Product Description

Author Burroughs' son, who died at of the age of 34, penned two shattering autobiographical novels which offer his vision of alienated youth at its most raw and uncensored. "A compelling narrative that balances the methedrine horrors with the outcast's romantic search for identity."--Rolling Stone.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #215009 in Books
• Published on: 1993-10-01
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 363 pages

Customer Reviews

Fascinating work
I was a close friend of Billy Jr. for many years, and knew his father, the immortal William S. Burroughs, when I founded the Santa Cruz Poetry Festival in the 1970's. The son was no mere imitation of the father, though the subject of these books, drug addiction, would lead you toward that conclusion. Billy was one of the saddest, most tragic figures I had ever known, and also one of the kindest, most entertaining and charming. He is testimony to the "offspring of greatness", syndrome: the curse of trying to emulate and duplicate the father. These are remarkable books, perhaps as relevent to the insanity of the 60's and 70's, the self indulgent, self-destructive underbelly of all that hope and optimism and freedom that Naked Lunch and Howl and Dharma Bums had represented to the 50's. Billy Jr. could write, Billy was a human yo-yo, full of pain and rage, resistant to society's conventions and ultimately his own worst enemey. I belive he had two liver transplants before he was 32. He told us on numerous occasions that he was present when his father shot his mother during an infamous, abortive game of "William Tell" in Mexico. I have never been able to verify that, as I never had the courage to ask Wiliam Sr. on the rare occasions I was with him. Anyway, very few writers are inseparable from their work. There was nothing fabricated in either Speed or Kentucky Ham: this is Billy Burroughs, Jr., son of a legend, a modest legend in his own right, and I don't think a study of the 60's would be complete without seeing this dark, painful, resilient, hopeful, despairing, all-too-brief mini-body of work left behind by Billy. It is almost a litmus test for which path you took at a very young age. If life was too painful to be lived, Billy took the right one. I"m not sure that's what he wanted, he just didn't know how to step outside himself for very long. I loved these books, and I loved Billy JR. James Dalessandro, author, Canary In A Coal Mine, Citizen Jane, Bohemian Heart and 1906

Amazing books
I never tire of reading these books and have read them over and over again. This book touches you especially if you have had an addiction to anything like drugs. William Jr can make you laugh and weep in the same chapter. These books leave you with a profound sadness but they stay with you even after you are done reading them. The thing is you are never done because I have returned to them over and over again. This is an honest look into the world of addiction. It's not a pretty picture but it is not a preachy book on the " evils " of drugs. It just describes the author's experience with speed. A terrific read. I know it will touch you as it has touched me. It is a shame that William Jr left us so early.

Salient points aplenty, entertainment as well.
Yes, Billy Junior was not his father: read this thinking of him as his own person with his own habit. That said, I was surprised how much impression this duo-novel had on me. For one thing, it's authentic. This guy knew his drugs and how to talk candidly about them. I found myself laughing with him, rooting for him when he started to get in trouble.

Another value this book has, especially the Kentucky Ham segment, is a crash course (no pun intended) on what can make a drug rehabilitation program actually have the effect that such things so seldom do: Bill Jr. suggests that addicts need the chance to "put in a new brain" and do it for themselves, without all the BS and indoctriation that come with most drug treatment facilities. The program Billy was involved with helped small groups of addicts to travel to Alaska and join fishing crews. While playing Eskimo for months he learned to re-acquaint himself with the rhythms of his body, the demands of surviving, and learn what the unpretentious life close to nature can often offer people who have forgotten the basics. (I wonder if programs like this still exist sometimes, ones without any of that "faith based" nonsense.) All told, a great book that any lover of drugs should have a gander at. It is, to my great delight, completely unjudgmental about drugs and their users: he simply decided enough was enough when it was time to.