#10 - Junky by William S Burroughs

'I think you'd like this,' Henry says as he passes me a book that at first sight, is about heroin addiction. 'Gee, thanks.' I think to myself.

'The Definitive Text of 'Junk'' is a non-fiction work written in such a straightforward style that makes you believe (in no uncertain terms) the two main facts about William S. Burroughs - one, that he is trained in anthropology, and two, that he shot his wife in the head.

The straight-up power of Burroughs' cold and analytical documentation of what it was like to be a drug addict in the 1950's leaves you rocking on your feet. Firstly, I don't know about you, but I never associated the titular 'Junk' with that time period. The way in which he strolls uncaringly through the bodies of contorted drug addicts gives you two impressions - largely, what it is like to live your life encircling one goal of getting a hit, and secondly that William S. Burroughs has got a screw loose.

Of course I go crazy for good journalism - whether it admits to being journalism or not, because trust me, much of the good stuff doesn't - but if you're trying to be open minded about life, this is the book to test your mettle. It reestablishes 'junk addiction' not as a crime but as an illness, and aids the reader in understanding - whether they agree with it or not - the way in which a sickness can control a human beings urges. Thanks Henry.

Pages: 124
Bottom Line: William S. Burroughs takes a lot of something and tells you all about how terrible it is. Then does it again.

#9 - Leviathan by Paul Auster

I discovered Leviathan a long while ago after I saw it referenced in a book dedicated to the history of photography. The conceptual artist Sophie Calle - a woman of many enigmas - was used by Auster in his sleek and intelligent novel as a basis for one of the main characters. In the one-line summary of the book I was hooked, and lined it up on my Amazon Wish List there and then.

A curious breed of thriller, biography and wonderful literary goodness; Leviathan is a book written in the way that makes you believe every word without even trying. Even where it rewrites history and tells you that people are famous, you go along with it and doubt everything apart from the tome before you. Written in a consciously experimental style, Auster writes in an intelligent but pacingly readable and entertaining way, with vivid and subtly brilliant characters who will carry you from explosive to start to the marvelous finish.

If you want something that can make you think whilst also being thoroughly entertained by a book that comes to life more so than much non-fiction, Leviathan makes for a wonderful romp through a world of explosions, genii, and the wonderfully offset couple of giant political themes matched with beautifully painted intimate relationships.

Pages: 200
Bottom Line: John Le Carré and Albert Camus have a wonderfully stylish lovechild. Explosions.