This work is baffling, too large to approach in one go. It batters the reader with citations (over a hundred pages of footnotes alone!), hypotheses, studies, physiologies. It integrates broad categories of knowledge and experience. Ultimately, Zen is examined not in and of itself, but in light of its interrelationship with neurophysiology (Austin being both a student of Zen and an M.D.) - that is, what do these bodies of knowledge have to say to each other?
In fact, these two fields practically demand this treatment. Zen is a sort of science of the mind, a very old tradition having commonalities with mystic practices from all over the globe. Neurophysiology represents our current and best understanding of the mind's physical analogue, the brain. One would expect that deep insight into the nature of consciousness-as-experience that Zen provides could inform our physiological search for mind-brain correlations. This is precisely Austin's project.
Austin acknowledges the reality and validity of personal conscious experience, while simultaneously searching for physical— that is, material— correlation in the various substructures of grey matter. This subverts the traditional materialist / idealist dualism, recalling Searle's ontology in which the distinction between mind and body is illusory.
However, this comes at the price of feeling that Austin has done some violence to the mystical nature of Zen. So much of Zen refuses to be talked about. Discursive thought would seem to push one away from the path of Zen, and here is Austin trying to categorize, analyze, dissect his absorptions and samadhi ?! The concept frankly disgusted me, at first. Why waste so many words on that which is utterly beyond words, beyond thought?
Yet it would seem Austin is genuine. He uses his experiences of altered states of consciousness to propose physiological roots in the dropping-off of sensations or the subjective loss of a self. For the most part, these are testable hypotheses. Sometimes he even gives a brief sketch of a possible experimental setup before moving on. Above all, this is a work of science.
A book this long naturally spurs multiple potential entry points for essays (which I jotted in the back cover as they presented themselves). In the interests of brevity, I'll mention just one:
Austin constantly refers back to animal experiments, as they form most of the experimental basis of neurophysiology. He describes experiments in which animals have "lesions" "placed" at various points in their brain, with resulting changes in affect, behavior, memory, etc. These experiments are taken to be interesting because we can draw correlations with human brains, human subjects. Yet when we look at how these animal subjects are affected by having their brains cut— overwhelmingly confused, pained, terrified responses— how can we simultaneously say that this applies to human experience while discounting the animal's experience as of no consequence? That is, we assume that the humans and animals have the same responses to the same brain damage, but only the human subject's experience is worth considering— the animals are to be used and discarded.
All in all, this book was top-notch for content but quite dry in style. The middle portion (section III) reads like a physiology textbook and can probably be skimmed. Austin's approach to Zen feels clinical, western, use-oriented, but he apparently has gotten the point. Despite these gripes, I rate this book highly for presenting a strong case for a new science, introducing new readers to Zen in a scientifically sympathetic approach, and for addressing The Question.