Where to begin on this chaotic, limitless, disrupting novel. If it is Burroughs intention to discuss his theory of language as a virus, then in some respects he has succedded. His use of the cut-up method is in no way appealing or astounding to me, but rather mind numbing. I believed in the beginning that I might possibly adapt to this "brilliant" form of writing, lacking in puncuation, fludity, and commen sense. Maybe it is my conditioning to "normalcy" but I soon lost interest. This book gave me no path which to read upon, but rather jolted me from place to place with no reason and no transition. I need to be able to gather one coherent meaning from a page, but instead my mind was continually cleared and I was left with the constant feeling of "what the fuck." The subjects of discussion also made this novel unyeilding. Passing through the pages, a sense of meaning was lost to talk to anal penetration, spurts of semen, and exploding diarrhea. It wasn't the homo-eroticism that irked me, but the unnecessary addition of any eroticism. If intentioned to prove a point, it failed miserably for me. One could debate the need of meaning, the definition of digusting, and the boundries of writing but these are all found on personal levels-to be tested by others, but to be chosen by you. Norman Mailer's statement that "Burroughs is the only American novelist living today who may conceivably be possessed by genius" is mystery to me. Obviously his writing is way over my head, and out my reach. Something I'm not sure I would even like to try and reach.
Maybe his words were the virus, for they surely infected me, definately made me sick and most certainly plagued my thoughts.
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