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3.81 AVERAGE
3.81 AVERAGE
informative
mysterious
slow-paced
Frightening account of the dead rising up again. I keep coming back to this book and continue to find something new to be creeper out about.
adventurous
dark
emotional
mysterious
medium-paced
adventurous
challenging
informative
reflective
tense
slow-paced
adventurous
informative
mysterious
slow-paced
adventurous
informative
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
This book is an interesting melange: part popular ethnography, part travelogue and memoir, part history, and even arguably something of a novel (insofar as autobiographical and narrative writing is frequently and perhaps unavoidably fictionalized), it tells the story of the author's investigation of the pharmacological basis of zombification in Haiti, one that leads him into the world of the secret societies of vodoun, a religion much misunderstood and unfairly maligned by outsiders ignorant of its true practice and significance within Haitian society. This journey, both scientific and personal, is told with wit and elegance by one of the greatest anthropological writers of our time, one who knows how to keep both specialists and a general audience intrigued and entertained. This, as with other books by Wade Davis, is the greatest accomplishment of the book; he makes both the rigorous scholarly work and the adventures in travel and intercultural contact of anthropology available and relevant to a wide audience, a skill that other science writers should take his example to learn. The ethnography of Davis is the kind that I should like to write and is well-situated in a tradition going back to the early greats of anthropology, such as Boas, Mead, and Levi-Strauss.
As concerns the content of the book, a lesser scientist (or one merely interested in the pharmacology and toxicology of zombification) may have stopped their work with the discovery of the pharmacology of the zombie poison. The reader under the impression that that mystery is all that's of concern here will be surprised to find the case solved halfway through the book. For Wade, the discovery of the poison was only the beginning of the investigation--and one that on its own would be insufficient to explain the entirety of the zombie phenomenon, which, of course, is situated within a social and cultural context (secret societies and vodoun) outside of which the complexity and importance of the phenomenon cannot be understood. And to define and establish the significance of such social and cultural systems is, after all, the work of the anthropologist. This Davis achieves through gaining direct access to the secret societies of vodoun with the help of local contacts and friends, eventually becoming an initiate himself. Talk about participant observation.
At the end of the day, although this isn't a particularly scholarly text (again, it even strikes me as something of a novel, given its narrative focus and the undoubtedly many conversations featured in it which we can presume Davis more or less invented), it is one well worth reading whether you're an anthropologist, a student, or just an interested layman looking for a good read and a bit of adventure.
As concerns the content of the book, a lesser scientist (or one merely interested in the pharmacology and toxicology of zombification) may have stopped their work with the discovery of the pharmacology of the zombie poison. The reader under the impression that that mystery is all that's of concern here will be surprised to find the case solved halfway through the book. For Wade, the discovery of the poison was only the beginning of the investigation--and one that on its own would be insufficient to explain the entirety of the zombie phenomenon, which, of course, is situated within a social and cultural context (secret societies and vodoun) outside of which the complexity and importance of the phenomenon cannot be understood. And to define and establish the significance of such social and cultural systems is, after all, the work of the anthropologist. This Davis achieves through gaining direct access to the secret societies of vodoun with the help of local contacts and friends, eventually becoming an initiate himself. Talk about participant observation.
At the end of the day, although this isn't a particularly scholarly text (again, it even strikes me as something of a novel, given its narrative focus and the undoubtedly many conversations featured in it which we can presume Davis more or less invented), it is one well worth reading whether you're an anthropologist, a student, or just an interested layman looking for a good read and a bit of adventure.
Zombies! Death! Mystery! Haiti! THE UNKNOWABLE! All of these are perennially interesting to the whitest of the white - me, for example - and Davis' book, a tale of the search for potions to make and unmake a zombie, is no exception. It's interesting, but dryness (and occasional self-insertion) can make it tough going.
The cover of this edition is not a design which offers confidence in the book's contents. It features a screaming Bill Pullman and a coffin, a tie-in with the frankly shithouse film of the same name. The film that's loosely based on the source in the same way that I can loosely be called a virtuoso because I can play a three-chord banger as long as it doesn't involve odd barre positions.
