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A Short, Strange Trip: An Untold Story of Magic Mushrooms, Madness, and a Search for the Meaning of Life in the Amazon
Tag along with clever guide John O'Connor as he leads us on a gonzo journey through the history of psychedelics, the Amazon rainforest, and into the cosmic dimensions of our own minds. This will be the trip of a lifetime.
- GenresNonfictionHistory
368 pages, Hardcover
Published April 14, 2026
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April 26, 2026
Many thanks to Sourcebooks and NetGalley for the advanced copy of John O’Connor’s fascinating exploratory book about the life of psychonaut Terrence McKenna, A Short Strange Trip: An Untold Story of Magic Mushrooms, Madness, and a Search for the Meaning of Life in the Amazon. This was a fascinating book that is hard to categorize as it covers travel and adventure writing, which are O’Connor’s specialty, but it also includes elements of biography, memoir, and critical analysis of areas like mental health care, pharmacology, history, indigenous rights, and equity. In fact, I was surprised at the scope of the book’s various topics, but it does somewhat mirror the life and wandering (or maybe wondering) focus of Terrence McKenna, a man who was neither a scientist nor a philosopher, but seemed to have an impact on mycology, psychedelics, and even rave culture in the 90s before his untimely death at age 53 in 2000. I first learned about McKenna from Michael Pollan’s book How to Change Your Mind, where the esteemed food writer explores the history and influence of psychedelics, especially mushrooms. I remember the surprise that I hadn’t heard of McKenna before since he was an advocate for magic mushrooms who proselytized their use for finding deeper spiritual and philosophical meaning in life. McKenna had a fascinating life which included a trip to the Amazon in the early 70s chasing psychedelic plant medicine indigenous people have used for some time, but without much understanding of the history, reasons or cultural aspects of the uses. O’Connor’s book paints a detailed portrait of McKenna’s complications, raising questions of cultural appropriation, questioning whether McKenna’s intentions were genuine or whether he was just looking to continue exploring psychedelics. Interspersed within McKenna’s story and pursuit of higher consciousness is O’Connor’s own exploration of psychedelic therapy for his father, a retired, ivy-league educated lawyer whose struggle with alcoholism has distanced him from his family. As a kind of last resort to help his father, O’Connor convinces his father to try some forms of psychedelic therapy, highlighting the ways in which psychedelics like LSD, magic mushrooms, and ketamine have been used to treat addictions and other mental health issues like PTSD. It’s one of the more heart-felt and humorous parts of the book, with a strangely funny anecdote about his father’s heroic, McKenna-sized dose of mushrooms that has explosive results. Nevertheless, what O’Connor’s research into McKenna’s life reveals is that McKenna’s advocacy for mushrooms may have been empty, despite maintaining a public façade of support. After a bad trip sometime in the late 80s, he did not use mushrooms for about 10 years, according to interviews with McKenna’s ex-wife and brother, Dennis. These interviews, along with others who knew McKenna like anthropologist Wade Davis present a picture of a talented and enthusiastic psychonaut who lived much of his life underground, prior to the larger-scale interest and emerging industries in psychedelics, yet was never accepted by the intellectual or academic communities where psychedelic studies were building a foundation in collaboration with areas like medicine, pharmacology, psychology, philosophy, and religion. McKenna was kind of a like a man out of time, preceding many popular trends yet maintaining a small, but dedicated following in a field that has been growing in prominence and popularity.
