|
Reviews:
While not
technically a biography, this is the story of Timothy Plowman, a
young ethnobotanist who died while looking for medicinal plants in
the South American rain forests. The author, who explored with
Plowman in 1974 and 1975, tells a vivid story of adventure,
Amerindian culture, and, to a lesser extent, the social and
political climate surrounding Harvard in the 1960s and 1970s.
Plowman was the brilliant protg of Richard Evans Schultes, one of
the world's leading authorities on hallucinogenic plants and the
Amazon rain forest. The author mixes the backgrounds and travels of
the two men with sociology of South American tribes and their sacred
plants. Because use of hallucinogenic plants is described, this is
not a book for young people. For adults, it's a fascinating story of
ethnobotanical exploration and an excellent real-life tale of
science out of the laboratory, and only peripherally the sad story
of a brilliant life lost to AIDS (Plowman contracted the disease as
a result of pretrip inoculations). It also reveals the effects of
development on the dwindling rain forests and their endangered
cultures. Recommended for large collections.Laura E. Lipton,
Center for Urban Horticulture, Seattle
The book is
hagiographic, a rarity nowadays. But unqualified praise is
acceptable for someone so admirable and peerless {as Mr. Schultes}.
. . . Mr. Davis does full justice to his mentor. An excellent
botanist, he learned from Mr. Schultes and Plowman to gain the
confidence of shamans and medicine men, to record their mythology
and rituals and to experience days of mind-blowing trips and
retching nausea--all in the name of science. He writes
magnificently,with verve when describing his many adventurous field
trips, accurately and efficiently when telling science or history,
and with vivid fantasy when portraying hallucinogenic trances. - From
John Hemming - The New York Times Book Review
The
prodigious biological and cultural riches of the vast Amazon rain
forest are being lost at a horrendous rate, according to the author,
often without yielding their secrets to the Western world. During
his years in the South American jungle, ethnobotanist Davis (The
Serpent and the Rainbow) has done much to preserve some of these
treasures. He tells two entwined tales herehis own explorations in
the '70s and those of his mentor, the great Harvard ethnobotanist
Richard Evans Schultes, beginning in the '30s. Both men have been
particularly interested in the psychoactive and medicinal properties
of the plants of the Amazon basin and approach their subject with a
reverence for the cultural context in which the plants are used. The
contrasting experiences of two explorers, a mere generation apart,
starkly demonstrates how much has already been destroyed in the rain
forest. Although Schultes probably knew more about Amazonian plants
than any Western scientist, he was constantly learning of new ones
and new uses for them from native experts. Davis graphically
describes the brutal clash of cultures from Columbian times to the
present, often so devastating for indigenous peoples, that has
defined this region. At times humorous, at times depressing, this is
a consistently enlightening and thought-provoking study. Photos not
seen by PW. (Sept.)
- Publishers Weekly
A fascinating
narrative of the exploits of Harvard ethnobotanist Richard Evans
Schultes, interwoven with the much more benign adventure of his
student, author and ethnobotanist Davis (The Serpent and the
Rainbow, 1986).
Beginning in
the middle 1930s and for the greater part of the next two decades,
Schultes journeyed throughout the remote Amazonian jungle to study
the psychoactive and medicinal plants used by its indigenous
peoples. His discoveries—including the natural plant source for
LSD—have filled the annals of ethnobotany and helped kick off the
hallucinogenic era of the 1960s. Schultes survived beriberi,
malaria, frequent capsizings, and airplane accidents. But perhaps
his most adventurous and sometimes dangerous forays were into the
psychoactive drug rituals of tribes located deep within the
Colombian and Brazilian rainforests. Schultes was recruited by the
US government in the late '30s to find and develop new,
blight-resistant sources of rubber, a project that was foolishly
abandoned, according to Davis, because of bureaucratic infighting
and ineptitude. Faintly echoing Schultes's saga is Davis's account
of his own 1970s expedition, when he accompanied the ethnobotanist
Tim Plowman to the Andean regions of Peru and Colombia to collect
specimans of coca and study its cultivation patterns; in the
footsteps of their mentor, Schultes, both men sample the
hallucinogenic effects of various potions, chew coca leaves, and
find themselves in some dicey situations on mountain roads. These
episodes are flavored with revealing histories of the brutal Spanish
conquest and the more recent but equally gruesome enslavement of
Indians to the rubber trade, and contain some sprightly written, at
times dryly ironic travel prose. But Davis's own experiences pale by
comparison with the main narrative and are interjected at seemingly
random intervals.
Although Davis might have been better advised to scale down, this
is an exceptional tale of 20th-century scientific exploration and a
rousing travelogue to places both real and illusory. - Kirkus
Reviews
Excerpts:
The idea for this book emerged in a moment of great sadness.
Timothy Plowman was a man of generosity, kindness, modesty, and
honor, and his untimely death at the age of forty-five from AIDS on
January 7, 1989, cut short a career of immense promise. A superb
ethnobotanist with an uncanny ability to gain the trust and
confidence of Indian people, he was the protege of Richard Evans
Schultes, the greatest ethnobotanist of all, a man whose expeditions
a generation earlier had earned him a place in the pantheon along
with Charles Darwin, Alfred Russel Wallace, Henry Bates, and his own
hero, the indefatigable English botantist and explorer Richard
Spruce.
Twelve days after Tim's death a memorial service was held at the
Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago. ... Tim's death was
especially difficult for Schultes, who in his wisdom understood that
the student is as important as the teacher in the lineage of
knowledge. The people in the chapel. botanists and friends, sat
quietly as his tired voice came over the speakers. He ended with the
famous lines from Hamlet: Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet
prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. It was then, as
I stood at the podium, that I decided to write a book that would
tell the story of these two remarkable men. (page 11)
The daughter of a Connecticut country doctor and only twenty-four,
[Eunice Pike] had been living in Huautla for two years and intended
to stay for however long it took to master the Mazatec language. Her
goal was to translate the New Testament, a task she addressed with
all her time and energy. She had no interest in buying converts with
aluminum pots and modern trinkets. She was honest enough to know
that most conversions were shallow and ephemeral, less
transformations of the spirit than triumphs of expediency.
Once I tried to explain heaven to a young woman, she said, smiling,
as she poured Schultes a cup of tea. I said it was a beautiful
place, a place where there are no tears. She asked whether I had
been there. I said no. I explained that only the dead know heaven.
Then she looked at me with the saddest face. She said she was so
sorry for me. And she left almost in tears.
How strange, Schultes said.
It was only later I realized that most Mazatec actually claim to
have been to heaven.
With the mushrooms?
Yes. They believe Jesus speaks through the mushrooms, that their
visions are messages from God. What was it you called them?
Teonanacatl, Schultes said. Some believe it means *flesh of
the gods.'
In Mazatec, the mushrooms have several names. One translates roughly
as *the little holy ones.'
Have you ever seen them?
No, she said.
What about the effects? What do people say?
She held his eyes and for a moment said nothing. Then with a sign of
resignation she explained, There are things we know that we cannot
know. Christianity is a thin veneer over the lives of these people.
I've heard them singing at night. They always begin with the Lord's
Prayer. The leader will say she has the heart of Christ and is the
daughter of the Virgin Mary. But then in the next moment she is the
daughter of the moon and stars, snake woman, bird woman, whatever.
She smiled and began to laugh softly.
It doesn't disturb you? Schultes asked.
Yes, of course, she said, But, then, no. I mean, how can it, really?
When I first came here I complained about the use of mushrooms to an
old man. Do you know what he told me?
No, Schultes smiled.
He said, *But what else could I do? I needed to know God's will, and
I don't know how to read.'
They both laughed.
So how does one get the message of God to a people who seem to have
something far more spectacular and immediate than anything we have
to offer? She asked the question he had wanted to but hadn't dared.
With difficulty, I suspect, he said. What do the padres say?
Oh, the Catholics have it even worse. It's hard enough to translate
the meaning of the Last Supper, but the Eucharist! Compared to the
mushrooms, bread and wine must seem rather tame.
Schultes laughed once more. What an extraordinary woman, he thought
a missionary who could laugh, one who could love God without hating
people.
I once was waiting for an airplane, and I started to sing a hymn. It
was one no Mazatec knew. I had just translated it. Two of the women
said, Isn't it Beautiful! How lovely! It's just like the mushroom. I
turned and rather piously told them that it wasn't like the
mushroom. That God and Jesus were different. But they wouldn't
listen. Can you imagine what they said?
No, said Schultes, ready for anything.
They said, *We mean, wasn't it gracious for the mushroom to teach
you that song.' (pages 105-106).
CSP's
Entheogen
Chrestomathy entry for One River
Submit
a review of your own
|