WILLIAM BURROUGHS

Last words, the final journals

book, flamingo

Everybody has his/her own picture of William Burroughs, usually containing pictures of an old, slim and a little slick man, with very deep and forgiving eyes and an aura that said, I have seen it all. Of course, his books always were heavily autobiographic, so everyone who read Burroughs probably had a pretty good look into his life and thoughts. With “Last words” we get the opportunity to take a very private and intimate glimpse into Burroughs thinking. Of course, these are the ramblings and inklings of an old man, but not just some old man. He was handed journals by his producer and friend James Grauerholz, in which he wrote off and on, by hand, whatever stroke his mind at the time. He was already over 80 years old and he had people, friends mostly, come over and help him, fix his dinner, take him to the doctors or to the shooting range. Burroughs writes about everyday stuff as well as conspiracy theories, about the current political agenda as well as about deeply emotional troublings, such as the death of his cats. The book, as well as Burroughs life in those days obviously, was not centred around one theme or issue. This man was always way more than just the high priest of drug abuse, as some would have him, but a man of letters, an artist and a chronologist who found the most inspiring source for his art in himself. And who wasn’t afraid to shoot up.

There is not a lot happening in this old life, but that is no negative. Firstly, Burroughs has lead a very exciting life full of adventures and highs and lows, so memory serves him with all the excitement he needs. Secondly, he is an old man and he deserved his freedom and peace. God, sometimes I wish, I could live like he did in his latter years (still at least 50 more years to go). And thirdly, Burroughs has a magnificent mind and as long as you have a mind to keep you company, you are never alone or bored. Moreover, Burroughs still has his very own, crackling style of writing. This peculiar mix of southern slang, educated metaphors and terminology and pulp-straightforwardness, which makes him so good to read.

The anecdotes and thoughts rendered in “Last words” are more reminiscent of his later writings, especially the way his thoughts jump from issue to issue, linger for some days and then spring up again or keep returning constantly in variations, reminds a lot of his cut-up-technique. With the first pages, the sentences written down make no real sense at all, but the deeper you dig into the pages, the more a structure emerges. A structure of thinking and perceiving the world. There is the war against drugs, memories of old friends (Ginsberg, Kerouac,…), books and animals, and there is a lot of fantasy. Burroughs constantly creates pictures, dialogues and scenes from some cue he has given himself, which he fills with life. The poetical force of these last writings lies within the power of the mind of Burroughs, which evolves between the lines and pages.

Most of all, “Last Words” makes the proper mantle piece for Burroughs’ enormous body of work. The best way to sum it all up and close the case. How much of this was edited? Well, I sure hope not that much, since the very last words in this book would honour the closing of every book or life:

“Love! What is it?

Most natural painkiller what there is.

LOVE”