Anyone who reads the old ethnographic literature on Native Americans of the West will inevitably come across passages that describe the "shamans" who manipulated magical powers of healing, warfare, and other realms. Shamanism comes from Russian discussions of Siberian and Central Asian figures who derived their powers from dangerous visits to the spirit world; their bodies disassembled, their bones scattered, and then put back together, shamans carried back from their adventures extraordinary abilities that lent them great respect and authority among their peoples.
American ethnographers borrowed this congeries of characteristics to explain the healers--often also called "medicine men"--found in virtually all Native American groups. Compounding and building on this idea, and borrowing from work done in South Africa and Europe, a school of prehistorians has argued vigorously that the petrogylphs that decorate thousands of rock surfaces throughout the West depict visions shamans experienced during their journeys, many comprised of entoptic figures said to be universally seen by people in trance (triggered by repetitive drumming, dance, or psychotropic chemicals).
Nicholas Clapp's Old Magic. Lives of the Desert Shamans takes this ethnography seriously. In interviews, reviews of some scholarly literature, and a magnificent range of truly stunning photos, Clapp purports to offer us entree into the secretive, mysterious, and magical world of former and a few still living Indian shamans.
The trouble here is that the shaman theory of Native American culture has been thoroughly demolished. Whatever one makes of Siberian and Central Asian shamanism, it is very different from the social role played by the figures said to be analogous in Native American societies. In them the figures who've been called shamans are mostly much more properly called healers, many of whom--unlike the Asia shamans--are highly specialized, healing, for instance, only rattlesnake bites. As for the petrogylphs and their entoptic imagery, this too has been pretty completely discredited.
So the central thesis of Clapp's book cannot be taken seriously. It's a shame, because, as I said, the photos are truly extraordinary, and he has collected some stories from very old--and now, very few--healers of various tribes.