There’s a lot to like about this book, especially if you enjoy books about travelling and exploring the jungle, history, and psychedelics. I remember seeking out Burroughs’ The Yage Letters for some time to learn more about his quest to locate ayahuasca, and similarly enjoying the more recent book about exploring the psychedelic tourist scene in Ernesto Londoño’s book Trippy. O’Connor’s book focuses primarily on McKenna’s journey to locate a rare plant oo-koo-he, mentioned by another ethnobotanist, in La Chorrera, an area in the Colombian Amazon. Instead, McKenna, his brother, and some friends ended up discovering psilocybe cubensis, a mushroom that led them to conduct a psychedelic experiment. I give credit to O’Connor for trying to make some sense of McKenna’s experiment since it’s not really an experiment, but actually a trip that led to some strange insights. It’s unclear what initiated Terrence’s belief that they might be able to transcend his consciousness into another dimension, seeing the mushroom as a kind of vehicle capable of this transportation. I found it somewhat humorous. Although Dennis seemed to suffer a bout of psychosis as a result of the heroic dose of mushrooms, this experience launched Terrence’s career as a psychedelic explorer and cultivator of mushrooms. Interestingly, Dennis went on to earn a PhD in botanical sciences, and with Terrence, authored a book on their experiences cultivating psychedelic mushrooms at home, bringing this species into the US counterculture. I found this part of the book fascinating as O’Connor recreates the journey through his own experiences traveling the same areas around the Colombian Amazon. O’Connor not only creates a compelling travelogue and story of exploration for a region rarely traveled by many Americans. However, he also raises a critical perspective, noting the region’s infamy as a site of exploitation by rubber companies in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Frequently referencing the Belgian exploitation of the Congo and Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, O’Connor details some of the worst violence and butchery that the indigenous people of these areas faced from company bosses. O’Connor tells the story of John Brown, an American who ended up in this region working for a rubber company, who Terrence encounters. O’Connor’s research raises critiques about Terrence’s dismissal of indigenous ways while also ignoring or discounting the kinds of atrocities these companies perpetrated. It’s what leads to the more complicated portrait of Terrence, who despite being a countercultural liberal, nevertheless remained blinded by some of his own biases and ethnocentrism.
I really enjoyed reading O’Connor’s details of both his and McKenna’s journeys, separated by nearly 50 years. He paints a detailed picture of the jungle terrain, as well as many of the difficult obstacles and challenges that Westerners might experience trying to traverse this terrain for the first time. However, I also found myself struck by the kinds of observations and arguments about ethnocentrism and exploitation that O’Connor raises. Much like Londoño’s book, O’Connor also notes how the idea of psychedelic tourism has reshaped the region and created a new economy that most likely neglects or redefines the kind of plant medicinal work that may have been a staple for the region for at least a century. I also found it interesting that O’Connor posits that ayahuasca use may have been the result of some of the terror and trauma that indigenous people experienced, seeing it as a medicine to deal with the generational trauma that was inflicted by the exploitation of the land. It’s something that Terrence didn’t seem to consider, imposing his own ideas about shamanism and medicinal plants on the Amazon region, which eventually led to his “stoned ape” theory about the development of consciousness. Although it’s widely dismissed, O’Connor manages to speak to some anthropologists and researchers who acknowledge there might be some truth to the use of psychedelic plants and medicines by our ancient ancestors.
The last section of the book features a kind of psychedelic conference where Rick Perry, of all people, ends up speaking. It’s a completely surreal scene that O’Connor manages to detail with both humor and horror, raising questions about the inclusion of minorities in plant medicine and sharing their own perspectives about skepticism regarding institutionalized medicine. He seems to be saying that the rise of these kinds of alternative medical spaces, where psychedelics have been spilling over into institutionalized medicine, have failed to be inclusive and continue to exploit those who not only originated the practices (appropriation), but also are moving to a kind of commodification of these spiritual and cultural practices as a means to address our current malaises. It’s something that I need to consider more, but I found this section of the book to raise some of the most pointed and important questions that I’ve never considered about psychedelics. Furthermore, with the recent focus on Ibogaine as a drug of importance for therapeutic purposes, it is clear that psychedelics and plant medicine are moving more into the mainstream as both a vehicle for personal exploration and a means of healing past trauma. O’Connor’s book explores not only the complicated nature of psychedelics in America since McKenna’s experiment in 1971, but also the fraught history of exploitation and cultural appropriate of plant medicine for recreational and personal use, as opposed to more communal, spiritual activities. This book is hard to classify, but it appeals to many different genres, including memoir, biography, history, and social criticism. I enjoyed many parts of the book, and found myself amused by O’Connor’s frequent allusions, which seem to sometimes manifest out of nowhere. Nevertheless, he makes these trips both entertaining and emotional. I really want to check out his book on bigfoot (The Secret History of Bigfoot), which also sounds like it has its own unique journey and exploration. However, I recommend this book, especially if you are a fan of reading about plant medicine, psychedelics, and learning more about the fascinating life of psychonaut Terrence McKenna.
