How strongly did
William Burroughs’ autobiographical book, ‘Junky’, influence subsequent
generations of users and non-users?
William Burroughs’ ‘Junky’ was first
published in 1953 under the pseudonym of ‘William Lee’. Six years later, following
successful treatment for his heroin addiction, he finished ‘The Naked Lunch’.
And forty years after that, Penguin reprinted the book as a part of their
Modern Classics series. The cover of the book has a cut ‘n’ paste feel to it –
the review clippings it has on the back cover look just like that, review
clippings. On the front of the book, there is a small typed message – ‘Keep out
of reach of children’ – and along the spine it reads ‘FOR INFORMATION ONLY’.
Penguin, at least, are assured of the book’s influence.
“Before Trainspotting, there was Junky: the
original,
first-hand
account of heroin addiction which outraged
‘50s America
and influenced generations to come.”
- from the back cover of my edition of ‘Junky’
When I first
read ‘Junky’, I was amazed by the amount of factual detail relating to
narcotics which it included. It appeared to me as though Burroughs had written
a blueprint for the would-be addict to follow, albeit one which would be most
successful in 1950’s America. However, Burroughs was unstinting in his
descriptions of both the positive and negative sides to all form of drug use
and abuse. Whilst I personally had found ‘Junky’ to be an effective literary
deterrent from addiction because of this, was it possible that others were
drawn towards drugs having read this autobiographical account? In short, how profoundly could this work be
said to have influenced its readers? It is this issue of influence which I
shall be looking at in greater detail within this essay.
The media influence
on moral attitudes has long been debated. From the banning of ‘Lady Chatterly’s
Lover’ because of a desire to protect ‘decent’ sensibilities, to Stanley
Kubrick’s decision to delete ‘A Clockwork Orange’ because of a spate of
‘copycat’ incidents, that which is read, watched or seen as a form of
entertainment by some is often seen as morally injurious by others. Humans –
particularly children – learn from all which is around them, and there are some
who would seek to protect them from what they have decided is damaging, at all
costs. Ironically, it is the newspaper media – the tabloids in particular –
whom very often manage to expose their readers to licentious and damaging
material, about which the public would otherwise be unaware, by writing derogatory
articles on certain practices or forms of entertainment. Undoubtedly, without
communication mediums of this ilk, books such as ‘Junky’ would never gain such
a fearsome reputation. Newspapers, I believe, have a far more profound affect
on the lives of their readers than do books, if merely because only the
majority of the latter will describe themselves as being fiction. All
forms of the media help to shape people’s minds, by dispensation of a
combination of facts and opinions. It is the degree to which this
influence can be said to occur which is so difficult to determine.
‘Does
the media fan fake panics or forecast possible problems?
Indeed,
does the media create real problems or merely reflect them?’
( Davies & Bitton, 1990: p811 )
Davies &
Bitton admit the difficulty in answering such questions, even in specific
cases, because of the absence of ‘long term serious study of the relationship
between the media coverage of and actual incidence of drug use’. Such studies –
such as those conducted by the Glasgow University Media Group in 1976, 1980 and
1985 – have proved most effective in aiding our understanding of the
relationships within industry and trade unions, and also those caught up in the
disarmament issue.
Davies and
Bitton ( 1990; p812 ) argue that the way in which the ( tabloid ) media
mythologises and sensationalises drugs and drug-use leads to a misinformed
panicking public, whose clamouring for urgent action then leads to misguided
policy decisions. Naturally, the seemingly universal media policies of
‘exaggeration, distortion and amplification’ contribute little of worth to the
fight against drugs. Davies and Bitton also pick up on the ‘chicken and the
egg’ thread of the argument as to the media’s nefarious influence over the general
public – if the population were not kept informed on subjects such as drug-use,
anorexia or spousal-abuse, would the incidence rate be lowered? Do the media
discourage with their horrific tales more than they encourage? Even the BBC has
suffered criticisms on this subject – hospitals nation-wide have noted that,
following transmission of viciously unglamorous ‘over-dose’ episodes of
‘Casualty’, the number of attempted over-doses shows dramatic rise.
