THE SUMMER Of HAIGHT by George Petersen – Surreal Fiction, 1960s, Literary Fiction

In The Summer of Haight, George Petersen opens a doorway into the hallucinatory dreamscape of 1967 San Francisco, where the counterculture’s bright ideals are shadowed by something far more sinister.

Forget the peace signs and flower crowns. This isn’t a nostalgic romp through Haight-Ashbury. It’s a slow-burning gothic mystery where the air smells of something rotting just beneath the incense, and reality unravels one eerie page at a time.

The Summer of Haight centers on Longfellow, a straight-laced, impeccably dressed British lawyer living in San Francisco. He’s logical, loyal, and just rigid enough to feel like he’s constantly one step out of place in the groovy chaos of 1960s counterculture. His best friend, the brilliant and eccentric scientist Dr. Jonathan St. Amour, seems to be riding high—hosting elite parties, building a private laboratory under his Victorian mansion, and showing off his mysterious new pet cat, Zelda, who wears a custom-cut diamond in the shape of a cat’s eye.

Things start to tilt sideways when Jonathan suddenly asks Longfellow to draft a new will—one that leaves everything to a man named Dr. Asmodeus Youngblood.

This ‘Youngblood’ is nobody Longfellow has ever met, and Jonathan refuses to introduce them. In fact, he makes Longfellow promise not to investigate him. Naturally, this only makes Longfellow more suspicious.

What follows is a descent into something much stranger than legal drama. Youngblood isn’t just a mystery; he’s a walking contradiction, a man who looks like a flamboyant hippie but moves with something menacing in his step. He sleeps during the day, unnerves everyone in the house, and seems to have an unnatural hold over Jonathan. Even Zelda is terrified of him.

As Longfellow breaks his promise and trails Youngblood through the fog-choked streets of the Haight, the novel morphs into a fever dream.

There are LSD-drenched parties, glowing body paint, hallucinatory visions, and ominous signs that Youngblood may not be entirely human. The scenes at the Fillmore Auditorium—strobe-lit nudity and shadowy faceless figures—feel like a cross between Eyes Wide Shut and a haunted lava lamp. At one point, the atmosphere turns almost otherworldly: “Wide-eyed and anxious, I climbed the stairs to the auditorium, a red apple in one hand, a bright yellow balloon in the other… Janis Joplin belted out ‘Summertime’ on stage… tie-dye backdrops bathed in luminous liquid colors… A puppeteer hung a life-size marionette from the balcony so it could dance with the flower girls on the floor below…”

Despite the surrealism, The Summer of Haight is also about aging, longing, and identity.

Jonathan’s longing to be young again, to break free from the restrictions of respectability and embrace something primordial, is familiar but also terrifying. Readers will find the story clearly depicts how simple it is to lose oneself while pursuing the illusion of independence.

The prose is moody, poetic, and at times playfully gothic.

There’s fog, firelight, hidden blades, secret cellars, and symbolic snakes. But the pace is deliberate; it doesn’t sprint. Rather, it creates a dense atmosphere that allows the reader to feel the dread.

If you like stories where a seemingly rational world starts to fray at the edges—where one must question not only the nature of the villain but that of reality itself—then The Summer of Haight by George Petersen might be your kind of delirium. It’s haunting, heady, and more than a little hypnotic.