I know the story of Burroughs and the Beats well; the Beats were very influential on me in my youth. But I rarely read them these days, and, after glancing back through some formerly influential works while reading the Burroughs bio, I find that of the big three (Burroughs, Kerouac and Ginsberg) only Burroughs' work still resonates on any level. The rest feels locked into the era and the myth of that era. The best of Burrough's work, though, has never lost its power. In any case, it's a Saturday afternoon and I feel like rambling. So here we go. (Note: this has not been edited for length or clarity and is a first draft. Very Beat of me!)
Far and away the most problematic for me these days is Jack Kerouac, if only because he was the most influential on me as a teenager. My sister got me On The Road (as well as Tom Wolfe's Electric Kool Aid Acid Test) for my birthday my freshman year of high school. To use a cliche: those books, especially On the Road, changed my life. Here was literature that actually spoke to me, inspired me. This was not storytelling as I'd grown up on the concept; this was not Stephen King or even Fyodor Dostoyevsky, whom I'd discovered a year prior. This was a mad rush of life bursting from the page, exhorting me to live! Experience! Dance with the madness! Go go go go go! Opened to the idea of America as a vast wilderness of experience, I became truly aware of the stifling walls of my small-town, religious, poor rural existence. I'd always suspected there was more life out there--music had brought that to me--but On the Road made me want to live it. And even though I had already been writing for several years at that point, it was On the Road that taught me everything goes into writing. All of your life, all of your thoughts, and most importantly, all of your soul. You don't half-ass it. On the Road also told me that even though my education wasn't great and the world of academia was closed to me, I could be a writer. Good things for a young person who was already struggling with depression and feeling like many doors were closed to him.
But Kerouac taught me some bad habits, too. Soon enough I devoured every one of his books that I could get my hands on, and the one thing they drove into me was "first thought, best thought. First thought, only true thought." Kerouac didn't believe in editing--or so the myth was, I later discovered that wasn't exactly true and there was certainly editing on some of his works. But I got hung up on the idea that only my first thought had any validity, and that set me back creatively. It was a few years before I un-learned that one. We all need editors, people. And Kerouac, along with Jim Morrison and Guns 'N Roses, planted the seed that you had to bleed for your art: in other words, self-destruction was a valid artistic choice and, of course, impossibly romantic. I do not blame any of these artists for the choices I made; honestly, I probably would have made them anyway. But I would be a liar to say that I wasn't drawn towards their idea that the artist has no responsibility to anyone but themselves. Get your kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames, baby. Yeah, right (says my 40-year-old self.)
I can't read Kerouac at all now, though a good chunk of his bibliography still sits on my shelf. I find myself ashamed that I missed the casual but deep misogyny of so much of his work. And later biographical readings clearly established that he was, essentially, a grade-A asshole. Not that it matters for his work--I mean, I have albums by convicted murderers in my music collection, not to mention Burroughs!--but at this late date I simply can't read any of his work. It was crucial for a time period, but would I recommend it to a teenager today? Certainly not my daughters...and probably not my son, if I had one. Culture is more readily accessible than it was when I was a youth, and Kerouac isn't so necessary, I think.
I haven't even touched on the whole Catholic thing with Kerouac, but let's leave that for another day...it would be an essay in itself. Turning to Ginsberg, I think he was a fine poet in his early days and Howl is essential reading, as is Kaddish and a smattering of his other poems. Honestly, he was far more important as cultural figure and celebrity than he was as a poet. I found his use of every day language freeing...and then I found Bukowski and Carver, and honestly I didn't need Ginsberg at that point. Today the only Ginsberg that sits on my shelf is that classic City Lights paperback edition of Howl and Other Poems. He really was more of a gossip columnist for the bulk of his literary career. Such things have never interested me...is there anything more boring than who is sleeping with who?
So, Burroughs. In some ways, I don't think I even really began to understand Burrough's work until recently, it is so far ahead of its time. Like Kerouac, his fame has meant that even his crappy work has been published, and his cut-up material in particular was never all that interesting to me. But Naked Lunch...The Red Nights Trilogy...Junky...Queer...these are works that are truly dangerous. They can expand the mind and warp reality in a way that few printed works have ever been capable of. They are required reading for anyone who thinks there is more to life than what is directly in front of them. And they are absolutely required reading for anyone trying to understand the 20th century (good luck with that.)
The first Burroughs I ever read was, appropriately enough, Naked Lunch. Impossible to find where I grew up (actually true of all the Beats), I found a copy on a trip to "the city" early in my senior year of high school. I'd been reading it for a couple of days when I was invited to a party where I dropped acid for the first time. I took too much acid, of course (because I always took too much of whatever was offered) and had an experience that sounds like something out of a Burroughs novel: astral travel, fragmented reality, obscenity and dark humor. There is no doubt that Naked Lunch influenced my first trip, which really was hell. But hell can be an enlightening place, and that experience very much contributed to my growth as a writer. Because, of course, the first thing I did when I recovered enough was to write a poem about it, my chosen form at the time. It was not a good poem--I was never much of a poet--but it's one of the only ones I still pull out on occasion and read, for the same reason you might pull out that childhood favorite book from time to time. To prove it happened. To take measure of the dimensions of your life.
But I digress. Back to Burroughs, there are elements of his work that bug me these days that I find I have to work around. He was always one for a good conspiracy theory and had an endless fascination with pseudo-science. There was a misogynistic streak in his work as well--something that is sadly true of all the Beats, and I don't forgive them merely because of the time they lived in. And the cut-ups...yeah, those things are unreadable, though some amazing lines will leap out if you have the time and patience to forage. Yet none of these things dim the power of his best works. Burroughs reads utterly contemporary, which is astounding when you consider Naked Lunch was written in the fifties.
I haven't touched on the whole drug thing with Burroughs, simply because I think it's the one angle of his life that has been endlessly dissected (along with the accidental shooting of his wife) and I find that at this stage of my life, drug discussions just aren't that interesting. I did drugs, you did drugs, everyone did drugs and I'm just over all the cliches. If you're reading Burroughs for junkie justification or to get unique insight into the mind of a drug user, you're barking up the wrong tree. Drugs are absolutely a part of his myth, but not the most important part. I think discussion of Burroughs and his work is finally moving beyond obsessing on the tabloid details. It's refreshing to see.
There are other writers associated with the Beats, but the only one who I even give a thought to anymore is Gary Snyder, who has written some wonderful poetry (check out Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems.) I also highly recommend his A Place in Space: Ethics, Aesthetics and Watersheds, a book of essays and prose that I pull out at least once a year. In fact, I read it more than any other Beat work...probably because there's nothing Beat about it. No go go go go here, just meditations on how to live in this world without destroying it.
I can't state enough how important the Beats were to me in my formative years. They were my higher (heh heh) education in so many ways. I think they gave me far more good than bad. Even if, aside from a bit of Burroughs and Snyder, their work has little resonance to me as an adult, that does not take away from their part in my journey. They did not merely help shape me as a writer; they helped shaped my entire life. They should not be mythologized, as they so often are. Their work should be experienced. Then go create your own.
My Beat shelf:
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