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Last Words: The Final Journals
Last Words: The Final Journals of William S. Burroughs is the most intimate book ever written by William S. Burroughs, author of Naked Lunch and one of the most celebrated literary outlaws of our time. Laid out as diary entries of the last nine months of Burroughs's life, Last Words spans the realms of cultural criticism, personal memoir, and fiction. Classic Burroughs concerns -- literature, U.S. drug policy, the state of humanity, his love for his cats -- permeate the book. Most significantly, Last Words contains some of the most personal work Burroughs has ever written, a final reckoning with his life and regrets, and his reflections on the deaths of his friends Allen Ginsberg and Timothy Leary. It is a poignant portrait of the man, his life, and his creative process -- one that never quit, not even in the shadow of death.
273 pages, Paperback
First published February 1, 2000
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About the author
William S. Burroughs
448 books7,039 followersWilliam Seward Burroughs II, (also known by his pen name William Lee) was an American novelist, short story writer, essayist, painter, and spoken word performer.
A primary figure of the Beat Generation and a major postmodernist author, he is considered to be "one of the most politically trenchant, culturally influential, and innovative artists of the 20th century".
His influence is considered to have affected a range of popular culture as well as literature. Burroughs wrote 18 novels and novellas, six collections of short stories and four collections of essays.
Five books have been published of his interviews and correspondences. He also collaborated on projects and recordings with numerous performers and musicians, and made many appearances in films.
He was born to a wealthy family in St. Louis, Missouri, grandson of the inventor and founder of the Burroughs Corporation, William Seward Burroughs I, and nephew of public relations manager Ivy Lee. Burroughs began writing essays and journals in early adolescence. He left home in 1932 to attend Harvard University, studied English, and anthropology as a postgraduate, and later attended medical school in Vienna. After being turned down by the Office of Strategic Services and U.S. Navy in 1942 to serve in World War II, he dropped out and became afflicted with the drug addiction that affected him for the rest of his life, while working a variety of jobs. In 1943 while living in New York City, he befriended Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac, the mutually influential foundation of what became the countercultural movement of the Beat Generation.
Much of Burroughs's work is semi-autobiographical, primarily drawn from his experiences as a heroin addict, as he lived throughout Mexico City, London, Paris, Berlin, the South American Amazon and Tangier in Morocco. Finding success with his confessional first novel, Junkie (1953), Burroughs is perhaps best known for his third novel Naked Lunch (1959), a controversy-fraught work that underwent a court case under the U.S. sodomy laws. With Brion Gysin, he also popularized the literary cut-up technique in works such as The Nova Trilogy (1961–64). In 1983, Burroughs was elected to the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters, and in 1984 was awarded the Ordre des Arts et des Lettres by France. Jack Kerouac called Burroughs the "greatest satirical writer since Jonathan Swift", a reputation he owes to his "lifelong subversion" of the moral, political and economic systems of modern American society, articulated in often darkly humorous sardonicism. J. G. Ballard considered Burroughs to be "the most important writer to emerge since the Second World War", while Norman Mailer declared him "the only American writer who may be conceivably possessed by genius".
Burroughs had one child, William Seward Burroughs III (1947-1981), with his second wife Joan Vollmer. Vollmer died in 1951 in Mexico City. Burroughs was convicted of manslaughter in Vollmer's death, an event that deeply permeated all of his writings. Burroughs died at his home in Lawrence, Kansas, after suffering a heart attack in 1997.
A primary figure of the Beat Generation and a major postmodernist author, he is considered to be "one of the most politically trenchant, culturally influential, and innovative artists of the 20th century".
His influence is considered to have affected a range of popular culture as well as literature. Burroughs wrote 18 novels and novellas, six collections of short stories and four collections of essays.
Five books have been published of his interviews and correspondences. He also collaborated on projects and recordings with numerous performers and musicians, and made many appearances in films.
