Customer Reviews

The Cat Inside

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The Elder Statesman of the Beat Generation is best known for the fantastic creatures of his drug-induced fantasies and nightmares: the Reptiles and Mugwumps of "Naked Lunch", the ramora-like pseudo-human parasites of "Junkie", and others too loathesome to mention. In contrast, in this slim volume, William S. Burroughs introduces us to the real-life creatures who accompanied him throughout his tumultuous career and particularly during his old age. These are his numerous and beloved cats, with names like Calico Jane, Fletch, Rooski, Wimpy, and Ed. Any cat-person will identify with Burroughs' pleasure in the affection and antics of his feline friends and his heart-breaking grief in their loss. But it would be a mistake to label this book of recollections a "Warm & Fuzzy". Burroughs' affiliation with the Cat is on a quite archetypal level. He reveals a recurring sensation from his earliest childhood of cuddling a small, trusting, but long-unidentifiable creature, and to realize much later he was "cast in the role of the Guardian, to create and nurture a creature that is part cat, part human, and part something as yet unimaginable, which might result from a union that has not taken place for millions of years". This resembles the vaguely disturbing imagery of classic Burroughs, to be sure. But there comes to him a startling revelation "...and now the creature is clearly recognized as a cat spirit, a Familiar. I postulate that cats started as psychic companions, as Familiars, and have never deviated from this function." This is a shamanic departure from typical Burroughs or his contemporaries. But Bill's most "off-Beat" book will surely strike a chord with anyone who has -- or is! -- a cat Inside.

In his many years of travel and artistic and psychic exploration, Mr. Burroughs encountered a wide variety of mentalities. Whether or not they were comprehensible to the rest of us, he described them and commented on their apparent roles in the universe. When he finally settled outside an east Kansas college town, he gradually became strongly involved with those small, furry, almost-alien creatures we call cats. Why humans interact so deeply with some nonhuman species, and even how those species arose, are questions this small, poetic book considers. It is much more though, a record of a man's emotional interactions with some quite different types of mind and what they revealed to him. At the least, it may bring the reader to pause at the next encounter with a cat of the house or street, and carefully consider the reserved appraisal one receives from those clear eyes

From his exasperating need to be at the highest point in the room, to his function as a wrist rest while I type, my cat is a psychic companion. Loki is a classic "one-man-cat", though he will stray when I am not available. This book is so true on many levels, even the wild fantasies... Definitely one for the library.

Who knew that old and rusted, corrugated tin woodsman, William Burroughs, had a heart after all?

For all his tales of the debauched human condition in a score of books, old Bill in his later years claimed a cat-spirit as his Familiar and became friends with a succession of lean and hungry strays, dedicated hangers-on, and occasional visitors to his home in Lawrence, Kansas. Some of these outcasts were cats, apparently. Yet even cats have their "routines," like his fictional characters, and cats' hobo confidence-games make them the perfect sidekick in the Burroughs universe. As Bill puts it, "Of course he wants food and shelter. You don't buy love for nothing."

"Someone said that cats are the furthest animal from the human model. It depends on what breed of humans you are referring to," he writes, "and of course, what cats." For someone whose writing has always delighted in the shock of recognition -- the varieties of human depravity are familiar, yet boundless -- Burroughs' observations throughout "The Cat Inside" are surprisingly forgiving.

This isn't "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats," by any means, and Fletch is no Rum-Tum-Tugger. "Warm and fuzzy" is not WSB's terrain. But it's easy to see in these notes the old sharpshooter found it comforting to view cats as kindred spirits. Ruski and Wimpy, Ed, Fletch and Calico Jane (named for Jane Bowles) shared a certain, knowing acceptance of human faults, even if it's just as long as there's a nearby tin of cat food, and someone -- their human -- to open it at dinnertime.

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I just finished reading this book. Not only is it a very fast read (I read it in an hour), but it is also the most touching book I have read in a long while. Any cat lover will love this book. This is my first taste of Burroughs, and I must say it was a wonderful taste. I have been crying ever since he spoke of Ed and not being able to find him. I highly recomend this book for anyone!

Every cat lover should read this book. This is such a touching account of the cats that come and go in Burroughs' life, with which every human graced by feline presence will identify. Burroughs is poetic, soft, and generous here. Who could have known the same man to write 'Junkie' and 'Naked Lunch' would be inspired to write a Warm Fuzzy?

Burroughs the young man was a well-known hater of cats. In this collection of stories, paragraphs, and commentaries he redeems himself by sharing his change of heart with his readers. His devotion to cats was complete by the end of his life and is evident here. Not a must for all Burroughs fans by any means nor certainly for all cat lovers (God help the poor cat lady who picks this up unknowingly) but, without a doubt, a must for the combination of the two. A superior breed, to be sure.

'The cat inside' is written in a fragmented way. Hardly any explanations or desriptions. The reader has to fill in the gaps between the paragraphs. If you have had a cat, this won't be a problem. - This book is for all the cat lovers, who at times prefer feline company over human company, who have thought about the well-being of a furry friend while out of town and have grieved over the loss of it. In the same way as human beings might project emotions, objectives and features of their own character onto the animal, the readers may project their own views onto this book. It is an open book. A book which leaves room for interpretation. If you like that sort of book and if you like cats: Read 'The cat inside'.

This was one of my favorite layouts for a book. It's very short with only a paragraph or two per page, placed in the center of the page. Burroughs can be a tough read. The beauty in this book is that it is very understandable and not without intrigue, knowledge and unique perspective. Throughout these simple pages he is brooding on the subject of cats and death and humanity. And he links them in profound ways with an elementary voice. The only Burroughs book of its kind, and as a lover of Burroughs' fiction, this book was a relief and an enjoyment to read.

What a lovely little book. A synthesis of a cat lover's sentimentality, with some sparkling of Zen and Old Bull Lee's wild deep prophetic rants. For me, Burroughs is this Shamanic figure, with a strangeness about his writing which creates a very primal connection, as if one is caught in a telepathic ayahusca ritual with him. This book, however, was a surprise introduction to his caring and soft side. Intended as a collection of anecdotes and musings about his various cats, it is also a semi-autobiography and an allegory on the human condition.