'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.
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