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jk0323's review against another edition
5.0
wonderful story. very informative and an excellent reference.
encyclopedia's review against another edition
4.0
(I'll admit that I only read the Love Story for now, and skimmed the Chemical Story. I'll probably go back and read the second part in more depth later.)
While I usually like science writing and find psychopharmacology and the anthropology of psychedelics very interesting, I was curious about what I'd take from this book purely as a literary memoir. It doesn't *not* fall into that category, and I think that was a rewarding way to read the book. It's clear that neither Shulgin is a literary essayist by trade. This is particularly true of Ann, whose voice is sometimes gratingly childish and whose narratives can drag with too much detail. I had the exact same experience as another reviewer: some things she said drove me up a wall, but she's also responsible for (I think) some of the most psychologically insightful and transcendentally gorgeous parts of the book. Her writing on "the spiral" and her experience with peyote will probably stick with me forever. She is a fascinating character, and she writes herself as one, maybe not entirely on purpose.
Writing in the spirit of a trip report means the Shulgins are devoted to recording feelings and experiences with microscopic detail and bracing clarity, so some of my issues with the narrative come with the territory. There are still some individual essays that I think are some of the most gorgeous, surreal personal nonfiction I've ever read.
A lot of people will tell you to read this book because it's a valuable scientific resource, as well as an important record of the relationship between a specific time, place, and people and their use of drugs. Shulgin was/is a crucial figure in psychopharmacology, and it's wonderful that this book exists as a record of his work. But I'm here to tell you that it's also just a pretty good read! It is, after all, also a record of love.
While I usually like science writing and find psychopharmacology and the anthropology of psychedelics very interesting, I was curious about what I'd take from this book purely as a literary memoir. It doesn't *not* fall into that category, and I think that was a rewarding way to read the book. It's clear that neither Shulgin is a literary essayist by trade. This is particularly true of Ann, whose voice is sometimes gratingly childish and whose narratives can drag with too much detail. I had the exact same experience as another reviewer: some things she said drove me up a wall, but she's also responsible for (I think) some of the most psychologically insightful and transcendentally gorgeous parts of the book. Her writing on "the spiral" and her experience with peyote will probably stick with me forever. She is a fascinating character, and she writes herself as one, maybe not entirely on purpose.
Writing in the spirit of a trip report means the Shulgins are devoted to recording feelings and experiences with microscopic detail and bracing clarity, so some of my issues with the narrative come with the territory. There are still some individual essays that I think are some of the most gorgeous, surreal personal nonfiction I've ever read.
A lot of people will tell you to read this book because it's a valuable scientific resource, as well as an important record of the relationship between a specific time, place, and people and their use of drugs. Shulgin was/is a crucial figure in psychopharmacology, and it's wonderful that this book exists as a record of his work. But I'm here to tell you that it's also just a pretty good read! It is, after all, also a record of love.
courtneyskye's review against another edition
5.0
What a wonderful journey.
“Is it any wonder that laws prohibiting the use of psychoactive drugs have been traditionally ignored? The monstrous ego (or stupidity!) of a person or groups of persons, to believe that they or anyone else have the right, or the jurisdiction, to police the inside of my body, or my mind! It is, in fact, so monstrous a wrong that, were it not so sad—indeed, tragic!—it might be humorous.”
“Is it any wonder that laws prohibiting the use of psychoactive drugs have been traditionally ignored? The monstrous ego (or stupidity!) of a person or groups of persons, to believe that they or anyone else have the right, or the jurisdiction, to police the inside of my body, or my mind! It is, in fact, so monstrous a wrong that, were it not so sad—indeed, tragic!—it might be humorous.”
odinh's review against another edition
5.0
A must-read for anyone who has ever been curious about mind altering substances. I would strongly suggest that parts of this amazing work become mandatory reading in high-school and college classes throughout the country.
edsantiago's review against another edition
3.0
(Review applies to Book I only).
Quite the hodgepodge: memoir, hagiography, trip reports. Friendship. Political commentary, self-exploration and growth. Pirates. Swordfights. True Love. Two of those aren’t true.
It was informative, grating, fascinating, tedious. (Any similarities to an actual trip are purely coincidental.) (Or maybe not.) Part Two — “Alice’s” Voice — I found especially irritating. Much of it read like the Dear Diary of an infatuated adolescent. I had trouble remembering that this was a forty-year-old woman; I felt embarrassed for her. And yet: there are eight post-it flags adorning paragraphs I found particularly memorable throughout the book; all eight are in Part Two. When she writes about insights it’s like she’s in my head, putting words to what I’ve felt but never been able to describe. She spells out what a positive psychedelic experience can be like, how transformative and surprising and humbling. The quietly all-encompassing new awareness that fades in intensity afterward but never really leaves our memory. The dippy truths I would feel too self-conscious ever to say aloud except among a small subset of friends, those who’ve been there or who intend to go.
I’m not sure who I’d recommend this book to. It’s a long slog with a possibility of low ROI. I’m not really the target audience for this book and am not sure who is but should you—as a friend of mine—ever consider reading it, and want advice on whether or not to commit to it, whether it’d be worth your while, please reach out. Until then, remember that I love you, and that:
Quite the hodgepodge: memoir, hagiography, trip reports. Friendship. Political commentary, self-exploration and growth. Pirates. Swordfights. True Love. Two of those aren’t true.
It was informative, grating, fascinating, tedious. (Any similarities to an actual trip are purely coincidental.) (Or maybe not.) Part Two — “Alice’s” Voice — I found especially irritating. Much of it read like the Dear Diary of an infatuated adolescent. I had trouble remembering that this was a forty-year-old woman; I felt embarrassed for her. And yet: there are eight post-it flags adorning paragraphs I found particularly memorable throughout the book; all eight are in Part Two. When she writes about insights it’s like she’s in my head, putting words to what I’ve felt but never been able to describe. She spells out what a positive psychedelic experience can be like, how transformative and surprising and humbling. The quietly all-encompassing new awareness that fades in intensity afterward but never really leaves our memory. The dippy truths I would feel too self-conscious ever to say aloud except among a small subset of friends, those who’ve been there or who intend to go.
I’m not sure who I’d recommend this book to. It’s a long slog with a possibility of low ROI. I’m not really the target audience for this book and am not sure who is but should you—as a friend of mine—ever consider reading it, and want advice on whether or not to commit to it, whether it’d be worth your while, please reach out. Until then, remember that I love you, and that:
“Know that there is no safety anywhere. There never was and there never will be. Stop looking for it. Live with a fierce intent to waste nothing of yourself or life.”