I first encountered McKenna in a New Age bookshop in Brighton, whilst perusing for material to flesh out an essay on Shamanism I was writing. I came home with 'The Archaic Revival', which introduced me to ideas such as the Logos (a rather more funky formulation than the Christian use of the word), the Mayan Calendar and prophecies about 2012.
My humanistic psychology professor, Brian Bates, suggested that McKenna was rather difficult to deal with academically, but nevertheless I proceeded to give a talk on how I was starting to perceive that the Logos was gleaming out of the faces of the homeless on the streets of Brighton (in my case, my visionary awakening was due to rather large amounts of skunkweed being consumed).
I later read 'The Invisible Landscape' on a Buddhist retreat (inventing my own programme which supplemented meditation with copious amounts of time spent reading other people's books in the dormitory).
I had been aware of 'The Food of the Gods' for many, many years, but had avoided this book due to its explicit dealing with drugs (I had rather gone off them), though had lodged in my head a recommendation by a poetry teacher (Tom Sherrin) to give it a go, so a month or two ago I ordered the book, basically to get it out of the way.
I must say my perception of McKenna has changed now, and although the subject material covers all kinds of substances (most of which I abstain from now, but most of which I have experimented with in the past to various degrees), the writing style pleasingly mixes academic knowledge and language with a technicolour vision and writing style. I am very happy to engage with this kind of writer, who steers a multidimensional route between the dangers of a too dry, arid manner, and completely losing himself in gushy poetry.
McKenna traces the evolution of humanity's relationship with drugs, according to his own historical understanding, from our early 'archaic' roots, where he posits a polyamorous, tribal, cattle-rearing psychedelic culture, which was supplanted by a more patriarchal, horse-riding, dominator society. The history of the world becomes one not of class struggle, but of substance use and repression.
He is clearly down on our present-day reliance on alcohol, tobacco and TV and looks forward to a revival of the archaic period, where people, embracing a pluralistic, democratic spirit, will break through into a wider, better, more exciting and celebratory culture, in communion with a re-sacralised nature and awakened to buried dimensions of spiritual intelligence, whether in our own being, or that of elves, angels and so forth.
He ends the book with a manifesto and political blueprint for how to get there, which surprisingly, from my perspective, relies on taxation in large part. He would have alcohol and tobacco taxed at 200%, with more warning of their dangers, cannabis legalised, and the rest legalised a year later. McKenna thinks popular fears of the consequences of the legalisation of drugs are analogous to Establishment fears of the eradication of slavery or emancipation of women in the past.
On a philosophical note, one of my criticisms of the book is his insistence that the modern belief in the meaninglessness of the world, and also the belief that meaning is context-dependent, are both wrong. He posits God as a Wholly Other and presumably bearer of a fixed, pre-given Meaning, as revealed perhaps in psychedelic experience. I would suggest that, on analysis, it is hard to argue that meaning is not, to some degree, context-dependent, but I certainly have experienced an archetypal substratum to existence, that he may be hinting at, in which certain patterns seem to be playing out, behind the surface veil of people's lives. This would suggest that there is a structure that is pre-given, but the meaning attributed to that structure would presumably be constructed through an interactive process between the perceiver and the perceived.
So, for example, a tree has a structure and pattern behind it, but different people might interpret the meaning of it, in stories or art, depending on their own perspective and the context in which the tree was presented. The World Tree or Axis Mundi is a common motif in mythological sequences, from Norse tales of Odin, to the awakening of the Buddha at the foot of the Bodhi tree, to the crucifixion of Christ which takes him down into hell and then up into heaven, spanning a vertical spectrum of consciousness - all use a similar metaphor to describe dramatic transformations and a vertical wooden presence, but framed in different ways according to the culture.
My feeling is that McKenna has been so seduced by the beauty of his own psychedelic experience and the rush of information received through sometimes overwhelming revelation (see 'The Invisible Landscape'), that he let his own academic rigour be swayed by the poetry of the vision. What we see, how we interpret what we see, and then how we present what we see, are three different things (and tricky, if not impossible, to tease apart the three). Brian Bates may have been correct in his warnings of McKenna's visionary glow obscuring a paucity of analytical thinking.
I would also query the pre-history that he talks about, as being a rough sketch of something much more complex and varied. These things are hard to prove, but no doubt, some of early humanity liked to get high, just as many animals do, whether by accident or intention. It must be a temptation though, to project experiences of post-modern psychedelic culture and aspirations, onto a pre-modern template.
On his treatment of more recent history, he doesn't really do justice to the dangers of psychedelic use, though he does recommend the establishment of a contemporary (neo-)shamanism which would guide people through their experimentation, and I wonder if his inference that intelligence services were hand in glove with criminal drug distribution cartels is quite as black and white as he states. Something I would like to research myself - I've often heard this accusation, and don't know to what extent it is true.
Finally, McKenna does not talk of other methods, some explicitly shamanic/religious, such as trance-dance, fasting or meditation; others perceived as more universal, such as art and exercise, to achieve 'altered' states of consciousness. These things may be used in an ascetic culture or as compliments to drug experience.
We are clearly moving into a more visual culture, a shift which has its roots in the development of photography and then film and TV, which has happened, as far as I know, independently of, or at least in parallel to, psychedelic use. The explosion in the 1960s of psychedelic use will have certainly fueled a momentum which was already happening, which has always been latent in the human psyche, and will have had periods of flourish (cave-painting, Dionysian celebration, Renaissance art), and then repression (Protestant smashing of the stained glass windows and insistence on scripture over sacraments, Taliban destruction of Buddhist statues, ISIL destruction of Palmyra, and the rest).
But I think McKenna makes too strict an association between the use of drugs and visionary experience. There are more ways to crack open the egg of consciousness than he gives credit to in his book, and I wonder if he is leading people down a hippy cul de sac/dead-head end, rather than relativising drug use into just one possibility for entrance into the Age of Imagination which he prophesies.
McKenna does deserve applause for his positive vision and affirmation of the value of expansion of consciousness. He is a pleasure to read and preferable to the YouTube videos which filter his rather nasal, monotonous psychedelic guru voice into your living room. A book which I imagine will be read for a long time henceforth, as different cultures work out their own balance on intoxicating substances.