religion. He makes some good arguments for legalization. He discusses booze, Jesus and mescaline as openly and honestly as anyone would discuss paint colors or font choices. This is refreshing to see, especially for a book of this vintage.
Huxley writes like an asshole from time to time, but his level and honest exploration and evaluation of his experience makes up for his clumsy elitism.
Huxley’s discussion of various religions and their ritualistic drug use was interesting, but I feel that tomes more could have been said. That wasn’t the focus of his book, though, so he can’t be blamed. But the next time a Huxley decides to write a book about a trip, they should consult me first. There are very specific things I want to know, and curiosity incarcerated the cat in the US.
Huxley discusses booze and Jesus.:
“The modern churches, with some exceptions among the Protestant denominations, tolerate alcohol; but even the most tolerant have made no attempt to convert the drug to Christianity, or to sacramentalize its use. The pious drinker is forced to take his religion in one compartment, his religious surrogate in another. And perhaps this is inevitable. Drinking cannot be sacramentalized except in religions which set no store on decorum. The worship of Dionysos (sic) or the Celtic god of beer was aloud and disorderly affair. The rites of Christianity are incompatible with even religious drunkenness. This does no harm to the distillers, but it is very bad for Christianity.
Countless persons desire selftranscendence and would be glad to find it in church. But, alas, “the hungry sheep look up and are not fed.” They take part in rites, they listen to sermons, they repeat prayers; but their thirst remains unassuaged. Disappointed, they turn to the bottle. “
A little later
“The effective object of worship is the bottle and the sole religious experience is that state of uninhibited and belligerent euphoria which follows the ingestion of the third cocktail. We see, then, that Christianity and alcohol do not and cannot mix. Christianity and mescaline seem to be much more compatible.”
That may be, but I’d say it depends on which brand of Christianity we’re talking about here.
Westboro Baptist?
Meth.
Meth.
Branch Davidians?
Acid.
Acid.
We could extend this to non-Christian religions, but I think I'll save that for a day when I'm bored....
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