I don't remember how I heard about this book. I just knew immediately I had to get a copy. So I did. It was not an easy read. I'm an educated man, but there are words in this book that I did not understand. Hell, there were some I couldn't even pronounce. I looked up a few, came to understand others after further reading put them in a context that allowed me to draw some reasonable conclusions, and simply ignored some that I figured I still wouldn't understand even after consulting a dictionary. It was even more frustrating when I encountered entire sentences that might as well have been written in Swahili. For example -
"Ontological anarchism posits an aboriginal source of spontaneous variation..."
The sentence continued on but that's where I gave up. My point is - the book was not what I thought it would be. I was hoping for some first hand insight into the cultural shifts and various influences on society that shaped the decade which had a huge impact on me personally. Instead I got a deep dive into the life, work and psyche of Philip K. Dick, Dennis and Terence McKenna, and Robert Wilson. Those are the people the author gave credit to for the massive shifts in the culture of the time. I did have some interest initially in finding out more about Philip K. Dick since I was somewhat familiar with his work. I knew nothing of those others.
That's my problem with the book...way too much time spent on Wilson and the McKenna brothers, and not enough on Mr. Dick and his 2-3-74 story. (You'll have to look up the 2-3-74 thing. No way I can explain it in a few sentences, or perhaps even explain it at all).
My other problem is that I feel like the book was written for a very specific audience of academics and intellectuals. They were really the ones most affected and influenced by all that high weirdness. People who were not the intellectual type and not a part of academia...like me...were left to our own devices and had to figure things out on our own without the benefit of guides, gurus or mentors.
All we had way out here in the sticks were Pink Floyd, the Doors and Bowie. (You could add John Denver, James Taylor and Joni Mitchell to that list for some of us). We didn't have the luxury of traveling to some jungle in South America to meditate, experiment and explore the psychedelic mysteries of life like those aforementioned McKenna brothers. We were confined to our friends' basements and attics or an occasional road trip up the canyon. But we did alright.
I should probably offer up an explanation for all those colorful page marks in the photo above, since you've probably gotten the impression by now that I wasn't thrilled with the book. Those tabs mark observations, quotes or specific points that piqued my interest and warrant further consideration.
For example -
"...the weird does announce the appearance of something like anomaly, or at least deviancy---inexplicable, aberrant, or unsettling events or encounters that pull or twist against the norm. Statistically, such deviations may be perfectly routine. But they never feel that way. So we don't know where to put them. Many of us forget such events, or sweep them under the carpet. And by using the label weird, we acknowledge them, but also trivialize them."
Another one -
"This is how many of us deal with weird shit: in the rear view mirror, an unnerving synchronicity or deja vu can be relaxed by writing it off as a meaningless hiccup of neurons."
Think about THAT for a minute. As they say...deep. Way deep.
So, to summarize, it was a difficult read. Over my head often, but sometimes making a lot of sense and it did provide some good food for thought. Plus - it's the first book in which I can recall seeing the word desultory used in a sentence. I've seen it in a song title, though. But that's something else you'll have to look up if you want to know more. I'll give you a hint - the song is kind of weird.
Roger O'Dea 10/15/2019
