Henri Michaux wrote a lot about his drug experiences, and in particular with his horrendously painful experiences with the grand-daddy of all psychotropic drugs: mescaline. I've never done mescaline so I can't compare notes with Michaux's observations, but nonetheless reading this account was a sheer joy. Michaux's scintillating prose gives the reader an unembellished yet thoroughly poetic account of the mind of a man who has experienced the supposed rapturous delight/horror provided by mescaline intoxication. The visions and hallucinations which Michaux amiably recounts will tickle even the most jaded drug enthusiast. The text published by City Lights in S.F. includes drawings executed by Michaux during his most feverish bouts with the drug. Recommended for those of you obsessed with the effects of hallucinogenic drugs on the literary imagination and artistic creation.
