Junkie - William S. Burroughs
First, we want to welcome two new members: Monica, and Andie. Monica is attending the meetings in person; Andie, however, lives in Albany and is a member in spirit - hopefully a spirit that contributes her own comments on these books as we read them.
I don't think anyone disliked the book, though I think that each person got something different out of it. The most distinct overall impression was a surprise at the matter-of-fact-ness that Burroughs had about the whole thing. There was no judging, no condemnation, just "this is the way it is." This is a refreshing difference from modern "drug-culture" literature which either seeks to glorify or vilify the users and the drugs.
Like I said, we each took something a little different out of it. For some of us, it was a bit eye-opening to see the drug culture at work like this. Having just read Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, this book presents an interesting picture about the drug sub-culture in middle part of the 1900s. Where, when this book was written in 1950 NO ONE talked about these things, by the time Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test was written in the mid-60s it was fairly common and well-known. To this end, the glossary at the end of the book was an interesting artifact of a less hip generation that needed everything spelled out. But, in the end, it was a bit interesting to see how easily Burroughs slips in and out of the drug culture. He gets into drugs almost by happenstance, and then just quits when it gets too dull and repetitive (though, to be fair, he did "quit" to go to South America in search of better drugs).
Personally, what I found most interesting was the institutional and governmental reaction to and handling of the drug users and addicts. Surprisingly, it was both more tolerant and more strict. It was more tolerant in that institutions existed where these people could turn themselves and clean up; even it was just a cover to get free synthetic drugs, these could have been treated as legitimate rehab institutions. Now, these programs are very difficult to enter as drugs are being further and further vilified and the users are choosing "home remedies" rather than risk humiliation or worse if they turn themselves in. On the other hand, the regimens were far more strict than today. They didn't work with you, you either committed to their schedule or you left. Today these programs are tailored to each individual; which, while it may be "more effective" is also FAR more costly. Also, interestingly, these programs WERE run by the government - now, most of these programs are run either by underground non-profits getting money by claiming more "legitimate" purposes or by private organizations; in any event state or federal entities are not, for the most part, running these organizations.
Finally, Erin had some interesting observations on the "interrelationship" of all of the primary characters. While she can probably recall it better than I can, I believe that Burroughs' "male love interest" in the book (and in real life) ended up being Ginsberg's "male love interest" in real life, and was ultimately the publisher of the book. Though, in all of that, he was hesitant to emphasize, and even edited out, much of the homosexual content of the book. Frankly, it's probably for the better, because that content became part of another book "Queer" and it left this book's focus relatively narrow.
We did not read Ginsberg's "Howl" aloud; consideration for the fellow patrons of the coffee shop militated against such activity. However, most were surprised at how "non-controversial" and, indeed, trivial much of the subject matter of that poem has become. I find it interesting less as a cultural artifact, but more as the lamentations of the poet. Clearly he's pissed off. And I'm all for a bit yelling and screaming - especially when it's directed at the nefarious "man."
Hopefully others can add their comments.
I don't think anyone disliked the book, though I think that each person got something different out of it. The most distinct overall impression was a surprise at the matter-of-fact-ness that Burroughs had about the whole thing. There was no judging, no condemnation, just "this is the way it is." This is a refreshing difference from modern "drug-culture" literature which either seeks to glorify or vilify the users and the drugs.
Like I said, we each took something a little different out of it. For some of us, it was a bit eye-opening to see the drug culture at work like this. Having just read Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, this book presents an interesting picture about the drug sub-culture in middle part of the 1900s. Where, when this book was written in 1950 NO ONE talked about these things, by the time Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test was written in the mid-60s it was fairly common and well-known. To this end, the glossary at the end of the book was an interesting artifact of a less hip generation that needed everything spelled out. But, in the end, it was a bit interesting to see how easily Burroughs slips in and out of the drug culture. He gets into drugs almost by happenstance, and then just quits when it gets too dull and repetitive (though, to be fair, he did "quit" to go to South America in search of better drugs).
Personally, what I found most interesting was the institutional and governmental reaction to and handling of the drug users and addicts. Surprisingly, it was both more tolerant and more strict. It was more tolerant in that institutions existed where these people could turn themselves and clean up; even it was just a cover to get free synthetic drugs, these could have been treated as legitimate rehab institutions. Now, these programs are very difficult to enter as drugs are being further and further vilified and the users are choosing "home remedies" rather than risk humiliation or worse if they turn themselves in. On the other hand, the regimens were far more strict than today. They didn't work with you, you either committed to their schedule or you left. Today these programs are tailored to each individual; which, while it may be "more effective" is also FAR more costly. Also, interestingly, these programs WERE run by the government - now, most of these programs are run either by underground non-profits getting money by claiming more "legitimate" purposes or by private organizations; in any event state or federal entities are not, for the most part, running these organizations.