He was born to a wealthy family in St. Louis, Missouri, grandson of the inventor and founder of the Burroughs Corporation, William Seward Burroughs I, and nephew of public relations manager Ivy Lee. Burroughs began writing essays and journals in early adolescence. He left home in 1932 to attend Harvard University, studied English, and anthropology as a postgraduate, and later attended medical school in Vienna. After being turned down by the Office of Strategic Services and U.S. Navy in 1942 to serve in World War II, he dropped out and became afflicted with the drug addiction that affected him for the rest of his life, while working a variety of jobs. In 1943 while living in New York City, he befriended Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac, the mutually influential foundation of what became the countercultural movement of the Beat Generation.
Much of Burroughs's work is semi-autobiographical, primarily drawn from his experiences as a heroin addict, as he lived throughout Mexico City, London, Paris, Berlin, the South American Amazon and Tangier in Morocco. Finding success with his confessional first novel, Junkie (1953), Burroughs is perhaps best known for his third novel Naked Lunch (1959), a controversy-fraught work that underwent a court case under the U.S. sodomy laws. With Brion Gysin, he also popularized the literary cut-up technique in works such as The Nova Trilogy (1961–64). In 1983, Burroughs was elected to the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters, and in 1984 was awarded the Ordre des Arts et des Lettres by France. Jack Kerouac called Burroughs the "greatest satirical writer since Jonathan Swift", a reputation he owes to his "lifelong subversion" of the moral, political and economic systems of modern American society, articulated in often darkly humorous sardonicism. J. G. Ballard considered Burroughs to be "the most important writer to emerge since the Second World War", while Norman Mailer declared him "the only American writer who may be conceivably possessed by genius".
Burroughs had one child, William Seward Burroughs III (1947-1981), with his second wife Joan Vollmer. Vollmer died in 1951 in Mexico City. Burroughs was convicted of manslaughter in Vollmer's death, an event that deeply permeated all of his writings. Burroughs died at his home in Lawrence, Kansas, after suffering a heart attack in 1997.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 42 reviews
July 22, 2014
Burroughs bows out in style with a very humanistic touch..
Burroughs' final journals are a rich, elegant, humorous and singular collage of a great mind at work..the journals are a highly original amalgam of famous quotes (the "No glot, clom Fliday" quote is finally explained for example), fleeting memories of his boyhood at Los Alamos or times in Tangier and Paris (with Brion Gysin), London, Mexico, homages to Allen Ginsberg who had just passed away and current preoccupations such as his cats or the sorry and oppressive conditions of the police state in the US.
I was surprised to learn that Burroughs believed in God. I really liked his comment that people who don' believe in ESP haven't kept their eyes open. I couldn't agree with him more - the older I get the clearer it becomes that to some extent it does exist. It was wonderful to read about WSB finding saving grace through his love of his cats and incidentally I read this book just after our beloved 25 year old cat Miichan passed away. Just like Burroughs' cat Fletch, Miichan seemed fine but then was suddenly...gone. Her presence still fills the house but the empty spaces, like Burroughs describes, where she used to be make me so sad whenever I see them and re-remember that she has gone. Therefore as you can imagine, I connected with this book on a very deep and emotional level. Knowing and reading about someone who went through a similar experience helped us somehow with the pain and sorrow you are left with when a pet dies.
Burroughs has reinterpreted the whole journals genre here. Even right at the end of his life he was still pushing boundaries in his relentless and brave pursuit of being true to himself and his art. WSB is sorely missed. I highly recommend this for anyone interested in WSB, the beats or creative people in general.
Burroughs' final journals are a rich, elegant, humorous and singular collage of a great mind at work..the journals are a highly original amalgam of famous quotes (the "No glot, clom Fliday" quote is finally explained for example), fleeting memories of his boyhood at Los Alamos or times in Tangier and Paris (with Brion Gysin), London, Mexico, homages to Allen Ginsberg who had just passed away and current preoccupations such as his cats or the sorry and oppressive conditions of the police state in the US.
I was surprised to learn that Burroughs believed in God. I really liked his comment that people who don' believe in ESP haven't kept their eyes open. I couldn't agree with him more - the older I get the clearer it becomes that to some extent it does exist. It was wonderful to read about WSB finding saving grace through his love of his cats and incidentally I read this book just after our beloved 25 year old cat Miichan passed away. Just like Burroughs' cat Fletch, Miichan seemed fine but then was suddenly...gone. Her presence still fills the house but the empty spaces, like Burroughs describes, where she used to be make me so sad whenever I see them and re-remember that she has gone. Therefore as you can imagine, I connected with this book on a very deep and emotional level. Knowing and reading about someone who went through a similar experience helped us somehow with the pain and sorrow you are left with when a pet dies.
