A loosely based, detective novel that mimics and mocks the genre of being a detective, in a complex and disturbing string of events, you will be taken on a journey of the authors alter-ego, William Lee, a drug addict, flees from the police and we join him on his ludicrous adventurous across the US to Mexico and beyond.
Sex, drugs, homosexual cultures and fantastic twists painted by the narrative showcasing a counter story about the uses of mind control by governments and psychiatrists to manipulate, cruelly detailed that may make your stomach take a turn with each page, take a wide eye glimpse into the emerging counter cultures of the 1950s.
WARNING, IT’S LUNCH TIME: The Naked Lunch is both sick, grotesque, wild, imaginative, hilarious, mind-bending, drug-filled and bravely dirty, a true milestone in form with phrases that chatter between my teeth such as ‘… to turn a massacre into a sex orgy and a bubbly thick stagnant sound, a sound you could smell and the subject will come at his whistle, shit on the floor if he but say Open Sesame.’
This year will mark the 50th anniversary of the original publication, here’s a novel that can injects a burst of sex, politics and social control that still plays a heavy relevance today.
This book is not easy to read if your idea of reading is of the norm, Burrough’s draws a line of complex characters that have the devil and angel leering on their shoulders, intoxicating narratives, the fundamentals of human race, and the artist behind the text, William S Burroughs, states the chapters can be read in any order and still produce such a relevant story; like a subway sandwich, no matter what you put in it, it’ll taste as good as it looks.
Dive into a wormhole of imaginary zones, possibly hallucinations by the drug addicted narrator or imaginative descriptions of real events, I must admit turning a few pages in, gripped by the high of reading of course, and it’s safe to say a heroin habit isn’t a great idea.
Nevertheless, more than just a book of drugs, the novel also highlights the dangers and political hierarchy we can sympathise with today, uncovering every dark, unearthly, bad habit of American culture of the time that still reads as if it was inked yesterday.
In a teapot, to call this a cult classic would be an insult, this is a junk-lit piece that with its historical importance of being passed around as an impressively grotesque read, one would describe it as bizarre or outrageous, I have finally found a novel that makes me feel like I am sitting not page to page but face to face with Burroughs; an artistic creator of beautiful words.