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Last Words: The Final Journals of William S. Burroughs

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It is hard to evaluate journal entries, because they are not coherent, and they were originally intended for an audience of one, rather than a large circulation readership. I think "Last Words" is a very interesting look into the mind of one of the most controversial writers of the 20th Century. Burroughs recalls various moments from his life, his favorite pieces of literature, the grocery store novels he was reading, the love of his cats, his hatred of "the war on drugs" and secular humanists, and his reaction to the death of Allen Ginsberg. Owing to the fact that he was 82 years old when he wrote these entries, sometimes they are very disjointed and repetitive, which does not come as much of a shock, considering that many of his greatest novels were disjointed and repetitive. I think the last words in his journal are very optimistic and semi-profound. This book is definitely recommended to Burroughs' fans, and to fans of the Beat genre.

This was a very welcome addition to my library. I wouldn't say that it provides a capstone to his works, it's not that kind of greatness, but it did leave me feeling closer to the man...and that's really what I was seeking. Seeing inside the process, as well as getting a feel for the pulse of his last days were both accomplished very well by the book. I'll read it again, and again, whenever one of his novels awes me and I need to revisit the human who created such superhuman texts.

This book offers a nice tribute to William S. Burroughs, who was one of the most important figures of twentieth century literature. His most famous book is probably Naked Lunch which is a satire written in a series of routines. But whether you begin with Junkie, Naked Lunch or any of the others he was a man who spoke the TRUTH with a compassion and insight achieved by few others as to the state of the modern age. His words are designed to infiltrate the mind, fight the virus with itself, searching out and consuming attitudes of control impregnated by the biologic and social programming of our lives.

Thanks to James Grauerholz for this final goodbye from one of the 20th centuries most influential authors, (even if polite society won't admit it). FINAL WORDS will appeal to the Burroughs collector/afficianado as you will see the Grand Old Man return again and again in his final writings to themes that appear in his other works. Also, his commentary on current events and personalities, (Clinton, Timothy McVeigh, his fears of a growing world police state), make this book a must for the Burroughs fan. Particularly touching is how jarred Burroughs was by Allen Ginsberg's death. Burrough's remained true to his ideas/ideals to the very end, even if only at the end realizing the importance of love. From the entry for January 17, 1997: "What then is the meaning of respect? When all lies, deceit, pretense is stripped away, what remains? The truth of a painting, or a book or a man. No one is perfect. No, but by the flaws in the picture the truth will emerge."

A wonderful text. Much of Burroughs carries a sadness, but nothing like this. These are the words of a little old man. His friends are dying, his cats are dying, and he knows his own end is imminent. Even his rants against the drug war and other stupidities seem tired, like he was simply rousing his energies toward old enemies to delay his own demise.

Saddest of all was knowing how it would end.

This diary of a genius in his last weary days is a beautiful gift. An explosively brilliant visionary with insight reaching far into the future, but also a kind man who loved his cats.

Touching, amusing entries in the life of an intellectual pioneer.

Burroughs revealed so much in his fiction but the journals are a more probing way we can peer into his mind and see what he was thinking in the last days.

One often wonders where good psychedelicists are headed in their final corporeal days, so works like this provide a certain insight not gleaned from their main body of work.

Burroughs was quite a character.

These last words of Burroughs will have great poignancy for his fans, but might not be all that meaningful to the casual reader. He writes about mundane everyday occurrences, memories of his eventful life, makes extensive literary references and provides loving descriptions of his cats. For me, the Burroughs magic is here in abundance and this book helps to complete the big picture of his life and work. It's not all smooth sailing, though, as his repetitive railings against the "war on drugs" can become a bit tedious. Obscure references are explained in the explanatory Notes: I was interested to see he was a member of IOT (International Order of Thanateros - see the books Liber Kaos and Liber Null & Psychonaut by Peter Carroll) and friends with V. Vale (See Re/Search Publications like Industrial Culture Handbook and Incredibly Strange Music). Some sections are funny, some are sad (especially where he writes about Joan Vollmer and his family) and some very interesting from a literary perspective. There are powerful passages of great beauty that stick in the mind. His love for his cats and for other animals like lemurs is very moving and shows that he may have been larger than life, but in the end he was very human. So, to wrap it up: Last Words is essential reading for the Burroughs enthusiast and the Burroughs scholar, to finally understand the man and his writing. Phew ... I am relieved, to know how much he loved some people and his pets, in the end.

It will be good in the future to see the orginal notes--one really wonders what has been edited out to protect the image. Any journal is a problem to read--but when the editing is done by those with the most to protect (family, lovers, etc), historians must be really concerned. Probably not worth buying new, but it will be out in paper soon. Get the cheap copy.

I remember when Burroughs did an interview with Jerry Casale. And Casale spoke of midwestern misanthropy and the sense of shame about being a human. Well, in this diary, Burroughs gave full voice to his midwestern curmudgeon persona.

I almost croaked when I came across the following passage: "I must tell James: Please never conceal from me any nasty letters or reviews. I want the names of these creeps. The addresses, so I can put one of my curses on them. It will give me something to do. And jog a few higher-up elbows hiding behind the nameless a--holes. I will make a list and cross names off one after another. Like the new rich in St. Louis. At his daughter's coming-out party. Nobody showed. She went mad. He made a list of all the invitees who didn't show. And ruined them one after another. It gave meaning to his life. He crossed off the last name on his deathbed, gave a contented belch and died. He was a fully fulfilled evil old man."

The anti-drug-prohibition rants are tedious enough. But what's surprising is that he begrudges atheists just for being atheists. As if their mere existence was a personal insult to his non-denominational theistic yearnings: "I believe in God. Not omnipotent. He needs help now."

The cat-sentimentality is pretty icky. Burroughs ended up valuing humans only insofar as they're capable of being caretakers of cats: "If a plague should or will kill a third of the population, I can only pray that it affects not only humans but domestic animals, with special reference to dogs and cats. The picture of trillions of dispossessed cats is too horrible to be confronted."