There’s a lot to like about this book, especially if you enjoy books about travelling and exploring the jungle, history, and psychedelics. I remember seeking out Burroughs’ The Yage Letters for some time to learn more about his quest to locate ayahuasca, and similarly enjoying the more recent book about exploring the psychedelic tourist scene in Ernesto Londoño’s book Trippy. O’Connor’s book focuses primarily on McKenna’s journey to locate a rare plant oo-koo-he, mentioned by another ethnobotanist, in La Chorrera, an area in the Colombian Amazon. Instead, McKenna, his brother, and some friends ended up discovering psilocybe cubensis, a mushroom that led them to conduct a psychedelic experiment. I give credit to O’Connor for trying to make some sense of McKenna’s experiment since it’s not really an experiment, but actually a trip that led to some strange insights. It’s unclear what initiated Terrence’s belief that they might be able to transcend his consciousness into another dimension, seeing the mushroom as a kind of vehicle capable of this transportation. I found it somewhat humorous. Although Dennis seemed to suffer a bout of psychosis as a result of the heroic dose of mushrooms, this experience launched Terrence’s career as a psychedelic explorer and cultivator of mushrooms. Interestingly, Dennis went on to earn a PhD in botanical sciences, and with Terrence, authored a book on their experiences cultivating psychedelic mushrooms at home, bringing this species into the US counterculture. I found this part of the book fascinating as O’Connor recreates the journey through his own experiences traveling the same areas around the Colombian Amazon. O’Connor not only creates a compelling travelogue and story of exploration for a region rarely traveled by many Americans. However, he also raises a critical perspective, noting the region’s infamy as a site of exploitation by rubber companies in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Frequently referencing the Belgian exploitation of the Congo and Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, O’Connor details some of the worst violence and butchery that the indigenous people of these areas faced from company bosses. O’Connor tells the story of John Brown, an American who ended up in this region working for a rubber company, who Terrence encounters. O’Connor’s research raises critiques about Terrence’s dismissal of indigenous ways while also ignoring or discounting the kinds of atrocities these companies perpetrated. It’s what leads to the more complicated portrait of Terrence, who despite being a countercultural liberal, nevertheless remained blinded by some of his own biases and ethnocentrism.
I really enjoyed reading O’Connor’s details of both his and McKenna’s journeys, separated by nearly 50 years. He paints a detailed picture of the jungle terrain, as well as many of the difficult obstacles and challenges that Westerners might experience trying to traverse this terrain for the first time. However, I also found myself struck by the kinds of observations and arguments about ethnocentrism and exploitation that O’Connor raises. Much like Londoño’s book, O’Connor also notes how the idea of psychedelic tourism has reshaped the region and created a new economy that most likely neglects or redefines the kind of plant medicinal work that may have been a staple for the region for at least a century. I also found it interesting that O’Connor posits that ayahuasca use may have been the result of some of the terror and trauma that indigenous people experienced, seeing it as a medicine to deal with the generational trauma that was inflicted by the exploitation of the land. It’s something that Terrence didn’t seem to consider, imposing his own ideas about shamanism and medicinal plants on the Amazon region, which eventually led to his “stoned ape” theory about the development of consciousness. Although it’s widely dismissed, O’Connor manages to speak to some anthropologists and researchers who acknowledge there might be some truth to the use of psychedelic plants and medicines by our ancient ancestors.
