Naked Lunch is destroying my soul. That’s right, I said it. Maybe I’m not intelligent enough, patient enough, or f*cked up enough, but that book is running me ragged.
A few posts ago I wrote about a trip I took with boyfriend to the library. It was on that trip that I checked out the book Naked Lunch, thinking I’d have a month to read it before it needed to be returned. Although I hate not having my own classroom, subbing does have its benefits when you’re working through graduate school and a blog project that revolves around reading. I read an entire book today during a 1st period exam and the teacher’s normal planning period. Don’t be jealous of how awesome I am, because none of this matters when I can’t finish a damn book.
Naked Lunch is about drugs. I think. Maybe it’s not. I think I’m right. Really, I’m sure it’s about drugs, but there’s also a lot of sodomy and deviant sexual behavior. But everyone is on drugs, thinking about drugs, or selling drugs when these acts are taking place. You know I’m not a fan of banning books, but the amount of times things are shoved up someone’s butt in the book is ridiculous. I would NEVER teach this to high school kids. Well, I wouldn’t be able to teach it because not only am I tremendously confused, I also haven’t finished it.
That’s right; I gave up and returned the book. Say what?
I couldn’t help it. The book was insanely overdue (I paid 6 dollars in late fees for three books. SIX DOLLARS) and I knew I wasn’t going to touch it again for some time, so I returned it. I’m not happy with myself, and I know as part of my goal, I’ll have to revisit it, but for now I needed to put it down. Maybe it’s because I’ve never done heroin that it didn’t make sense. I’ll have to find someone who has and ask, because I’m not willing to try it just to understand what the hell Burroughs is writing about.
I like to think I’m a moderately intelligent human being, and when it comes to English (and music) I’m slightly above average, but that’s only because I studied both of those subjects in college. I have more education in those subjects than your average person. So is my intelligence fabricated? Am I really just a slave to the educational system? Can I not interpret literature without a professor to guide my thoughts, classmates to help verbalize my insights, critics to paraphrase and cite in essays?
Or am I reading too much into things?
Literature is hard; anyone who’s read a book that was outside of his or her comfort zone can attest to that, but as a teacher, I feel like I should be able to get things. And I don’t, not with this book. Other novels and books have lacked depth without engaging in discussion, but this one makes no sense. I broke down enough to return it and take a respite for now; when I check it out again, probably over Thanksgiving break, or maybe I’ll put it off till Christmas, I might break down even more and simply Google it. I can’t be the only person out there who was bewildered by this book.
I understand a lot of things, but I’ve had excellent guidance along the way. AP Lit was there when I read The Sound and the Fury for the first time – I’ve never forgotten La, our teacher, reading the beginning of Benjy’s part in a slow, monotonous voice, exaggerating his mental abilities so we could understand why his section read the way it did – or Mrs. Dalloway or even Their Eyes were Watching God. I had amazing teachers and professors to help me along the way. So now I’m stuck, floundering in my own shortcomings.
In order to make myself feel better, I picked up (literally, I found it on a shelf in a store as one of those take one, read it, pass it on type books) Chelsea Handler’s My Horizontal Life, thinking it would be a nice, easy read to take my mind off of my own failure.
GOD that book was awful. One review compared her to David Sedaris, which is so far from the truth, I can’t even believe it was a thought. He is brilliant; she, on the other hand, is self-indulgent and really, it reads like an attempt to rationalize her sleeping around for years and years. It doesn’t scream feminism; rather, as a person who generally enjoys Chelsea Lately, it seemed like a bunch of crap. The best part? When she mentions William Burroughs being bored by her attempt at comedy and writing and shooting up heroin in order to take his mind off her lack of entertainment.
At least she’s remotely well read.
Remember to check out our International Reading Club if you want to participate in an internet based book club, and to like my facebook page for updates on anything and everything. Including how I’m dealing with the amount of drugs and butt sex in my current literary state.
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