How can you write about psychedelics without having experienced them? You’d run the risk of coming off dry, clinical, and, not fully understanding them, as not really credible. But then again, how can you write about them after having tried? There’s no language, no way to communicate the experience to those on the other shore. Fortunately, Michael Pollan is up to the task, or at least I think so—I can’t be sure, because I’m on the same shore he’s on, and his book makes perfect sense to the me of today but I can never know if it would’ve to the pre-psilocybin me of ten years ago. His reporting—the majority of the book—is certainly objective and accurate. His personal experiences ring true, but I’m extremely eager to know if they make sense to someone on the not-yet side of psychedelics. If you are such, and you read this, would you let me know?

Anyhow, I’ve been struggling to review this book and am giving up. There’s no point. If you’re a Michael Pollan fan (which you should be!) you’re probably going to read this. If you’re curious about the state of the art in psychedelic-assisted therapy research, you’re going to read this. If you’re a policymaker, not that I know any of those, you should almost certainly read this because it’s informative while also refraining from the (dangerous) exuberance that can follow discovery: Pollan’s tone is enthusiastic but guardedly so, nobody wants another situation like the 70s. What can I add to the conversation? Go read it.