Customer Reviews

The Western Lands (Picador Books)

5 star:		(11)
4 star:		(4)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

It's sad that since his death, the star of William S. Burroughs has been fading. But when this book was first released, I was working as the night foreman in a municipal garage in Detroit. I spent haunted Saturday nights at my desk, near the emergency phone, reading "The Western Lands" and when a worker came into the office, I'd read aloud from it. After a while, other workers came in and listened.

These man were white trash and those of the African persuasion. Some were hipsters, others were devout Christians. They could've been sleeping, they could've been goofing off, but they all seemed to understand what I was reading, and at certain passages the black guys would hoot and give each other "high fives."

Who IS this guy? they asked. They (we) all hated English class and hated being force-fed "literature." This, however, was something else.

I think poorly of literary critics, and it really matters little, in the long run, what their opinions are. What matters is that old Bill Lee wrote the obvious truth in such a way that it cut past the [horsefeathers].

The Western Lands has all the scatter-brained and scatological charm that any of WSB's finest portrays, but not only is this particular story, the third installment of the Cities of the Red Night trilogy, form at its best, the content transcends anything else he's written. In his old age, WSB had an incredible emotional sadness about him, and this novel, which becomes semi-autobiographical at its end, leaves you profoundly touched in a way Naked Lunch never did and few novels ever can. The whole thing is worth reading if nothing else for the Wishing Box chapter at the work's conclusion.

The trilogy to which this lucid novel belongs marked a slowing down of pace for this writer who had become so renown for his soaring and shocking books. Yet, especially in Place of the Dead Roads and Western Lands, his vision sinks in far more deeply and the sheer beauty of its imagery is the light behind the doors of perception which his previous work has kicked in. Always someone who showed no mercy to those who wanted to hide from reality and whose words were like bullets, here in the final part Burroughs grabs you by the throat by talking to you in a unexpectedly human voice of a world beyond death and humanity. He always was a poet, but here he truly sings, be it a swan song.

This is definitely Burroughs's most powerful book since Naked Lunch, and perhaps my favorite after that. It's a wonderful journey through the lands of the dead, and offers a few clues into Burroughs' personal beliefs on the subject and how he feels death should be approached and life to be lived. Definitely read the first two novels in the trilogy first, though. Burroughs' books have always been less about narrative and more about painting a picture. This is a beautiful picture.

Yes, that is a bold statement, but my opinion is unwavering. Perhaps not as shocking or unnerving as Naked Lunch, it still retains Burroughs' unique bite - his untimid voice.

This novel took me a complete two years to read, a sharp contrast to the two days it took me to read Naked Lunch. The intensity of his prose allowed me only to read a couple pages per day before I had to put it down and process his words. I felt throughout the novel I had to read each sentence several times, but it never bored me. In fact, the deeper I looked into each prose, the more and more I began understanding the man.

What made Naked Lunch so succesful was perhaps the array of inventive characters and thier situations. The most common character in The Western Lands happens to be Burroughs himself. Much of the novel is dedicated to him coming to terms with his approaching death.

It only became apparent to me later in the novel the situation in which Burroughs wrote. I feel like if I had realized the complete lack of social contact this man had, the better I would have read the earlier pages. By the time he wrote The Western Lands he has shot his wife, lost his lust and beatnik commrades.

I've now read a majority of Burroughs' novels. After reading this one, however, I'm going to find it hard to go back and finish his collection. There is simply no way they can be a thought compelling and inventive as this one.

I recommend this novel only to those familiar with his work. It is in no way a good first read, but if you are impressed with his earlier works I highly suggest this most impressive read!

Written in a non-linear form, Burroughs uses ancient Egyptian religious concepts as a springboard for a meditation on hell, life, death, sickness, and betrayal. He fluctuates between storytelling, autobiography, and reflections.

The book is dreamy, nightmarish, and at times violent. At times I wished I had a guidebook for the book to help give me more insight to deeper symbolism. Despite the serious and dark nature of the topics covered, he maintained a biting, tongue-in-cheek style that I loved.

I also enjoyed when he targeted certain aspects of the contradictory and hypocritical nature of Western society.

Worthy of a second read, for sure.

A rude and violent book of Burroughs which make think of Naked Lunch in the really violent moments with huge explosions and international conspirations. But this book is really hardcore and well done in the sense that it is the third book of the trilogy composed of Cities of the Red Night, Dead Roads. This book is the way to the land of the deads which is a difficult road with various cut-ups and flash forward. It is in a sense the new mythology for the electronic area, Burroughs imagine what it would be like if the pharaos lived in the subliminal electronic age, what humanity would be if the great moments of the world history where trapped with this sort of plot.

