Books 13 and 14 of 2018

The very satisfying conclusion to an entertaining sci-fi/fantasy series. I've been thinking of re-reading some of the old-ass sci-fi I grew up just for kicks (Asimov's Foundation series, for example). But this took care of that craving.

The best sci-fi, of course, deals with social issues of the current era and projects them into a potential future. Here we've got racism and ecological meddling and the sort of re-sacralization of Nature that Terrence McKenna preached all wrapped up in a tidy bundle.

Oh you crazy moon, you took my heart...


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Carlos Castaneda learned this shit from Don Juan and it took like 8 books. Here, Don Miguel Ruiz distills it down and you don't need to eat peyote buttons or smoke some weird ass herb bag to get there.

Book 1 of 2018

I read some short fiction by Bell back in the 80s--I believe in the Best American Short Stories series? The stories were of an obvious quality, so I wanted to read his more dense work, and of course there was All Souls' Rising...a novel with some substantial accolades and strong sales for literary fiction, and which I purchased in a thick quality paperback.

But several in-person interactions with the author proved him to be such an irredeemable arsehole--we're talking sexist and narcissistic and borderline sociopathic behavior--that I returned my purchased copy of that novel without reading it. I usually do my best to separate the art from the artist, but in his case I thought "fuck that guy and his novels!"

But still, I imagine some day I'll read the Haitian trilogy because the era and the history fascinate me, and as many writers and artists have proven over the years, one can be a dickhead and still create lasting works of merit.

While thinking about re-purchasing and trying All Souls' Rising, I noted Bell had published a shorter book with a tantalizing blurb about shamanism and entheogens in the modern Southwest. I thought I would try this first and see.

Bell I imagine read some Terrance McKenna or Dan Pinchbeck and scored some online mescaline powder or psilocybin spores, or maybe he took a ride on the salvia divinorum express and got woke to the thin membrane separating reality from Reality. The forgotten youthful proclivities of his generation came back--he re-read Castaneda and after binge-watching Breaking Bad one weekend Behind the Moon popped out of his aching skull.

The novel is pretty good. The way the alternate realities bleed together and coexist is done with technical skill and efficiency. The characters are confronted by layers of consciousness and reality and dreamworld as the post- or hyper- modern becomes fractured in a way that allows the eternal to bleed through.

But is Behind the Moon better than the books and authors linked and mentioned above? Is this novel capturing something happening in the continuing dawning of Aquarius? Is it exploring new understandings of the perennial philosophy or the necessity of a return to the sacred?

No. I have re-read Castaneda, and McKenna, and Pinchbeck. I found nothing worth the trouble of re-reading in Behind the Moon. But it may lead you to fruitful research if you fall down its bear-haunted cave.

Both paths lead nowhere

Seth linked an interesting article about Carlos Castaneda from Salon--you'll have to watch an ad if you're not a subscriber. Sounds like Carlos was part G.I. Gurdjieff, part Charlie Manson:

In 2002, a Taos, N. M., woman, Janice Emery, a Castaneda follower and workshop attendee, jumped to her death in the Rio Grande gorge. According to the Santa Fe New Mexican, Emery had a head injury brought on by cancer. One of Emery's friends told the newspaper that Emery "wanted to be with Castaneda's people." Said another: "I think she was really thinking she could fly off." A year later, a skeleton was discovered near the site of Partin's abandoned Ford. The Inyo County sheriff's department suspected it was hers. But, due to its desiccated condition, a positive identification couldn't be made until February 2006, when new DNA technology became available.

Wallace recalls how Castaneda had told Partin that "if you ever need to rise to infinity, take your little red car and drive it as fast as you can into the desert and you will ascend." And, Wallace believes, "that's exactly what she did: She took her little red car, drove it into the desert, didn't ascend, got out, wandered around and fainted from dehydration."

Partin's death and the disappearance of the other women isn't Castaneda's entire legacy. He's been acknowledged as an important influence by figures ranging from Deepak Chopra to George Lucas. Without a doubt, Castaneda opened the doors of perception for numerous readers, and many workshop attendees found the experience deeply meaningful. There are those who testify to the benefits of Tensegrity. And even some of those who are critical of Castaneda find his teachings useful. "He was a conduit. I wanted answers to the big questions. He helped me," Geuter said. But for five of his closest companions, his teachings -- and his insistence on their literal truth -- may have cost them their lives.

I loved Castaneda's books as a teen--they were a keystone in the construction of the dissolute seeker I've since become. I'm not a bit surprised by these bizarre revelations. The distinction between sages and carnival hawkers is too often beyond subtle.

[Painting Mescalito came from Mars, literally]