Finally, Erin had some interesting observations on the "interrelationship" of all of the primary characters. While she can probably recall it better than I can, I believe that Burroughs' "male love interest" in the book (and in real life) ended up being Ginsberg's "male love interest" in real life, and was ultimately the publisher of the book. Though, in all of that, he was hesitant to emphasize, and even edited out, much of the homosexual content of the book. Frankly, it's probably for the better, because that content became part of another book "Queer" and it left this book's focus relatively narrow.
We did not read Ginsberg's "Howl" aloud; consideration for the fellow patrons of the coffee shop militated against such activity. However, most were surprised at how "non-controversial" and, indeed, trivial much of the subject matter of that poem has become. I find it interesting less as a cultural artifact, but more as the lamentations of the poet. Clearly he's pissed off. And I'm all for a bit yelling and screaming - especially when it's directed at the nefarious "man."
Hopefully others can add their comments.
posted by Jeff | 10/18/2007 02:51:00 PM
5 Comments:
We explored the interconnections of Howl, Junkie, On the Road, and even The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. It turns out that there are a lot of “characters” that travel between the books. The obvious are Neal Cassidy in On the Road (inspired Dean Moriarty character) and The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test (himself), and Allen Ginsberg in The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test (himself), On the Road (Carlo Marx’s character) and Howl. But don’t forget Carl Solomon, to whom Howl was dedicated was the key, in getting Junkie published through Solomon’s uncle A.A. Wyn at Ace Books. And Allen Ginsberg was Burroughs original agent for Junkie. Unlike Jeff's recollection, I don't think Carl was ever Burrough's love interest. I could be wrong.
They all were part of the Beat Generation and were friends, but more importantly, the all inspired each other. Some say Neal Cassidy started the stream of consciousness style of Jack Kerouac, and he certainly was a main source for On the Road. Some even say Neal Cassidy was the definition of Beat. Each supported each other and used their connections to advance careers, which is nothing new in the literary or arts world. The Bloomsbury Group in England with members including Virginia Woolf, E. M. Forster, and Mary (Molly) MacCarthy, the biographer and essayist Lytton Strachey, the economist John Maynard Keynes, the painters Duncan Grant, Vanessa Bell, and Roger Fry, and the critics of literature, art, and politics, Strachey, Fry, Desmond MacCarthy, Clive Bell, and Leonard Woolf is an example of that. But it is one of the best examples (in fact really the only one) that we could come up with of reoccurring characters and intertwined stories between books, poems, and lives.
Burroughs’ “wife” was not truly his wife in the legal sense. I believe in Junky, he even has a part admitting that it was a “common law marriage.” That is true in real life as well. And, yes, they did have a child. Burroughs does eventually come out as gay, but at the time Junkie was written, he was still the son of a rich family in the 1940’s and 50’s. Yes, he’s an addict with a common law wife and sleeping with guys on the side, but it was still a big step to come out completely. Just think of the uproar that Queer and Howl had years later. Even the homosexuality parts of Junky had been edited out at first.
And then in the book, the wife just disappeared. Hmmm. Where did she go? Well, in 1951, she died. Of a gunshot wound to the head. At Burrough’s hand. Yup, William Tell would not have been proud. She was balancing a water glass on her head as her husband aimed and apparently failed to hit the glass. So she had a quick exit to the story. He ended up being found guilty of homocide in Mexico, where the incident took place, but had skipped out of the country before conviction so no sentence was served. One of the few occasions where I have heard of the outlaw running away from Mexico to escape prison.
I was wondering where the wife went! There was an appendix at the end of my copy that explained that Burroughs had shot her in real life...but I didn't know if that was the reason she just disappeared in the book as well. I am also left wondering how she got into his life. It seemed to me as if one minute he was talking about being gay, and the next minute a wife just shows up out of nowhere and is bailing him out of jail. I thought I may have missed something.
Nope. He didn't do a very good job actually using her as a character in the book. She seems like a good character as she is putting up with a junkie, gay, common-law husband that travels aimlessly, but she is just mentioned every once in a while. So little that I kept forgetting she existed until she popped up for one sentence and disappeared again for chapters at a time. I'm not sure what the editor/author intent was.
I suspect the author forgot she existed frequently as well.
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