In 1997,
children’s author Melvyn Burgess found himself ‘embroiled in a bitter
controversy’, following the publication of his novel ‘Junk’. This book, which
has been described by its publishers as "an intense, uncompromising
novel about heroin addiction", won The Library Association's Carnegie Medal.
Despite Burgess’ insistences that “you couldn't read ‘Junk’ and think, 'Wow,
I'm going to do that'”, he has still come in for heavy criticism for bringing
the subject of heroin addiction to a teenage audience. Burgess however, is not
reticent over his decision – he feels that younger readers, many of whom
statistics prove will already have been exposed to drugs, deserve ‘Junk’. Burgess intended ‘Junk’ to be in part depressing for his
readers, and also to have a positive influence on them. His younger brother had
died from heroin-addiction related medical-complications, and Burgess wished to
bring the painful reality of that situation to a teenage readership. Whilst he
does detail the positive effects which heroin has, like Burroughs Burgess does
not spare the reader from the stark realities of its more unpleasant side. ( Bunyan, 1997 ) To my mind, Burgess’ ‘Junk’
has caused such a furore primarily because it is a described as a ‘children’s
book’. The idea remains ingrained within Western society that children need to
be protected from such literary works, as sure as everyone needs to be
protected from debauchery and violence on film, although adults can read what
they choose. Even adults however, would be hard pressed to find a ‘realistic’
book on heroin use and abuse which did not serve to put them off the drug. In
committing themselves to a realistic novel on this subject, authors are bound
to write of both the positive and negative aspects of addiction, and almost all
of their readers ought to be able to see that the former does not outweigh the
latter in incentive terms. Neither Burroughs’ ‘Junky’, nor its closest 90’s
equivalent of ‘Trainspotting’ can be accused of glamourising heroin use – both
demonstrate in vicious graphic detail the pleasurable effects and the horrors (
both real and imagined ) which spring from smack use. Neither serve as adverts
for H.
‘I have learned the junk equation. Junk is not,
like alcohol or weed, a means to increased enjoyment of life. Junk is not a kick.
It is a way of life.’
( Burroughs,
1953; pXVI )
‘Junky’ truly is an encyclopaedic manual for
heroin use and abuse, Burroughs even going so far as to include a glossary - a
sort of English-Addict dictionary if you will - of the ‘jive talk’ terms he has
used ( 1953; p153-8 ). The junky’s life is depicted as unenviable, if filled
with momentary pleasure. As with Irvine Welsh’s ‘Trainspotting’, we see
characters destroyed by junk – both figuratively ( breakdowns, arrests ) and
literally ( deaths ). Whilst it is a didactic work, to my mind it does not
serve as an incentive to become an addict.
‘You
don’t wake up one morning and decide to be a drug addict. It takes at least
three months’ shooting twice a day to get any habit at all… I think it no
exaggeration to say it takes about a year and several hundred injections to
make an addict’. ( Burroughs, 1953;
pXV )
William
Burroughs’ first introduction to narcotics came in the form of a thieving
shipyard worker called Norton, who had stolen some boxes containing syrettes of
morphine tartrate, and wanted Burroughs to help him sell them on. At that time,
he says, it did not occur to him to try it, but after agreeing to sell it onto
some shady contacts, he used one of the syrettes out of curiosity. ( Burroughs,
1953; p1-2 ) Burroughs’ first experience of morphine was, although initially
relaxing, ultimately unpleasant. He hallucinated vividly, experienced a
profound feeling of fear, and was nauseous for an entire day. ( Burroughs,
1953; p7 ) As if this was not disincentive enough for the reader, Burrough’s
contact for this first batch of syrettes even derided the drug, although ( or
perhaps because ) he himself was a user, describing it as ‘the worst thing that
can happen to a man’. ( Burroughs, 1953; p8 )
As the book progresses, further details of
Burroughs’ growing habit and accompanying shabby lifestyle are unfurled. That
this is a man whom ‘enjoyed a well-to-do childhood in St. Louis’ you would not
credit, although the remark made of him by the father of a school-mate at his
private school – ‘that boy looks like a sheep-killing dog’ – seems to have all
the more resonance and truth to it with reference to this Burroughs’ later
life. ( Ballard, 1997; p132 )
It is my belief
that Burroughs’ ‘Junky’ is actually far more likely to turn the reader to
marijuana than it is to heroin. He states uncategorically that it is
‘positively not habit forming’, and describes its’ users as a ‘gregarious,
sensitive and paranoiac… sociable lot’, the very antithesis of individuals with
criminal intent. He also feels that grass is an aphrodisiac, and would happily
recommend the increased pleasure of sex while under the influence. Burroughs
also notes that the most dangerous side-effect which weed has is disturbing
your sense of time and spatial relationships, so as actions such as driving are
inadvisable ( Burroughs, 1953; p18-19 ). By contrast, his descriptions of
junkies and their sickly desperation for their next fix is far more disturbing,
and wholly off-putting.
