Jerry Kamstra

This is a book I inherited from my late Uncle Joe which is strange since he always said he was never a part of “that drug culture” though an ex-hippie. The very small portion I kept of his books are still piled all over my library floor. Back to the review, the first chapter was off and running with a nervous roll to the border heading into the U.S. and a thrilling (non)escape from authorities. It came in at a scant 35 pages, within the average bounds of a standard chapter. I foolishly expected this trend would continue throughout but each of the other three chapters comes in just over a hundred pages! A definite pet peeve of mine, I hate over-long chapters! The latter three chapters could have easily been divided into 3 or 4 chapters each. Some of these monsters even have what appears to be breaks in the text every now and again, though that just could be bad layout.
Otherwise, I did enjoy the book aside from the too-long chapters. The excursion into the mountains in the chapter titled The Mountains reminded me distinctly of [b:Runes of the North|77440|Runes of the North|Sigurd F. Olson|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1382643693l/77440._SX50_.jpg|1145124] by Sigurd F. Olson. A specific passage relating a very similar mystical experience through connection with nature found in Olson’s works reads thus:
The mountains themselves take on a prehistoric quality, and I found myself drifting off into vague reveries about “first man.” Occasionally I got separated from the rest of the party by a half-hour or so, and when that happened a strange feeling crept over me. I wasn’t frightened; in fact, the feeling was quite nice. But I had never felt more alone. The ridges above me and the valleys below me took on an abstract quality, a tentativeness that brought my whole existence into question. … . I could feel myself becoming amorphous, drifting out over the ridges and mountain tops. When that happened I spurred my mule to catch up with the rest of the group.
I also enjoyed this bit on page 236:
I flashed that I was going to be riding down a narrow trail at night while I was stoned out of my mind. The thought was both appealing and frightening. I was frightened because my experience with mules was minimal and the path was narrow and dangerous. The idea was appealing though, because I knew that whenever I got stoned and tried something, it inevitably worked out fine.
I took it as humorous even if the author didn’t intend it, it is still a little funny. I also enjoyed the boomer lingo that was on full display here. Of course, given the span of time from when this book was written till now, there are a few collar-tuggers here. The biggest one is a passage that is an admiration of a little girl bathing naked which though I do not believe it was intended to come off as creepy, maybe it didn’t then, but it does big time now especially when he comments on her little brother’s penis as he runs by. Another troubling aspect of the book is that the author seems to view everyone as a classification slash stereotype, particularly racial stereotypes. There is also a homophobic slur near the very end which is of course cringy. Other than those negatives though, I really enjoyed this book (I would’ve enjoyed it better if it was properly chaptered). I did not mind the multiple sidetracks the author took pretty consistently. I did enjoy looking through his eyes with his love of Mexico though his attitudes towards the people seem mixed at best.
I would recommend this book to anyone who likes travel-lit, which this invariably is. It is a book about a single trip taken by a marijuana smuggler sometime in the 1970s framed by an incident where he was busted earlier on in his smuggling career. There is some very interesting information about the weed trade and its illegalities at the time as well. All-in-all it was a good book. I dug it.… (más)