Set Controls for the Heart of the Sun, by Neil Rushton

This novel starts out with the protagonist having a very hard time. He is skint and mentally ill. He gets a new psychiatrist who is involved in radical experimentation with psychedelic medicines. Some of which will be familiar, and others not.

The story engages with one of the biggest issues in psychedelic healing, or any kind of mental therapy - to what society are we returning these ‘healed’ people, and how much of their distress was down to what is happening in the world, the shitstorm of the Neoliberal Empire? And further, might a 'healee' actually be a person who has something other people do not? Might the healing be ‘just’ a side-effect, not the most important part of the transformation?

If healing is the icing on the cake, what is the cake? 

Another issue in the tale is the old dream, simply articulated in the lines of Country Joe and the Fish’s classic track ‘Bass Strings’, that if we only took enough acid often enough, we’d never come down. It did seem like this was radically disproved in the 1960s-70s by the number of broken trippers who'd tried to smash through into eternity on pure quantity, but in this modern version they’re using a cocktail of other drugs too, and the results are, well, a bit different. 

Other than that, I won’t provide any spoilers, because the story is full of intense shifts and twists. And rather like a trip, both dark and uplifting. It’s superbly written. There’s a lightness of touch, the prose is never overdone, and it’s occasionally funny. 

I'd like to drop acid with Neil Rushton, in a secluded country house with a great LP collection. But then again, maybe in some other reality I already have. This is a breathtaking piece of psychedelic fiction. If Leonard Pickard had never written The Rose of Paracelsus, it would be my favourite trip novel of all time. Totally recommended for all tripheads.