Although
Burroughs does write of the pleasurable effects of using heroin, far more time
is devoted to the more negative side-effects. Burroughs writes that junkies
know no honour, and are willing to steal other people’s ‘stash’ to appease
their own desire for a fix. ( Burroughs, 1953; p21 ) He says that heroin
addicts are loath to bathe, as the feeling of water on the skin becomes
unpleasant ( Burroughs, 1953; p22 ), and details how heroin ‘short-circuits
sex’ for the addict, leaving him totally free from social or carnal desires (
Burroughs, 1953; p124 ), his long-suffering wife describing him as akin to a
building with all the lights out when he was using ( Burroughs, 1953; p117 ).
Burroughs also describes in vicious detail the way that Gains, a long-time junky,
was forced to shoot up into his skin as his veins and even his arteries began
to shrink back away from the probing needle. ( Burroughs, 1953; p43 )
The evils of
‘junk sickness’ are also described in great detail. Some people, Burroughs
says, suffer from diarrhoea and vomiting whilst asthmatics are prone to spasms
of the bronchial tubes which can, in extreme cases, prevent breathing. He
himself suffered a lowering of blood pressure, and accompanying feelings of
extreme weakness, as though ‘all the cells in the body are suffocating’. (
Burroughs, 1953; p92 ) He even states that during this period ‘a man might die
simply because he could not stand to stay in his body’. ( Burroughs, 1953; p97
) Reading of all of these side-effects, one would have to be incredibly
blinkered ( or perhaps simply stupid ) to decide that the pro’s outweighed the
con’s when it came to using heroin.
‘Junk takes everything and gives
nothing but insurance against junk sickness.’
( Burroughs, 1953;
p125 )
‘Junky’ is a
balanced read, and it is also highly informative. It expands the readers’
life-knowledge in a way uncredited, particularly for such a slim volume. In
that, at least, it is highly influential.
Having
progressed through the one-hundred and fifty-eight pages of the
autobiographical ‘Junky’, the reader suddenly finds himself with a wealth of
information at his fingertips. He now knows the varied methods by which you can
take heroin ( Burroughs, 1953; p7, 9, 60 ), and the best ways to take bennys (
Burroughs, 1953; p15 ), the hallucinogen peyote ( Burroughs, 1953; p145-6 ),
and how best to mix up a speed-ball of coke and heroin ( Burroughs, 1953; p124
). He can competently work his way around US narcotics laws ( Burroughs, 1953;
p18, 78-80, 142 ), and is aware of the policing strategies for making a junky
become a stool-pigeon. ( Burroughs, 1953; p56-7 ) The reader now understands
that while demerol and paregoric are reasonably effective in treating junk
sickness, they cannot be compared to the ‘healing powers’ of codeine. (
Burroughs, 1953; p68, 97 ) He also knows that you can get a morphine
prescription from a doctor if you claim to have facial neuralgia, or trouble
with gallstones or kidney stones ( Burroughs, 1953; p20-1 ), and that, at least
in the 1950’s, one could obtain boxfuls of morphine at wholesale prices if a
permit was applied for from the Mexican government ( Burroughs, 1953; p119-20
). He is unlikely to be phased by the sight of brown heroin, as this colouring
is common in Mexican imports, and is due to it frequently being cut with opium
( Burroughs, 1953; p28 ). He is also aware of the best strategies to being a
successful heroin-pusher, dope seller and ‘lush-worker’, even knowing exactly
how best to empty the pockets of a sleeping drunk so as to pay for your next
score ( Burroughs, 1953; p41-59, 17, 32-5 ). Lastly, and perhaps most
peculiarly, the reader will also have a ridiculously extensive knowledge of
citrus fruit farming and raising cotton crops in the Rio Grande Valley (
Burroughs, 1953; p105-11 ), and will know that pimps are always possessors of a
large penis ( Burroughs, 1953; p77 ). Just as the effects of the mass-media
upon their reading populace are hard to gauge, the ways in which these nuggets
of information will be used by Burroughs readers is difficult to ascertain. One
conclusion however is clear – given the facts presented within this book. any
reader of reasonable intelligence will be able to come away from ‘Junky’ with
his mind made up to steer clear from heroin. Evidently, that by 1984 Britain
had at least 100,000 heroin addicts ( MacGregor, 1989; p3 ) is not a statistic
