Customer Reviews

On a Spaceship with Beelzebub: By a Grandson of Gurdjieff

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This book is a deep, intimate look at one man's journey through the transformational apparatus known in Fourth Way terminology as, "School". Kherdian is a natural born writer and the story reads with the kind of effortlessness which, ironically, requires a great effort to produce.

For those who have entered a school setting, the story in this book will open new eyes, offering the opportunity to pour new wine from old bottles. And for those who have yet to be in a school, but wish to be, they'll want to ponder carefully whether or not to read this book. You must remember that, despite his wealth of experience, the author is human and some of the conclusions he puts forth, whether for real, or as a teaching ploy, are questionable.

For example, towards the end of the book where he describes the turmoil over his decision to leave the farm-school, he comes to the conclusion that his teacher, Mrs. Stavely, was incapable of letting go of him. And he goes on at some length to explain why this was so and it had the scent of justifying moreso than conveying. One in the work might leave a light on in the window for the possibility that Mrs. Stavely understood that the author could not truly leave the farm without her providing a strong resistance for it. Yes and No go hand in hand--without her strong No (you're not leaving), there could be no Yes (I am leaving).

And it seems she played it to perfection, leaving no sense of obligation in Kherdian--he seems to really believe she wanted him to stay. Consider a teacher who, by her very nature, had achieved a measure of objectivity and played a role so convincingly that even those who studied and had some knowledge of a teacher's roleplaying function were taken in by it then set free.

Words come and go, and Kherdian is excellent with them, yet the main point can be found in the impression the author leaves on a reader and this Kherdian writes about and understands. This book is a worthy read. Remember to think for yourself while reading it.

This account of the rather dispersed Gurdjieff teaching was painless to read, and offered a history of a time when the heroic early phase of the Gurdjieff work was long past. The book takes place mostly in the seventies and eighties as Mr. Kherdian and his wife worked first with the Gurdjieff foundation on Long Island, and then later on a farm close to Portland, Oregon, with an elderly woman who had once studied with Jane Heap.
The power trip that seems to be the curse of Gurdjieff groups was present here as well, although Mrs. Stavely didn't seem to demand that her charges spend the evenings pleasuring her, which is somewhat unlike most male gurus. One thing I found myself wondering throughout was about the financial picture. How did the Foundation support itself? How much were the students asked to tithe? In a similar way, I was wondering if Stavely demanded a portion of the income of her charges in exchange for room and board at her farm residence with her occasional tidbits of wisdom.
Kherdian does seem to be one of the few remaining artists in the movement known as the Work. While this was an intense focus in the first half of the century, you rarely hear of a cultural worker turning to the Gurdjieff work for inspiration today. Kherdian is a good poet, working in a domain that is hard to put one's finger on -- something along the lines of William Williams, but with a more transcendant dimension visible through the plums.
This book's most interesting pages have to do with how the work affected his poetry and art. Unfortunately, there are too few discussions of the notion of "objective" art which Gurdjieff proposed, and which Kherdian and his wife were trying to pursue. Kherdian's aesthetics, and his relationship to Gurdjieff's aesthetics, remain a mystery, but should have been the focus of this book, as it is his strongest concern throughout. However, what we get instead is a personal account of many personal but ephemeral relationships with people of varying interest who also participated in the work with Kherdian and his wife.
The sense of humor in Gurdjieff and his early disciples seems to have been replaced with a kind of serene pioneer spirit in the rolling hills of Oregon. I missed the sense of mischief present in earlier groups. The book is painless reading -- the three hundred pages fly past and give a good indication of where the Gurdjieff work is headed these days. That in itself should be enough for anybody who is interested in these things, but doesn't know where to go or what they will find in such an adventure.
-- Kirby Olson

A most helpful book, and a true window into what troubles so many socalled workgroups. ...

I couldn't put this book down. It is an engaging look into one man's journey in the Gurdjieffian legacy. Full of things I didn't know, reading this book was an entertaining and brutally honest look into the Work as it has evolved through the years.

For me this book did not open all up on the first reading. I think that the reason is partly the intensity of the effort of both David and his wife Nonny. First in their search of what they wanted, second in their search for the right teacher for themselves, third their work with A.L. Staveley and fourth leaving the farm.

Through the book you can see the putting in practice of Gurdjieff's advice: 'If you do not have a critical mind, your stay in here is useless'.

The criticism of the Gurdjieff Foundation seems to be sound enough. When talking about the Foundation we have to bear in mind that by this Kherdian means the American Foundation, which I do not know personally. The relationships with people that I have met in The Gurdjieff Society in London have always been warm and friendly; not at all like the cold contacts in the experience of the Kherdians. (I felt pity for Lord Pentland as a sick old man, however true it may be.)

The book proceeds like in slow motion, which is a great help in digging deeper into the experiences described.

By far the best book I have read on working on oneself!

I bought David Kherdian's book in the belief that it would contain sensational revelations about the Gurdjieff cult. It did not. Actually, Kherdian is a supporter of Gurdjieff and his religious viewpoint, known as The Work. So is his wife Nonny, frequently mentioned in the book. Even the title is pure Gurdjieff. It alludes to "Beelzebub's Tales to His Grandson", a strange novel written by Gurdjieff, with the plot set on a spaceship. (Like most mortals, I never finished it.)