Contents-wise, the book is pretty far away from the Craven flick. This is a well-referenced, yet mostly dry recounting of the author's experiences as he and companions investigated stories of apparent death and animation, most notably that of Clairvius Narcisse, a man who had sickened, apparently died (and was buried) and was later found wandering about, having been freed from servitude by the murder of a zombie overseer.
Davis's background in ethnobotany informs the bulk of the book: it's a cross between a student days memoir and an attempt to explain psychoactive anaesthetics to the layman. It's written with a bit of flair; while there's plenty of Linnean names to go around, there's also enough personal anecdote to keep it interesting. There's a bit of talking-up going on - a horserace cum dick-measuring contest is a bit too on the nose - but for the most part, it's a good read.
I had read a bit of the voodoo literature Davis refers to in the book - Maya Deren and Alfred Métraux titles - and so I wasn't that lost when it came to the description of the hierarchy of the loa. I'd also a little background on Haitian history thanks to the Revolutions podcast, so I knew a bit about Macandal and Toussaint L'Ouverture. I suspect that if I didn't know a little bit about these two things in advance, there'd be a bunch of wandering focus or yawning, as the passages explaining these items can be a bit dry, and possibly confusing.
Is it all a load of shit? Critics have failed to find evidence of the toxins Davis namechecks in the book, and there's been no further supporting evidence offered. At this point it probably doesn't matter if it's a load of shit: in the days of postmodern fiction, it could well pass for a well-researched tale, indistinguishable from the real thing. I certainly found that the book agreed with other non-fiction I'd read, so even if there's some gilding of the lily, it all seems to make sense in the politicised, occasionally fatally religious setting of Haiti.
I was left with a sort of dissatisfaction at the end of the book - there's a bit of "and then stuff happened but we can't tell you about it" occurring - but I'm glad I read it. If you're interested in voodoo or zombies but don't know much beyond Hollywood tropes, this would be a good introduction, without being quite as hardcore as other texts.
The cover of this edition is not a design which offers confidence in the book's contents. It features a screaming Bill Pullman and a coffin, a tie-in with the frankly shithouse film of the same name. The film that's loosely based on the source in the same way that I can loosely be called a virtuoso because I can play a three-chord banger as long as it doesn't involve odd barre positions.
Contents-wise, the book is pretty far away from the Craven flick. This is a well-referenced, yet mostly dry recounting of the author's experiences as he and companions investigated stories of apparent death and animation, most notably that of Clairvius Narcisse, a man who had sickened, apparently died (and was buried) and was later found wandering about, having been freed from servitude by the murder of a zombie overseer.
Davis's background in ethnobotany informs the bulk of the book: it's a cross between a student days memoir and an attempt to explain psychoactive anaesthetics to the layman. It's written with a bit of flair; while there's plenty of Linnean names to go around, there's also enough personal anecdote to keep it interesting. There's a bit of talking-up going on - a horserace cum dick-measuring contest is a bit too on the nose - but for the most part, it's a good read.
I had read a bit of the voodoo literature Davis refers to in the book - Maya Deren and Alfred Métraux titles - and so I wasn't that lost when it came to the description of the hierarchy of the loa. I'd also a little background on Haitian history thanks to the Revolutions podcast, so I knew a bit about Macandal and Toussaint L'Ouverture. I suspect that if I didn't know a little bit about these two things in advance, there'd be a bunch of wandering focus or yawning, as the passages explaining these items can be a bit dry, and possibly confusing.
Is it all a load of shit? Critics have failed to find evidence of the toxins Davis namechecks in the book, and there's been no further supporting evidence offered. At this point it probably doesn't matter if it's a load of shit: in the days of postmodern fiction, it could well pass for a well-researched tale, indistinguishable from the real thing. I certainly found that the book agreed with other non-fiction I'd read, so even if there's some gilding of the lily, it all seems to make sense in the politicised, occasionally fatally religious setting of Haiti.
