It’s never all that interesting to hear about somebody else’s drug trip. If you don’t have the memory of it, it’s pretty difficult to communicate. Aldous Huxley tries to explain in his experiment with mescaline, or what the Native Americans call Peyote. He talks a lot about how incredible his senses are so that chairs and windows and books are all infinitely fascinating. But he didn’t have the sort of hallucination filled trip I was hoping for. All his speech was recorded during the experiment so he was able to communicate his mystical feelings for art as his ultimate criticism denounces things which are mere egotistic pretense and praises that which is pure art as such. I’m sure the trip was very meaningful for him, but describing it isn’t that fascinating.

What is good about the book is the last half which Huxley talks about the ways that people get high, and why mescaline is a good option although it has been demonized in America. He gives a really sound argument against alcohol as an escapist drug of choice and why mescaline can provide much more meaningful way for people to transcend the humdrum of reality. The narration of the book is read with a refined British accent and is good throughout.