"Naked Lunch" 7.5

Jazmin 2022-03-21 09:02:12

It is said that the Beats respected improvisation, taking drugs first, and then coding when the body became hot and strange hallucinations appeared.

What they write is not a novel, but a "true" record of what they have seen and heard after superimposing the medicinal effect filter.

Let Cronenberg come to film and television, it is really a meeting of gold and jade.

Well, the metaphor of "Golden Wind and Jade Dew" really needs to be considered, those pains, desires, loss, visions, those beetles, centipedes, mouthparts, anus, mucus, uh uh uh, typical Cronenberg.

In a very cult way, it visualizes the creative dilemma faced by writers and the process of creating through drugs. Those who have turned back and forth over and over again have become obsessed with talking through anus or erection once they are struck. The beetle typewriter, the insecticide powder, and the lingering urge to kill his wife.

It is enough to understand this step, and the rest do not need to be understood. Burroughs and Cronenberg have no intention of making you understand.

At the beginning, the protagonist discusses writing with his two writer friends——

One of them insisted that the work should write down the author's most authentic perception and experience, and that revision is a departure from the original idea and a sinful lie; It is a sin to produce the best work; the protagonist advocates the eradication of all reason.

I like to revise. When revising the article, I can make corrections and even make trade-offs from a more objective and comprehensive standpoint. This is the first time I bury my head in writing, and I am unable to do so.

America in the 1960s and 1970s was charming and ugly, and in the end, it was ugly.

View more about Naked Lunch reviews

Extended Reading

Naked Lunch quotes

  • Yves Cloquet: I've seen you around, but I had no idea you were queer.

    Bill Lee: Queer?

    Yves Cloquet: [leers] I saw you arrive with those three Interzone boys. What an entrance. You all looked very... familiar with each other.

    Bill Lee: [gulps] Queer. A curse. Been in our family for generations. The Lees have always been perverts. I shall never forget the unspeakable horror that froze the lymph in my glands when the baneful word seared my reeling brain - I was a homosexual. I thought of the painted simpering female impersonators I'd seen in a Baltimore nightclub. Could it be possible I was one of those subhuman things? I walked the streets in a daze like a man with a light concussion. I would've destroyed myself. And a wise old queen - Bobo, we called her - taught me that I had a duty to live and bear my burden proudly for all to see. Poor Bobo came to a sticky end - he was riding in the Duke Devanche's Hispano Suissa when his falling hemorrhoids blew out of the car and wrapped around the rear wheel. He was completely gutted leaving an empty shell sitting there on the giraffe skin upholstry. Even the eyes and the brain went with a horrible "shlupping" sound. The Duke says he would carry that ghastly "shlup" with him to his mausoleum.

  • Bill Lee: Did I ever tell you about the man who taught his asshole to talk? His whole abdomen would move up and down you dig farting out the words. It was unlike anything I had ever heard. This asshole talk had sort of a gut frequency. It hit you right down there like you gotta go. You know when the old colon gives you the elbow and it feels sorta cold inside, and you know all you have to do is turn loose? Well this talking hit you right down there, a bubbly, thick stagnant sound, a sound you could smell. This man worked for a carnival you dig, and to start with it was like a novelty ventriliquist act. Real funny, too, at first. He had a number he called The Better Ole that was a scream, I tell you. I forget most of it but it was clever. Like, "Oh I say, are you still down there, old thing?" "Nah I had to go relieve myself." After a while the asshole started talking on its own. He would go in without anything prepared and his asshole would ad-lib and toss the gags back at him every time. Then it developed sort of teeth-like little raspy in-curving hooks and start eating. He thought this was cute at first and built an act around it, but the asshole would eat its way through his pants and start talking on the street, shouting out it wanted equal rights. It would get drunk, too, and have crying jags nobody loved it and it wanted to be kissed same as any other mouth. Finally it talked all the time day and night, you could hear him for blocks screaming at it to shut up, and beating it with his fist, and sticking candles up it, but nothing did any good and the asshole said to him, "It is you who will shut up in the end. Not me. Because we dont need you around here any more. I can talk and eat AND shit." After that he began waking up in the morning with a transparent jelly like a tadpoles tail all over his mouth. This jelly was what the scientists call un-D.T., Undifferentiated Tissue, which can grow into any kind of flesh on the human body. He would tear it off his mouth and the pieces would stick to his hands like burning gasoline jelly and grow there, grow anywhere on him a glob of it fell. So finally his mouth sealed over, and the whole head would have have amputated spontaneous - except for the EYES you dig. Thats one thing the asshole COULDN'T do was see. It needed the eyes. But nerve connections were blocked and infiltrated and atrophied so the brain couldnt give orders any more. It was trapped in the skull, sealed off. For a while you could see the silent, helpless suffering of the brain behind the eyes, then finally the brain must have died, because the eyes WENT OUT, and there was no more feeling in them than a crabs eyes on the end of a stalk.