I was left with a sort of dissatisfaction at the end of the book - there's a bit of "and then stuff happened but we can't tell you about it" occurring - but I'm glad I read it. If you're interested in voodoo or zombies but don't know much beyond Hollywood tropes, this would be a good introduction, without being quite as hardcore as other texts.
The Marriage of Heaven and Hell
Wade Davis has written an entertaining, at times profound, tale of his research into the zombi-phenomenon in Haiti. As an ethnobiologist, he has sympathetically brought together the country’s history and sociology, conventional medicine and pharmacology, religious ritual, and his own personal experience in a nail-biting narrative. Your typical swashbuckling hero has nothing on Davis - except perhaps a little self-effacement.*
What I find most compelling about The Serpent and the Rainbow, though, is Wade’s appreciation for the theological import of the uniquely Haitian way of life signified by Voodoo. That Voodoo is a religion is often challenged by other religions originating outside of Haiti, especially, for historical reasons, Christianity. But despite objections, it is clear that Voodoo has not only a central spiritual purpose but also a rather sophisticated theological structure. I’ll try to enumerate my reasons for this conclusion based on Davis’s observations.
1. Voodoo is intensely syncretistic. It absorbs almost every spiritual belief it encounters and transforms the original into an aspect of its comprehensive worldview.
2. Consequently Voodoo has no fixed doctrine or dogma. It’s expression in prayer and ritual may vary greatly and yet still be recognisable for what it is.
3. This absence of fixed doctrine is accompanied by an interesting association between symbolic ritual and physical causality; or, if one prefers, between the psychological and the material.
4. While it is without doctrine, Voodoo maintains itself through tradition. Its West African origins are evident in its vocabulary, ritual, and spiritual cosmology.
5. In Voodoo, while spirits of various sorts exist and affect daily life through their presence in material things or events, these things or events are not the spirits themselves.
6. Neither do various ritual prayers and actions cause the presence of spirits. Spirits are merely invited, often begged, to participate in human activities. It is a mistake to term ritual aspects of Voodoo ‘magic.’ They are the equivalent of what can be called psychic or spiritual therapy: “... the human form is by no means just an empty vessel for the gods. Rather it is the critical and single locus where a number of sacred forces may converge, and within the overall vodoun quest for unity it is the fulcrum upon which harmony and balance may be finally achieved.”
7. There are no moral absolutes in Voodoo. Good shades into Evil. In fact Good and Evil often inhabit the same situation in a sort of Zen condition. Davis quotes one of his sources: “Good and Evil are the same; but do not confuse them.”
8. While Good and Evil cohabit in Voodoo, there is nevertheless Justice. Before anyone is punished or condemned, correct procedure must be followed. This involves listening to those who are aggrieved as well as to those who are more sympathetic, and only then forming a consensus on guilt.
9. Despite its pervasiveness in Haiti, Voodoo is not an established religion. It has no clerical hierarchy, no fixed structure whatsoever. And although it has been infiltrated from time to time by governmental elements (like the Ton Ton Macoute), it remains an independent force in Haitian society.
No wonder the that other religions find Voodoo so disturbing. It defies all the presumptions of ‘global religions.’ It is democratic, decentralised, non-coercive, therapeutic, respectful of dissent, and able to exist without state support. A real marriage of heaven and hell.
————————
*Some of Davis’s historical material is astoundingly revealing. For example, in the ten years prior to the Haitian Revolution in 1793, over 400,000 Africans were imported into the country. These were part of the 5 million Africans brought to the Caribbean (The entire population of The United States was 2.5 million at the time of the American Revolution). A white population of less than 10% of this number drove the most successful colonial enterprise on the planet, accounting for economic activity greater than that of the whole of the newly formed United States.
The Haitian Revolution also had profound effects for the future of the young United States. Napoleon had dispatched two armies, totalling in excess of 40,000 troops, to reinforce French settlements along the entire Mississippi valley. He also ordered them to mop up the continuing mess in Haiti. Both armies were destroyed in Haiti and never arrived in New Orleans. In a pivot to Plan B, Napoleon agreed the Louisiana Purchase with the Jefferson administration. One can only speculate what the inhibition to American migration would have meant to the entire West if the Haitians had been subdued.