Burroughs has reinterpreted the whole journals genre here. Even right at the end of his life he was still pushing boundaries in his relentless and brave pursuit of being true to himself and his art. WSB is sorely missed. I highly recommend this for anyone interested in WSB, the beats or creative people in general.
December 17, 2023
Wasn't sure how much I would like this. Basically, it's WSB's diary for the last several months of his life, lightly edited. In fact, if you're a fan, it offers a remarkable glimpse inside the head of a major writer, on the brink of death.
Oh yes, and cats. Always the cats.
The cats are a guide, and a muse. Cats are the path.
Oh yes, and cats. Always the cats.
The cats are a guide, and a muse. Cats are the path.
December 15, 2025
In despair he threw himself somewhere, and was saved by his love for cats. No priest or psychiatrist could do it. It was Brion Gysin, and: “meow meow meow.”
Qualms!
⛔️Child rapist or at least child rapist championer… comparing the war on drugs to a war on child molesting??? Asking, in full delusional sympathy, how else will the poor preteens of the world make their money now??
⛔️Antisemitic
⛔️Really likes Joseph Conrad
⛔️Furiously whispering to myself he is not racist or sexist: he just hates everyone equally.
So-called compartmentalisers hate to see a real Burroughs-enjoyer coming.
Even if he was not all these things personally, (he was), to explode writing from behind enemy lines the way he did, and through his chosen methods, comes at a deep epistemological liability to himself. Overexposing this dark rotten underbelly of Language, gripped in a trillion little centipede legs writhing. It is going to be lit up and shone centre-stage, before succumbing to blackened perish in a conflagration of heat caused by pressure. To break Word and make it both hilarious and beautiful, knowing the worst of your guts will be splayed in the process? His hands did the work and burn in the flames with the rest.
These are the unfortunate reasons I continue telling everyone he is my biological father. No one likes their dad, and yet, they still made you.
Of course it is the simplest thing in the world to be a good person in the multiple ways that William Burroughs wasn’t, and they have nothing to do with getting on suboxone. And these flames are only the flames of posterity, because as we all know, being evil provides people with real material power in this shitty world.
2 Burroughs in a row to enter, so fully, into the Christmas spirit. ‘Centipedes were created in the Holocaust ovens…. Hey remember that time I ODed on coke?… My favourite cat no longer purrs back…’ Bathos + Tenderness + Falseness + Truth.
Qualms!
⛔️Child rapist or at least child rapist championer… comparing the war on drugs to a war on child molesting??? Asking, in full delusional sympathy, how else will the poor preteens of the world make their money now??
⛔️Antisemitic
⛔️Really likes Joseph Conrad
⛔️Furiously whispering to myself he is not racist or sexist: he just hates everyone equally.
So-called compartmentalisers hate to see a real Burroughs-enjoyer coming.
Even if he was not all these things personally, (he was), to explode writing from behind enemy lines the way he did, and through his chosen methods, comes at a deep epistemological liability to himself. Overexposing this dark rotten underbelly of Language, gripped in a trillion little centipede legs writhing. It is going to be lit up and shone centre-stage, before succumbing to blackened perish in a conflagration of heat caused by pressure. To break Word and make it both hilarious and beautiful, knowing the worst of your guts will be splayed in the process? His hands did the work and burn in the flames with the rest.
These are the unfortunate reasons I continue telling everyone he is my biological father. No one likes their dad, and yet, they still made you.
Of course it is the simplest thing in the world to be a good person in the multiple ways that William Burroughs wasn’t, and they have nothing to do with getting on suboxone. And these flames are only the flames of posterity, because as we all know, being evil provides people with real material power in this shitty world.
2 Burroughs in a row to enter, so fully, into the Christmas spirit. ‘Centipedes were created in the Holocaust ovens…. Hey remember that time I ODed on coke?… My favourite cat no longer purrs back…’ Bathos + Tenderness + Falseness + Truth.
November 13, 2019
The most poignant parts of this book were the ones referring to his pet cats. Awww did he love his feline friends!!
Otherwise I found the book a bit too disjointed and rambling, even for Burroughs. It felt as though the editors just gathered up as many pieces of scrap paper from Burrough's place after he died and then just printed what was on them to "get the punters in". Felt marginally exploitative.
Otherwise I found the book a bit too disjointed and rambling, even for Burroughs. It felt as though the editors just gathered up as many pieces of scrap paper from Burrough's place after he died and then just printed what was on them to "get the punters in". Felt marginally exploitative.
February 19, 2008
This guy loved his kittys like nothing else. Nice to see a junky in the light of day. Living a simple life and reflecting on a wild past. Very soft and at times sad. At his age you are mostly saying goodbye to people and places. I thought it was very cute.
December 5, 2025
İnsan Kötü
Son Sözler beat edebiyatı öncülerinden William S. Burroughs'ın (WSB) dünyadaki son dokuz ayında her an yanında bulundurduğu not defterine yaşadıklarını, gördüklerini, okuduklarını, duyduklarını, bildiklerini hemen oracıkta ayaküstü yorumladığı izlenimini veren beat jargonunda yazılmış bir günce. Bir yazarın basılmasın asla istemeyeceği türden özel, kendine yazdığı notlar! Amerika dışındaki okurların yabancı kalacağı kişi ve durumları yorumlamış; birilerinden bahsediyor ama kim bunlar -evet bir tanesi romanlarını bitiremediğim Paul Bowles- ve neyi mesele ediyor arkadaş. Sanırım 90'lı yılların sonlarına doğru Bush yönetimindeki ABD Devlet'i uyuşturucuya savaş açıyor, yasak koyuyor ve WSB de yılların bağımlısı olarak uyuşturucu bir yaşam tarzı sürüyor, haliyle küplere biniyor ve bu mesele üzerinden insan kalitesini sorguluyor, daha doğrusu esip gürlüyor. Uyuşturucu konusu kitabın da gündemi gibi duruyor, çünkü dönüp dolaşıp bu konu 'küfürler' eşliğinde işleniyor. Uyuşturucunun bir zararı yok, hatta tıbben faydası var kanıtlanmış diyor; haklı ya da değil ama sürekli yineleyip durduğum gibi, bu mesele genel okuru ilgilendirmiyor-bizim şu meşhur asgari ücret rezaletini odağıma alsam da beat jargonu yapsam, yani aralara küfürleri döşeyip verip veriştirsem ilgilendirir mi İngilizi, İtalyanı, Arnavutu?- Kedilere düşkünlüğünü anlatıyor. Okuduğu kitaplardan da bahsediyor; uzayda geçen distopya ve yeryüzünde geçen fantazi kitapları okuyor çoğunlukla ve yorum yapıyor ama tabii Türkçede mi bu böyle; cümleler anlamsız, paragraflar bağlantısız. WSB sonuçta tepkisel yazıyor. Kitaptan damıttığım ana fikir: İnsanlar kötü. Okuru metne davet etmeyen Son Sözler'i okumam mümkün değildi. Kitabı bırakacağım sayfayı tespit etmeye çalışıyordum ki yirmili sayfalarda 'anlayabildiğim' bir paragrafa rastlayınca gurbette kardeşimi görmüş gibi heyecanlandım ve kitapta alıntı kovalamaya karar verdim. Bu motivasyonla kitabı sürdüm, bulduğum alıntıları güncellemede değerlendirdim. İyi de oldu; "kavrayışlı olanların halkı yoktur" alıntısına bayıldım bayıldım bayıldım...
Son Sözler, koleksiyoner beatseverlere göz kırpan bir kitap.