which can be blamed squarely upon William Burroughs and his legacy – neither is
he the root cause of current estimations putting America’s drug users at a
total of forty million ( Evans-Pritchard, 1996 ). If their motivations were not
literary-inspired, what other reasoning do people find to indulge in illegal
drug-use?
‘You
become a narcotics addict because you do not have strong motivations in any other
direction. Junk wins by default.’
( Burroughs, 1953; pXV )
The rising
popularity of heroin use in Britain in the early 80’s has been attributed, at
least in part, to the indisputable increase in the quantities supplied to this
country, and also the fall in its’ street-value. ( MacGregor, 1989; p1-2 )
Heroin was more readily available, and was also becoming cheaper. But this not
reasoning enough. Cochrane’s work on ‘psychopharmacology’ in the 1980’s
suggested that heroin users did not become addicts purely due to
pharmacological responses, but were also affected by a range of other – mainly
social – factors ( McDonald, 1994; p7 ).
Craig and
Brown’s 1975 research found that the most commonly cited reason for Americans
trying heroin was simple curiosity, whilst one year later, work in the US by
Stephens and McBride showed that heroin was usually first taken into the body
whilst in the company of friends. In the UK by contrast, it was found by
Bennett and Wright in 1986 that ‘peer pressure’ played little part in an
individuals’ decision to begin using heroin. ( Cousins & Bentall, 1989;
p1467 ) This latter finding is disputed however by those within the fashion
industry. The American model James King first tried heroin at the age of
fourteen, when it was offered to her by her photographer’s assistant. The
ex-model Iris Palmer, blames the high pressures of the fashion industry for the
drugs-habits of ever-younger models. It is seen as ‘the norm’, and therefore
socially acceptable within that world. For as long as the individuals are
profitable, the industry does not care what addictive habits they form. Taking
heroin, it is even noted, can actually be useful in fashion shoots – in a
practice known as ‘grouching out’, the photographer props up his subject before
she passes out. As she comes to, the photographer will snap her with a
‘faraway, sexy look’ in her eyes ( Wilson, 1998 ).
In Britain in
the 1980’s, the demand for drugs was explained in two different ways. The
‘Right’ felt that the root of the problem was a corrupting criminal element
preying on certain vulnerable and morally weak youths. By contrast, the ‘soft
Left’ felt that a depressed, deprived and unemployed British youth were being
driven to drugs by an uncaring society and its’ Government. In response to
this, evidence emerged to prove that addiction was classless ( MacGregor, 1989;
p3-5 ). However, unhappiness and dissatisfaction are also unconstrained by
class boundaries. The Royal College of Psychiatrists ( 1987; p41 ) suggest that
drug experimentation might be initiated in some as a form of self-medication to
alleviate personal anxieties or depression. They stress ( p40, 43 ) that youths
who begin experimenting with heroin rarely do so because they have been
corrupted by an ‘evil drug pusher’ or by society’s ‘permissiveness’. Instead,
the reasons are more likely to be a combination of curiosity, peer pressure,
and other, more personal factors. They believe ( p45 ) that illicit drug use is
predominant in youth culture because such an age is traditionally one of
experimentation, risk-taking and adventure, when opportunities to challenge
authority are seized and acceptance of one’s peers is constantly sought. This
systematic rebellion, which has been expressed through the use and abuse of heroin
since the 1960’s ( McDonald, 1994; p11 ) is, they feel, as universal as Gossop
( 1993, p1 ) believes drug-use to be. He mentions that, of all the cultures in
the world, the Eskimos are perhaps the only ones whom have no traditional drug
of their own as their ‘bleak and uncompromising land’ would not allow such
cultivation. ( I would add only that perhaps this reasoning ought to be cause
enough for the Inuit to invest in a narcotic distraction of some sort… )
‘I
tried it [ heroin ] as a matter of curiosity…. Most addicts I have talked to
report a similar experience. They did not start using drugs for any reason they
can remember. They just drifted along until they got hooked.’