Wade Davis has written an entertaining, at times profound, tale of his research into the zombi-phenomenon in Haiti. As an ethnobiologist, he has sympathetically brought together the country’s history and sociology, conventional medicine and pharmacology, religious ritual, and his own personal experience in a nail-biting narrative. Your typical swashbuckling hero has nothing on Davis - except perhaps a little self-effacement.*
What I find most compelling about The Serpent and the Rainbow, though, is Wade’s appreciation for the theological import of the uniquely Haitian way of life signified by Voodoo. That Voodoo is a religion is often challenged by other religions originating outside of Haiti, especially, for historical reasons, Christianity. But despite objections, it is clear that Voodoo has not only a central spiritual purpose but also a rather sophisticated theological structure. I’ll try to enumerate my reasons for this conclusion based on Davis’s observations.
1. Voodoo is intensely syncretistic. It absorbs almost every spiritual belief it encounters and transforms the original into an aspect of its comprehensive worldview.
2. Consequently Voodoo has no fixed doctrine or dogma. It’s expression in prayer and ritual may vary greatly and yet still be recognisable for what it is.
3. This absence of fixed doctrine is accompanied by an interesting association between symbolic ritual and physical causality; or, if one prefers, between the psychological and the material.
4. While it is without doctrine, Voodoo maintains itself through tradition. Its West African origins are evident in its vocabulary, ritual, and spiritual cosmology.
5. In Voodoo, while spirits of various sorts exist and affect daily life through their presence in material things or events, these things or events are not the spirits themselves.
6. Neither do various ritual prayers and actions cause the presence of spirits. Spirits are merely invited, often begged, to participate in human activities. It is a mistake to term ritual aspects of Voodoo ‘magic.’ They are the equivalent of what can be called psychic or spiritual therapy: “... the human form is by no means just an empty vessel for the gods. Rather it is the critical and single locus where a number of sacred forces may converge, and within the overall vodoun quest for unity it is the fulcrum upon which harmony and balance may be finally achieved.”
7. There are no moral absolutes in Voodoo. Good shades into Evil. In fact Good and Evil often inhabit the same situation in a sort of Zen condition. Davis quotes one of his sources: “Good and Evil are the same; but do not confuse them.”
8. While Good and Evil cohabit in Voodoo, there is nevertheless Justice. Before anyone is punished or condemned, correct procedure must be followed. This involves listening to those who are aggrieved as well as to those who are more sympathetic, and only then forming a consensus on guilt.
9. Despite its pervasiveness in Haiti, Voodoo is not an established religion. It has no clerical hierarchy, no fixed structure whatsoever. And although it has been infiltrated from time to time by governmental elements (like the Ton Ton Macoute), it remains an independent force in Haitian society.
No wonder the that other religions find Voodoo so disturbing. It defies all the presumptions of ‘global religions.’ It is democratic, decentralised, non-coercive, therapeutic, respectful of dissent, and able to exist without state support. A real marriage of heaven and hell.
————————
*Some of Davis’s historical material is astoundingly revealing. For example, in the ten years prior to the Haitian Revolution in 1793, over 400,000 Africans were imported into the country. These were part of the 5 million Africans brought to the Caribbean (The entire population of The United States was 2.5 million at the time of the American Revolution). A white population of less than 10% of this number drove the most successful colonial enterprise on the planet, accounting for economic activity greater than that of the whole of the newly formed United States.
The Haitian Revolution also had profound effects for the future of the young United States. Napoleon had dispatched two armies, totalling in excess of 40,000 troops, to reinforce French settlements along the entire Mississippi valley. He also ordered them to mop up the continuing mess in Haiti. Both armies were destroyed in Haiti and never arrived in New Orleans. In a pivot to Plan B, Napoleon agreed the Louisiana Purchase with the Jefferson administration. One can only speculate what the inhibition to American migration would have meant to the entire West if the Haitians had been subdued.
adventurous
informative
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced