The discussions on whether this book is fiction or non-fiction are rather futile, and prevent the reader from engaging with it more closely. I think a smarter move would be to suspend judgment on the matter, and look into what one can learn from this account.
The Teachings of Don Juan may be read as a bildungsroman where the narrator/anthropologist Carlos Castaneda engages with an alternative reality, under the strict guidance of Don Juan, on the path to becoming “a man of knowledge”. As a means to become a man of knowledge, he experiments with peyote, jimson weed and magic mushrooms. The book constitutes of Castaneda’s hallucinogen experiences and long discussions with his mentor, followed by a dull ‘structural analysis’. His vivid and lengthy descriptions of an alternate reality (which may remind one of Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha) challenge the bubble of perception that the narrator has been enclosed in. At the same time, detailed dialogues between the master and his student (perhaps the most significant ethnographic tool in the book) reveal the incommensurable, yet fruitful, understandings/misunderstandings that are inherent to this learning experience (see page 101 for a good example). Unfortunately, the final structural analysis does not tell us anything new, but reveals how anthropological knowledge may be constrained by attempts at academic interpretation.
We meet Castaneda on a bus stop, and this bus stop is the first and the last secular space that we encounter in the book. After Castaneda begins developing a relationship with Don Juan, his sense of space and time is challenged by the alternative reality that he becomes inundated within. He is still attached to the calendar, and notes the date for each of his diary entries; yet, his sleep patterns transform, his capacity to judge durations is hindered, and the reader does not care for the dates of his entries anymore. His movements in space cannot be coherently traced either: even though he seems to be spending most of his time on Don Juan’s porch, he may as well be flying away. After the first few pages, his everyday accounts become disengaged from UCLA graduate student life, and except for a few moments (such as when he thinks about Georg Simmel), the reader does not glimpse any trace of his prior history. In this sense, Don Juan, like Carlos Castaneda, is constructed as an a-historical character, and the reader does not learn much about the mentor other than his experiences with his benefactor. Rather, the reader develops an understanding of both characters in relation to their mutual learning process.
In this learning process, the narrator portrays himself as a curious young man, and suspends any judgment on the Yaqui way of knowledge. Even though it is not difficult to notice his New Age admiration towards his master, the starkness of his descriptions eliminates any sense of exoticism, and rather evokes an attempt at cultural relativism. Yet, it is important to keep in mind that there are only two characters in the book: the narrator mentions the presence of others in various instances, but does not pay much attention to such conversations. The ethnographic account becomes, therefore, an account of explorations within a particular alternative learning session where the anthropologist is present with all his senses, rather than an exploration of Yaqui culture, and it is this particular focus that makes this book so strong. The absence of any conclusion, or judgment, regarding the Yaqui way of knowledge directs the reader to read this book as ‘a path with a heart’ rather than a conclusive argument on shamanism, and perhaps brings the author to a different understanding of anthropology.