Most of Kherdian's book is incomprehensible flim flam. I never understood what on earth Kherdian and Nonny were searching for, if they ever found it, and if so, how. Yet, I read the book twice. It feels like a spaceship to nowhere. It's incredibly boring, too. I'm sure Beelzebub's grandson Hassein had more fun at the spaceship Karnak!

But yes, if you read "On a spaceship with Beelzebub" carefully, you can draw certain conclusions the author doesn't want to draw himself. Judging by his description, some of the Gurdjieff groups are indeed cults, or at least pretty weird. They assign their members meaningless and menial work, which is usually carried out in a very amateurish way. In one group, Kherdian encountered a whole lot of people working on a house, all of whom seemed to be suspicious of each other, not letting their true feelings show, while asking their superiors only the most meaningless of questions. There were even two working class types who had been assigned to a forge, where they had been stuck for years! Kherdian doesn't draw the obvious conclusion: the group is cultish. That would explain why everyone is afraid of everyone else, and why everyone is so negative, under the polished surface - it's because the promised perfection never comes, but to say so would be to undermine the authority of the leadership and The Work. Therefore, people keep silent while watching the slightest move of everybody else... A classical cult situation.

Kherdian also tells a bizarre story about the group leader, Lord Pentland, who one day suddenly announced that The Work was finished, and that he would resign and leave! The next day, Pentland came back again, and nobody questioned anything. Nobody, that is, except Kherdian and Nonny, who left the group. (Despite this, they were emotionally attached to Pentland even afterwards.) It's unclear whether Pentland had a nervous breakdown, or whether his "resignation" was a ploy, perhaps a trick to weed out dissidents like the Kherdians. I've heard of similar confidence tricks in other cults.

Apart from this, the reader gets the impression that "the work" in the Gurdjieff Foundation consisted in listening to Pentland's theoretical lectures, doing menial work tasks, meditating, and learning a strange form of dance. But what for? I constantly get the impression that a trained psychologist (or pastor) would be able to sort out whatever nebulous problems these people think they are having. At one point, Nonny gets some kind of experience of "enlightenment" while baking. She seems to have been the only one.

The latter half of the book deals with Kherdian and Nonny joining another Gurdjieff group, this time in a remote part of Oregon. This group was led by a woman, Mrs. Stavely. Most of the other members where hippies, creating a rather strange situation for the middle-aged Kherdians. This part contains the only funny anecdote in the entire book: the group made the mistake of hiring baby-sitters from the local community, mostly made up of Bible-believing Christians. The baby-sitters saw the book "Beelzebub's Tales to His Grandson" and were shocked. Beelzebub, of course, is the devil himself. Stavely's group also made the stupid mistake of conducting its rituals outdoors, at midnight, with candle lights. The locals became convinced that Stavely, Kherdian, Nonny and the hippies were a bunch of Satanists, and even organized an armed posse to drive them from the area, but luckily they were stopped at the last minute by the county police!

Welcome to Oregon, 40 years ago.

(10 years later, the Oregonians *really* got their baptism of fire. We all know who came knocking on their door then, don't we? Does the name Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh ring a bell?)

I really can't recommend "On a spaceship with Beelzebub". I guess you should read it if you are obsessed with The Work. Otherwise, you might as well give it a pass.

Incidentally, I noticed that the author doesn't mention this particular book on his website...

WRITTEN BY A GRANDSON OF MULLAH NASSREDDIN

This is an entertaining book with a rare inside look at real Work groups, but unfortunately not the look you would want. Kherdian does the same kind of injustice to John Pentland that another reviewer reports he does to Ms. Stavely. Read the other review for his distortion of Stavely. Members who were in the same group with Kherdian under John Pentland tell a different slant to Kherdian's account. Kherdian is preserving his ego with this book and rejecting the efforts of his teachers precisely at the point where it could do him the most good. When it starts getting personal, he can't handle it. This book does an injustice to unsuspecting readers who might think this is an honest and accurate account. They may find themselves unnecessarily discouraged. There is little real school available in the world as it is without undermining what little there is. If Kherdian couldn't give a fair account, he should have kept his mouth shut.

Spiritual "schools" of most any kind are nonsense; all development is self-development, and the kinds of methods used in what is left of the Gurdjieff organizations are merely self-deception and self-projection, often nearly on the scale of psychoanalysis and organized religion. If one reads between the lines in this very well-written and honest book, this becomes more than apparent in the behavior of pseudo-gurus like Stavely and Pentland--and contrary to some reports the descriptions in this book ring true, not just of those individuals but all those who set themselves up as "mystical authorities", including Gurdjieff himself. The only flaw the book has is that Kheridan never seems to realize that it isn't just his teachers that are limited, but the whole enterprise of spiritual search through dedication to such imaginary "masters".

The author blows his credibility right from the start by trying to call himself a grandson of Gurdjieff!

The contents of the book are just not worth reading - unless you like pure fiction - or a good laugh.

Why call yourself somebody's "grandson" if in fact you are not related to the person concerned?