One of the finest memoirs I've ever read, I could not put it down. It shows what the real bottom of hitting bottom in addiction is like, without the slightest bit of almost...bragging that some memoirists have done, like in Permanent Midnight, where you believe that the author is sort of secretly impressed by his low, that he's showing it off, that he's manipulating the reader. The real story of the low is horrible, it's not glamorous but it is spectacular. I truly did not understand alcoholism until I read this book. Burroughs sense of irony is brilliant. He uses it to explore a point, to take a good look at himself, not to hold the reader at arm's length or, and here I find myself saying it once again, show off. I think every Burroughs book has at least three brilliant thoughts or sentences, that are so good you want to write them down and email them to your friends, that show you something utterly familiar in an absolutely original way. This is like David Sedaris on ... well, crack. Or alcohol. I appreciate Burroughs surviving to write on. And on.
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