The last section of the book features a kind of psychedelic conference where Rick Perry, of all people, ends up speaking. It’s a completely surreal scene that O’Connor manages to detail with both humor and horror, raising questions about the inclusion of minorities in plant medicine and sharing their own perspectives about skepticism regarding institutionalized medicine. He seems to be saying that the rise of these kinds of alternative medical spaces, where psychedelics have been spilling over into institutionalized medicine, have failed to be inclusive and continue to exploit those who not only originated the practices (appropriation), but also are moving to a kind of commodification of these spiritual and cultural practices as a means to address our current malaises. It’s something that I need to consider more, but I found this section of the book to raise some of the most pointed and important questions that I’ve never considered about psychedelics. Furthermore, with the recent focus on Ibogaine as a drug of importance for therapeutic purposes, it is clear that psychedelics and plant medicine are moving more into the mainstream as both a vehicle for personal exploration and a means of healing past trauma. O’Connor’s book explores not only the complicated nature of psychedelics in America since McKenna’s experiment in 1971, but also the fraught history of exploitation and cultural appropriate of plant medicine for recreational and personal use, as opposed to more communal, spiritual activities. This book is hard to classify, but it appeals to many different genres, including memoir, biography, history, and social criticism. I enjoyed many parts of the book, and found myself amused by O’Connor’s frequent allusions, which seem to sometimes manifest out of nowhere. Nevertheless, he makes these trips both entertaining and emotional. I really want to check out his book on bigfoot (The Secret History of Bigfoot), which also sounds like it has its own unique journey and exploration. However, I recommend this book, especially if you are a fan of reading about plant medicine, psychedelics, and learning more about the fascinating life of psychonaut Terrence McKenna.
March 17, 2026
I quite enjoyed learning about the Terence McKenna's complexities and deepest beliefs.
I did hope for the actual amazonian adventure portion of the book to last longer; however, it still proved for a fun thought provoking read.
I did hope for the actual amazonian adventure portion of the book to last longer; however, it still proved for a fun thought provoking read.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
My thanks to NetGalley and Sourcebooks for an advance copy of this look at the life and times of one of the world's first first and loudest "psychonauts", one who blazed a trail in psychedelics and their history, a man of many problems, many complications, and what to make of his legacy, and how a broadening medical science can use these teachings today.
I have always had an interest in reading about the history of psychedelics their usage, the abuse, and what discoveries might await. These trips sound so life altering in many ways, mixed with dull stories and even a few scary tales of what the mind unlocked. I have always read these with a sense of awe and trepidation. My brain and i don't get along well. Haven't since I was young. Depression, self-image problems, those sort of things have always crowded my thoughts for as long as I can remember. I can't even imagine what a trip for me would be like. Nor what I would come back like. Reading about people just plunging into strange places, new worlds, without an understanding of the history, geography, even the language, looking for a root or a fungi, is just amazing to me. Crazy but amazing, and of course weirder than one would think. A Short, Strange Trip: An Untold Story of Magic Mushrooms, Madness, and a Search for the Meaning of Life in the Amazon by writer, traveler and educator John O’Connor is a look at the life of Terrence McKenna, a man who believed that true understanding of the world was possible, if only we could connect to it, to further understanding why we live they way we do, and to deal with the guilt that humans carry.
The book is a memoir and travel guide to the adventures, both physical and mental of Terrence McKenna, a guru in a way of psychedelic drugs to see the world, and to understand why humans are the way they are, and what might be guiding us. The book starts with young Terrance and his brother Dennis growing up in a very small town, in a family that was loving, but also tough. Terrence was a dreamer and one who didn't fit in a small town, nor it seems in much anything. Art was a love, as was creative thoughts about why we were, and what we could be. This questing led to travels around the world, and the ingesting of many odd things. McKenna wanted to travel South, to Colombia to find the secret ways and means of piercing the veil around us, and seeing the world around us. With his brother, a few friends, a weird semi-religious huckster, Terrence did so, being an ugly American in an area that had already seen much, but offering much to McKenna. Along with McKenna's explorations the book discuses, how psychedelics are being investigate by modern medicine, the authors own experiences, and the many contradictions and life after finding out how the world was run, at least according to what McKenna experienced.