( Burroughs, 1953; pXV )
Within all of
the explanatory texts which I had read, the one universal which they all shared
was that none mentioned the influence – injurious or otherwise – of the
literary media on the world’s drug users, or would-be users. In a time when
even the very act of injecting heroin can be interpreted by feminists as
‘metaphoric gender warfare’ ( Young, 1994; p65 ), it seems odd that there is
little research engaged in studying the links between literature and drug use
and abuse. Whether this is because the subject has been considered and
discarded as untrue or unlikely, I don’t know. Perhaps more weight is given to
the medium of the moving picture because television and video are currently
seen to hold far more sway over the minds and actions of the Western world –
the release of the films of Irvine Welsh’s ‘Trainspotting’ and ‘The Acid House’
caused a greater furore than his publishing of the books from which they were
adapted. Films are currently seen by many to be more accessible to ( and
influential upon ) impressionable youths than books – copy-cat killings are far
more likely to be blamed upon a film such as ‘Psycho’ or ‘Fight Club’ than on
the books which preceded them. It ought to be remembered however that those
whom are so profoundly influenced in this way by the media – be it in the form
of books, records or films – are to be seen as slightly unbalanced anyway. The
form of media which that person was exposed to cannot accept the full
responsibility for that person’s actions; after all, humans have the power to
ignore as well as comply with the force of suggestion. Even if Burroughs’
‘Junky’ were to be found to be far more in favour of the reader trying heroin,
it would still require a certain type of personality to feel sufficiently moved
to do so.
In 1964, Chein,
Lee Gerard and Rosenfeld undertook research on typifying characteristics of
heroin addiction. They found that such addicts were typified by their extremely
narrow and limited views on themselves, and also by their extremely negative
expectations about the world around them ( Peele, 1988; p171 ). These attitudes
are not typical to those of voracious readers, particularly not fans of the
Beat Generation of which Burroughs was a key player.
J.G. Ballard, a man who has described ‘The Naked Lunch’ as ‘one of the
most original and important novels written since the Second World War’ ( 1997;
p134 ), would argue that Burroughs’ stylistic legacy has had a far
greater influence over subsequent generations of readers, than has his books’
narcotics bent, even describing him as important an innovator as James Joyce.
Burroughs refused to stick to the ‘stylistic conventions of the traditional
oral novel’; his narratives are not always chronological or sequential, but
they do make full use of our language and its idioms. ( 1997; p126-8 )
Burroughs himself might well disagree, having repeatedly asserted that all
forms of addiction are counter-productive to writing, and that his only
positive gain from his fifteen-year period of addiction was ‘the knowledge that
he garnered about the bizarre, carnival milieu in which the drug victim is
preyed upon as victim’ ( McHenry, 1993; p665 ). The fact remains, however, that
when a reader has finished ‘Junky’, he is more likely to seek out another of
Burroughs’ literary works than he is ‘works’ by which he may shoot up. I
personally am a fan of William Burroughs, and love his books, but I would no
more become a junky out of homage to his works than I would accidentally shoot
my partner while playing William Tell. Reading this book has simply meant that
I am supremely well-informed as to all aspects of life of the heroin user. As a
consequence of this, my resolve to avoid the drug has been strengthened – in my
case at least, ‘Junky’ has been a positive influence.
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Last revised: 28/07/01