In the same time Burroughs create a new piece to assemble in his huge jigsaw puzzle, where secret agents mixed with Egyptian mythology, and where the symbolic discovered by the pharaos was a key to the new symbolic interpretation of our times.

While William S. Burroughs never makes it clear specifically where or what "The Western Lands" are, what is clear is his hellish vision of the journey there. He relates to us that "All the filth and horror, fear, hate disease and death of human history flows between you and the Western Lands." Utilizing ancient Egyptian and pseudo-Egyptian religious rituals and philosophy, Burroughs relentlessly describe scenes of disease, poisonings, impalings, decapitations and general mayhem and destruction while on the excursion to the promised lands. Religion is lampooned relentlessly by Burroughs as a force of intolerence and evil. A sizable section of the book is devoted to the maschinations of the dreaded centipede. All anyone would ever want to know (or not want to know) about this peculiar arthropod is here. A certain type of corn, enriched by the blue rays of the moon and then harvested and eaten by sizable populations, causes unimagable and extremely unappetizing physical reactions.

Yet there is a certain beauty and poetry in Burroughs' horrific imagery, which, I believe, achieves a level of art. "The Western Lands" is THE latter 20th century version of "Dante's Inferno." The old writer mentioned in the beginning and in the end of the book and who lives in a boxcar by the river may, perhaps, be William S. Burroughs himself. Those somewhat familiar with Burroughs' life are aware of his drug addictions and that he probably went through many of the horrific experiences described in the book. The journeyings to the "Western Lands" may have been his intense struggles towards recovery and sobriety. His classic, "Naked Lunch," describes Burroughs' reveries while coming off heroin addiction in a rehab clinic. Incredible as it may seem, Burroughs theme is ultimately positive. He tells us that one has cannot see heaven, and achieve redemption, unless one has constantly faced death, intense fear, and has literally lived through Hell.

Granted, it takes awhile before one can really appreciate this author for the humor and fantasmical plots he delivers. When I first starting reading Burroughs, specifically Cities of the Red Night, I was enchanted but didn't find him altogether funny -- now I read back on much of his material and find myself laughing outloud. Like the other books in the series -- all of which I have read (the Cities of the Red Night and the Place of Dead Roads are the other books in the series in respective order) -- we are given glimpse into madness, multiple hooks, sound logic in commentary of the world and abundant odd tirades (the Valley certainly was neat!) Many consider works of Burroughs prose and rightfully so; the storyline is not at all like that of your standard novel. In any event, it makes for splendid reading and is additionally great inspiration to anyone who seeks to write especially since it tells us it isn't always requisite to create in a manner that lands material fitting into a specific mold.

I liked this book much more then the Place of Dead Roads -- it seems more focused and more driven. I think I would probably rank it right alongside Cities of the Red Night, perhaps even a notch higher because it's so damn funny at times.

Review: Contains highly condensed scenarios in past present and future time. Rarefied and raw dream and after-death encounters and conflicts, with unforgettable characters in a multitude of hilarious satiric black humor routines, will stab you in the ribs with a poisoned quill. Not for the squeamish, dogmatic or uninformed. ¡novel biological mutations! Step right up. William S. Burroughs' examination of the function of the author is so candid and deeply moving that its authenticity can't be denied. The poems, "Breathe in your death" and "I WORK FOR THE BLACK HOLE,..." are, respectively, an exquisite cut-up and an informed, funny post-scientific verse. Who can award a Commander of Arts and Letters of this caliber less than 5 stars?

Like to offer a few simple pointers to help in navigating through this most accomplished and inspired of Burroughs' works. Starting with the title "The Western Lands," which in ancient Egyptian would read "Amenta," referring to the land of the dead who, by tradition, were always entombed to the west of Egypt. In present time, the most potent power accumulation is concentrated in the West. Suddenly you might recognize Western Culture as overwhelmed by material wealth, wielding the technology for total dominance/destruction, but metaphysically only "minutes away" from total bankruptcy. Burroughs wastes no words over this formula: spiritual bankruptcy = death. Species disappearing from the planet faster than the rising national debts.

Most important to understand, ladies and gentlemen, the possibility of much of his fiction as factual analogs. He delineates the 7 souls, Hollywood style, with deadly humor. The existence of Immortality isn't just the question of an eccentric old man. It's a question all civilizations face, and there's nothing frivolous about it when a dying culture sees it has no answers. Naturally, (profiting from the course of collapse) Nazis, Mafias, CIA, KGB and other boards and syndicates all have walk-on parts. All all all only to be topped and toppled by the inexorable expansion of the white light of Margaras (Skt.). The cat Margaras is the agent of total awareness and observation. Break this book open at any page and be amazed.