I have long avoided Burroughs' writing on account of a strong suspicion that I would not really appreciate it. I picked this collection up because I found myself in need (professionally) of sampling his style and prose, and a collection of shorter text seemed more appealing than leaping into a longer piece of writing (especially considered some of my preconceptions of what Burroughs' writing entails).
The collection opens with a very useful introduction by editor James Grauerholtz, who provides a decent biographical and historical background for Burroughs and, in particular, the texts in the collection. As such, this volume, according to Grauerholtz, essentially showcases Burroughs' transition from his early autobiographical Junky and Queer phase to the later full-fledged fantasist of Naked Lunch and beyond. It is divided into three main parts: I. Stories, II. Lee's Journals, and III. Word.
The first section contains eight pieces of short fiction, either full stories or seeming fragments, in a fairly straightforward (albeit occasionally a tad surreal) manner of narration. Surprisingly to me, I found myself really appreciating these stories a lot. Burroughs' use of language won me over and had me engrossed in these stories.
This continued into and throughout the second part, mainly consisting of "Lee's Journals" (including five subheadings to the journal), but also three slightly more separate pieces. Here we are starting to see traces of Interzone (already hinted at in the last story of the first section: "International Zone") and clearly (once more according to Grauerholtz) points towards Naked Lunch. In fact, this far into the book, I had already decided that I wanted to read more Burroughs in the future, adding a number of titles to my wishlists, and more importantly buying Naked Lunch.
And then came the third section, WORD.
Unlike the preceding sections, WORD constitutes a single piece of writing, albeit possibly the most fragmented, digressive, and insane piece of writing I have ever set my eyes on. A stream of words in broken paragraphs, with a grammar that far too often defies grammar on levels of tense, subject–verb agreement, sentence structure, and complete sentences. Add to this that the fragmentary nature of the text reduces any and all sense of characters into mere linguistic markers that pops into the text only to disappear, or maybe pop up later, but without any form of cohesion. Furthermore, the tremendous focus on anal matters (literally speaking) and prostates, washed over by rivers of jissom and more, does not necessarily appeal the most to this particular reader.
In short, this final part of the journey was quite tough going, and it will be a while before I feel ready to make an attempt with Naked Lunch at this point. In fact, part of me cannot help but wonder if I ought not first rather read Junky, which resides further away from "WORD" and closer to the material which I really enjoyed. But perhaps I worry too much. After all, Grauerholtz does stress that "the tone and style of 'WORD' are unique in Burroughs' work; he never returned to the same kind of profane, first-person sibylline word salad, although it marked the breakthrough into his own characteristic voice" (xxii).
And still, despite the struggle itself, I cannot say that "WORD" by necessity is bad. It is what it is. Tremendously weird and unsettling and . . .
However, chances are that had it not been for my struggle with word, this would have been a five star review. That is how strong I feel the first two parts of the book actually are.
So, do I recommend it? Well, certainly not to the timid.