Naked Lunch – William S. Burroughs

Joan Mirò painting while hallucinating and starving is art, Burroughs picking up a pen (or a typewriter) and rambling on a page while under the influence of all sorts of substances, in my opinion, is not.

Why should Naked Lunch be considered a seminal book in 20^th century history, I don’t know. Why couldn’t Burroughs just stare at a wall, or smash some things while high as a kite? The fact that he dared to write in those conditions is clearly not something condemnable, but there is a middle ground between that and being praised and hailed as a great writer for it. He had every right to write this book, but after 20 pages I really didn’t feel the need to read it (despite the fact that I did, because I have issues with closure etc.)

What I found even more frustrating was the fascinating final (relatively sober) report on various drugs and detox methods. 20 pages that, while maybe not a word of art, stimulate intellectual curiosity and can actually be read. More of that, or a novel factually based on that, would have been much appreciated.

The Shadow Line – Joseph Conrad

I always thought my first Conrad book would have been Heart of Darkness – not sure whether it was because that’s the one my high-school teacher was always talking about or because I had my mind blown by Apocalypse Now when I was 14. Instead, I ended up reading this first because it was picked as one of the 103 (random number, I know) most significant books of the 20^th century by the Italian newspaper La Repubblica – a wonderful collection that no doubt inspired me to read more.

I assumed Conrad’s writing would be dated, but at the end of the day if Verne’s adventurous stories aren’t dated for young adults (and oh they aren’t), why should Conrad’s be for supposed-to-be real adults? The Shadow Line is still a surprisingly enjoyable book, with its journey of self-discovery not made any less interesting by the passing of time.