A Note On Naked Lunch

I have a policy: at page 50 of every book, I stop and decide whether or not to continue reading. I gave Naked Lunch the full 50 pages, and I decided to return it to the UWW library.

This book was supposed to horrify and disgust me, make me cringe and gag, make me sad and sick. It did not. I was not shocked or outraged, I was indifferent. Maybe I'm just heartless, but I could not dismiss the nagging feeling that drug users get what they get. So it goes.

I stopped reading because I felt there was no point and the book was intolerably boring (and confusing, but not in the good way). I might have kept reading if Burroughs had actually given up drugs after writing this book, just to support his efforts. He did not, so I owe him nothing.