'THE PURSUIT OF OBLIVION': DRUG TAKING AS PART OF HUMAN NATURE

In a sunless room in Bengal in the 1670's, a group of English sailors
enacted a scene that would, in spirit, be repeated in basements, bedrooms
and alleys of the Western world for centuries. First, they each swallowed a
pint of bhang, a local drink. One of the sailors then sat and sobbed all
afternoon, another began a fistfight with a wooden pillar, yet another
inserted his head inside a large jar. The rest sat about or lolled upon the
floor. They were completely stoned.

Psychotic, depressed or mirthful, the sailors' behavior was induced by
bhang's crucial ingredient -- cannabis, also known as ganja, charas, grifa,
anascha, liamba, bust, dagga, hashish, hemp and marijuana. Their drug-addled
afternoon, reported firsthand by the merchant Thomas Bowrey, who sat
sweating throughout it, is the earliest account by an Englishman of
recreational cannabis use. With this report, the English writer Richard
Davenport-Hines begins ''The Pursuit of Oblivion,'' a history of drug taking
that is dense with scholarship and, because it is a ''history of emotional
extremes,'' highly absorbing.

Early on, Davenport-Hines presents with appealing plainness a radical idea:
''Intoxication is not unnatural or deviant.'' This small statement shapes
his book. In refusing to view drug use through the lens of the modern
criminal justice system, Davenport-Hines extends his focus beyond the ''drug
problem'' or the miseries we bring upon ourselves (though it includes many
examples of that). Instead, he sees it as part of the repertoire of normal
human activities.

He also states that ''absolute sobriety is not a natural or primary human
state.'' Humans have always used drugs, a fact that underpins ''The Pursuit
of Oblivion,'' a history of the controlled and uncontrolled use of
substances that alter consciousness, shift feeling and meet an immense range
of human wants and needs. Davenport-Hines, whose books include studies of
Auden and the gothic genre, notes that his view conflicts with a
prohibitionist view of drugs. He briefly categorizes the major drug groups
(opium is a narcotic, cannabis and LSD are hallucinogens, amphetamines and
coffee are stimulants) and points out that their physiological effects have
been truly understood only in the last 30 years. He presents a multitude of
capsule biographies, official reports, literary excerpts, government
inquiries and medical histories that provide overwhelming support for the
idea that drug use is not deviant and, moreover, that it often reflects the
ideal of ''human perfectibility, the yearning for a perfect moment, the
peace that comes from oblivion.''

The documentation of specific drugs and desires is dazzling. Opium is one of
the oldest known drugs. An Egyptian papyrus describing 700 different opium
mixtures (including one for calming bothersome children) dates to 1552 B.C.
Cocaine is one of the most recent. It was first extracted in 1860 by a
chemistry student, Albert Niemann, for his doctoral thesis. In between are
betel, qat, pituri, alcohol, chloroform, mescaline and tea, among others.

History's drug users have been rich and poor, despairing and lighthearted,
educated, unemployed and holders of political office. They have imbibed,
inhaled and injected to allay physical discomfort, increase sexual stamina,
feed addiction, soften coughs, take a mental holiday or just feel normal.
Marcel Proust was fond of the stimulant amyl nitrate before bedtime (it
helped his asthma). Arsenic-eaters in 19th-century Austria were in search of
clear skin and a good aphrodisiac. Civil War soldiers took opium to prevent
malaria and diarrhea.

Crawford Long, a young doctor in Jefferson, Ga., was motivated by fun. In
1842, he staged ''ether frolics,'' riotous parties where the chemical was
dispensed. When Long noticed that his guests sustained wounds while
stumbling about drunk but did not seem to feel them, he began to experiment
with the drug as a medical anesthetic, thus shaping the course of modern
surgery.

Inevitably, the story of narcotics is closely intertwined with the story of
the Western medical establishment. Yet this connection has rarely been as
uncomplicated or benevolent as Long's ether experiment. For hundreds of
years, doctors have been users and often addicts. In the late 1800's, most
of the male morphine addicts in the United States were physicians. Through
ignorance or therapeutic intent, they also made addicts out of many of their
patients.

Similarly, no account of drug use is complete without a thorough analysis of
commerce, global trade, politics and antidrug legislation. Dozens of
perfectly legal drug products were once available, like morphine and heroin
pastilles (available through department store catalogs in England). In the
1930's, according to F. Scott Fitzgerald, airline stewardesses would
regularly offer barbiturates, asking, ''Dear, do you want an aspirin? . . .
or Nembutal?''

Davenport-Hines assembles strong evidence to support his belief that
criminalization has created the modern drug problem. Indeed, history offers
few examples of punitive legislation curing addiction or ending trafficking.
He contends that because risk is closely tied to profit, enforcing laws
against drug trafficking actually increases the economic reward for those
willing to run an illegal business. The facts he cites bear him out: world
coca production doubled between 1985 and 1996. Opium production tripled.

Because the book spans continents, millenniums and subjects, from the opium
habit of Emperor Marcus Aurelius to the invention of hypodermic needles, the
sheer volume of detail in ''The Pursuit of Oblivion'' makes it demanding to
read. But it is an extremely impressive work, not just for its common-sense
argumentation and encyclopedic breadth, but also because of
Davenport-Hines's sharp eye for a good story. He skillfully weaves anecdotes
into his analyses, like that of the Derbyshire schoolteacher in 1911 who
demanded that a pupil tell him why the geography class was so sleepy. The
reply: ''Percy Toplis brought in a bottle of laudanum, Sir, and passed it
round the class, Sir.''

''The Pursuit of Oblivion'' follows a long trail of desire, despair and bad
decisions, and it is impossible not to feel a sense of connection with many
of its case studies. Whether or not the book's readers are personally
familiar with the effects of narcotics, they will understand at least some
of the emotions that surround their use. After all, who hasn't longed for
oblivion or dreamed of ecstasy? Who hasn't wished for something, anything,
to take the edge off daily life?

Christine Kenneally is writing a book about the evolution of language.