Son Sözler beat edebiyatı öncülerinden William S. Burroughs'ın (WSB) dünyadaki son dokuz ayında her an yanında bulundurduğu not defterine yaşadıklarını, gördüklerini, okuduklarını, duyduklarını, bildiklerini hemen oracıkta ayaküstü yorumladığı izlenimini veren beat jargonunda yazılmış bir günce. Bir yazarın basılmasın asla istemeyeceği türden özel, kendine yazdığı notlar! Amerika dışındaki okurların yabancı kalacağı kişi ve durumları yorumlamış; birilerinden bahsediyor ama kim bunlar -evet bir tanesi romanlarını bitiremediğim Paul Bowles- ve neyi mesele ediyor arkadaş. Sanırım 90'lı yılların sonlarına doğru Bush yönetimindeki ABD Devlet'i uyuşturucuya savaş açıyor, yasak koyuyor ve WSB de yılların bağımlısı olarak uyuşturucu bir yaşam tarzı sürüyor, haliyle küplere biniyor ve bu mesele üzerinden insan kalitesini sorguluyor, daha doğrusu esip gürlüyor. Uyuşturucu konusu kitabın da gündemi gibi duruyor, çünkü dönüp dolaşıp bu konu 'küfürler' eşliğinde işleniyor. Uyuşturucunun bir zararı yok, hatta tıbben faydası var kanıtlanmış diyor; haklı ya da değil ama sürekli yineleyip durduğum gibi, bu mesele genel okuru ilgilendirmiyor-bizim şu meşhur asgari ücret rezaletini odağıma alsam da beat jargonu yapsam, yani aralara küfürleri döşeyip verip veriştirsem ilgilendirir mi İngilizi, İtalyanı, Arnavutu?- Kedilere düşkünlüğünü anlatıyor. Okuduğu kitaplardan da bahsediyor; uzayda geçen distopya ve yeryüzünde geçen fantazi kitapları okuyor çoğunlukla ve yorum yapıyor ama tabii Türkçede mi bu böyle; cümleler anlamsız, paragraflar bağlantısız. WSB sonuçta tepkisel yazıyor. Kitaptan damıttığım ana fikir: İnsanlar kötü. Okuru metne davet etmeyen Son Sözler'i okumam mümkün değildi. Kitabı bırakacağım sayfayı tespit etmeye çalışıyordum ki yirmili sayfalarda 'anlayabildiğim' bir paragrafa rastlayınca gurbette kardeşimi görmüş gibi heyecanlandım ve kitapta alıntı kovalamaya karar verdim. Bu motivasyonla kitabı sürdüm, bulduğum alıntıları güncellemede değerlendirdim. İyi de oldu; "kavrayışlı olanların halkı yoktur" alıntısına bayıldım bayıldım bayıldım...
Son Sözler, koleksiyoner beatseverlere göz kırpan bir kitap.
July 4, 2022
In the last nine months of his life, Beat novelist William S. Burroughs began keeping a journal. In it, he looks back at his career as a writer, comments on the books he is reading (e.g. Under Western Eyes, The Last Don, Invasion, The Night Manager) and writes down his observations with regard to a number of subjects including art, weapons, the psychoanalytic industry and the war on drugs.
Unlike many published journals by other writers, The Last Words of William S. Burroughs does not appear to have been edited to minimize redundancy. There is a lot of repetition here, for instance of a passage in which two T-men interrogate a bootlegger, and which appears to be part of a work of fiction Burroughs planned to write; each time the passage appears, there are small changes, suggesting that Burroughs is revising it each time he writes it. In another instance of repetition, Burroughs works on the plot for a film he wants to write about an invasion by extra-terrestrials. Other repetitions include lines from poems, quoted phrases and comments on things Burroughs is thinking about.
I think the editors were correct to leave Burroughs’s repetitions in: while it may not be necessary for the reader to read Burroughs’s quoting Timothy Leary’s last words multiple times, it is useful to see that Burroughs thought the words important enough to write down multiple times in his journal; from these repetitions (and from others, of lines from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s “Ulysses" and from Matthew Arnold’s “Dover Beach,” for instance, and of Allen Ginsberg’s last words) one gets the sense of a man nearing the end of his life whose mind keeps returning to the same things.
This journal reflects Burroughs at his most private and vulnerable. A lover of cats, he lost two during the time he wrote this journal, and one gets the sense from his comments on how deeply these events in particular affected him.