A much bigger book than I expected. One that was surprisingly personal, and sad in many places. O'Connor is a very good writer, able to set a scene, and willing to tell the truth no matter how ugly things might get. O'Connor's McKenna is a complicated person, an explorer who cared little about the world around him, more concerned with the inner world. O'Connor looks at the troubles throughout history in this area of Colombia, complete with horrors I never knew happened dealing with rubber plantations to America's south. O'Connor looks at how these psychedelics can be used to deal with modern problems, alcoholism, PTSD, and offers a more realistic take on them than other books that promise miracles. Again, not what I expected, but really appreciated.
This is the second book by O'Connor I have read, and enjoy his writing, his honesty, and how he tells his tale. I learned alot, and found the book not just interesting but very emotional. Not something I expected, but one I quite enjoyed.
I have always had an interest in reading about the history of psychedelics their usage, the abuse, and what discoveries might await. These trips sound so life altering in many ways, mixed with dull stories and even a few scary tales of what the mind unlocked. I have always read these with a sense of awe and trepidation. My brain and i don't get along well. Haven't since I was young. Depression, self-image problems, those sort of things have always crowded my thoughts for as long as I can remember. I can't even imagine what a trip for me would be like. Nor what I would come back like. Reading about people just plunging into strange places, new worlds, without an understanding of the history, geography, even the language, looking for a root or a fungi, is just amazing to me. Crazy but amazing, and of course weirder than one would think. A Short, Strange Trip: An Untold Story of Magic Mushrooms, Madness, and a Search for the Meaning of Life in the Amazon by writer, traveler and educator John O’Connor is a look at the life of Terrence McKenna, a man who believed that true understanding of the world was possible, if only we could connect to it, to further understanding why we live they way we do, and to deal with the guilt that humans carry.
The book is a memoir and travel guide to the adventures, both physical and mental of Terrence McKenna, a guru in a way of psychedelic drugs to see the world, and to understand why humans are the way they are, and what might be guiding us. The book starts with young Terrance and his brother Dennis growing up in a very small town, in a family that was loving, but also tough. Terrence was a dreamer and one who didn't fit in a small town, nor it seems in much anything. Art was a love, as was creative thoughts about why we were, and what we could be. This questing led to travels around the world, and the ingesting of many odd things. McKenna wanted to travel South, to Colombia to find the secret ways and means of piercing the veil around us, and seeing the world around us. With his brother, a few friends, a weird semi-religious huckster, Terrence did so, being an ugly American in an area that had already seen much, but offering much to McKenna. Along with McKenna's explorations the book discuses, how psychedelics are being investigate by modern medicine, the authors own experiences, and the many contradictions and life after finding out how the world was run, at least according to what McKenna experienced.
A much bigger book than I expected. One that was surprisingly personal, and sad in many places. O'Connor is a very good writer, able to set a scene, and willing to tell the truth no matter how ugly things might get. O'Connor's McKenna is a complicated person, an explorer who cared little about the world around him, more concerned with the inner world. O'Connor looks at the troubles throughout history in this area of Colombia, complete with horrors I never knew happened dealing with rubber plantations to America's south. O'Connor looks at how these psychedelics can be used to deal with modern problems, alcoholism, PTSD, and offers a more realistic take on them than other books that promise miracles. Again, not what I expected, but really appreciated.
This is the second book by O'Connor I have read, and enjoy his writing, his honesty, and how he tells his tale. I learned alot, and found the book not just interesting but very emotional. Not something I expected, but one I quite enjoyed.
May 14, 2026
While I admire O'Connor's expansive and impressive intellect, this short strange trip left me wondering what the hell it was all about, and I suppose that is the point, that there is none, but that in itself is depressing. Is this a book about Terreance McKenna or John O'Connor? Hard to tell, and O'Connor freely admitting that his personality is mixed up (or in) with McKenna's doesn't make it any more of an enlightening or enjoyable read. Probably to phrase it in a way they both might appreciate, what a lot of BS.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews