BROKEN PEOPLE

Can a weekend with a shaman help a tortured writer find inner peace?

Lansky follows The Gilded Razor (2016), a memoir of his misspent youth, with a work of autofiction that recounts the further adventures of a character named Sam with the same backstory. Neither recovery nor writing a memoir nor a move to Los Angeles has proved to be the key to mental health for Sam, who is so filled with self-doubt and self-loathing he can hardly leave the house or entertain a simple hookup. Fortunately, he somehow manages to attend a dinner party where he overhears someone say “He fixes everything that’s wrong with you in three days.” His rich friend Buck makes arrangements to take a course with the healer in question and offers to take Sam along. At first, he’s doubtful. “Is it problematic to work with a white shaman who’s like, appropriating the teachings and practices of an indigenous culture for personal gain?” Sam asks his best friend, Kat. “Definitely,” she tells him. “But life is a late-capitalist hellscape, so your mystical journey might as well be one, too.” The novel is strongest in its humorous moments. Sam’s experience on ayahuasca turns out to involve reliving in detail a series of messy relationships with men he loved in the past, which is not all that interesting, but it culminates in an intense spiritual experience which would be more compelling if Lansky had not chosen to call this a novel. Instead, we have an imaginary person healing imaginary damage with an imaginary drug experience, which seems to be a failure of nerve. To make this type of narrative interesting and meaningful, the psychedelic healing experience should be asserted as fact, as Ayelet Waldman did in A Really Good Day. If it’s all made up, who cares?

This fervent testimony to the healing powers of ayahuasca would have been more powerful if published as nonfiction.