An Accidental Journey with Timothy Leary

A book review....

I first heard of Timothy Leary back at Cal State Los Angeles—the name was usually tossed around in the same breath as LSD, "Turn on, tune in, drop out," and a vague sense that he was either a genius or completely nuts. Or both. But I never really dove into his work. I figured I'd eventually get around to it—right after finishing Ulysses, learning to cook, and becoming a morning person.

Then, in 1997, a couple of friends handed me Design for Dying and said, “You have to read this.” (Always a dangerous sentence.) I braced myself for cosmic gobbledygook and was fully prepared to roll my eyes... but instead, I found myself laughing, tearing up, and questioning everything I thought I knew about life and death—in that order.

Leary’s last work is wild, weird, occasionally indulgent, and deeply human. It’s the kind of book that makes you want to high-five the Grim Reaper and ask him if he’s got any good podcasts. There’s something beautiful about the way Leary faces death not with fear, but with curiosity, creativity, and even a sense of humor. He made dying seem like the final art project, the ultimate trip—not in a dismissive way, but in a "this-matters-so-let's-make-it-count" kind of way.

Reading this book didn’t just make me more interested in Leary’s other work—it made me more interested in life. In living well, loving weirdly, and letting go gracefully.

Highly recommend—especially if, like me, you’re the kind of person who thinks about death at 2am and copes by rewatching sitcoms. This book might not replace your comfort TV, but it’ll definitely sneak into your thoughts... and maybe even leave a disco ball hanging in your soul’s departure lounge.