Acquired Jun 28, 2010
Powell's City of Books, Portland, OR
Unlike many published journals by other writers, The Last Words of William S. Burroughs does not appear to have been edited to minimize redundancy. There is a lot of repetition here, for instance of a passage in which two T-men interrogate a bootlegger, and which appears to be part of a work of fiction Burroughs planned to write; each time the passage appears, there are small changes, suggesting that Burroughs is revising it each time he writes it. In another instance of repetition, Burroughs works on the plot for a film he wants to write about an invasion by extra-terrestrials. Other repetitions include lines from poems, quoted phrases and comments on things Burroughs is thinking about.
I think the editors were correct to leave Burroughs’s repetitions in: while it may not be necessary for the reader to read Burroughs’s quoting Timothy Leary’s last words multiple times, it is useful to see that Burroughs thought the words important enough to write down multiple times in his journal; from these repetitions (and from others, of lines from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s “Ulysses" and from Matthew Arnold’s “Dover Beach,” for instance, and of Allen Ginsberg’s last words) one gets the sense of a man nearing the end of his life whose mind keeps returning to the same things.
This journal reflects Burroughs at his most private and vulnerable. A lover of cats, he lost two during the time he wrote this journal, and one gets the sense from his comments on how deeply these events in particular affected him.
Acquired Jun 28, 2010
Powell's City of Books, Portland, OR
September 10, 2018
“Love? What is it? Most natural painkiller what there is.” -W.S.B
These were the last words in his diary. He meant love that he felt for his cats, love that could from time to time ease the fact of never ending, perpetual conflict and struggle that is life - existence without no permanent satori or solution - love as painkiller numbs the pain but wears off; thus, the analogy for a medicine.
I have always liked the quote but the context pondered me - I was not disappointed.
About the book:
It is a diary, so I read it in the toilet in 4 months or so (location of the read is not meant to belittle the author in any way).
I found it interesting to see what W.S.B was like to his diary's white to his pen's black. His last written words; they had a clear voice. I got the image that W.S.B was a man to the end without disillusion of the state of reality or the capabilities of human understanding.
I salute.
These were the last words in his diary. He meant love that he felt for his cats, love that could from time to time ease the fact of never ending, perpetual conflict and struggle that is life - existence without no permanent satori or solution - love as painkiller numbs the pain but wears off; thus, the analogy for a medicine.
I have always liked the quote but the context pondered me - I was not disappointed.
About the book:
It is a diary, so I read it in the toilet in 4 months or so (location of the read is not meant to belittle the author in any way).
I found it interesting to see what W.S.B was like to his diary's white to his pen's black. His last written words; they had a clear voice. I got the image that W.S.B was a man to the end without disillusion of the state of reality or the capabilities of human understanding.
I salute.
March 10, 2020
currently re-reading. i'm working on a book called an improviser's notebook, and i think i'm in the final stretch, just looking for a bit of reference to remind myself the kinds of things my favorite writers think about in the journal format.
i don't love this work, and ok, it was published after wsb's death, and maybe he would not have wanted them published. from the late writings that are short and journal-ish in nature (THE CAT INSIDE, and the book of dreams), this is maybe the weakest in terms of a work of literature. as a autobiographical slice of burroughs, it has far more value, but isn't actually as informative as LITERARY OUTLAW or the other biographies ...
so .....
i don't love this work, and ok, it was published after wsb's death, and maybe he would not have wanted them published. from the late writings that are short and journal-ish in nature (THE CAT INSIDE, and the book of dreams), this is maybe the weakest in terms of a work of literature. as a autobiographical slice of burroughs, it has far more value, but isn't actually as informative as LITERARY OUTLAW or the other biographies ...
so .....
September 24, 2021
William B. ended his adult life pretty much the way he entered: shooting dope and being attended to by a handsome young man. And, oh, yes, writing either a journal framed like one of his novels or vice versa. LAST WORDS contains obituaries of all his Beat friends (he outlived them all except for Corso), musings on a post-Communist world that remained a global police state, flashbacks to the Depression, and his life-long obsession with conspiracy theories. "Bull" Lee always provokes, right to the minute he left for another plane of existence.
September 12, 2018
Yes, it is good. Burroughs is my favorite writer, for better or worse, because he has so much to teach. There are limits, to be sure, but I keep finding thoughts on interest in his work. For example, in this book, I was surprised to learn that he detested abortion and believed in God (well, I sort of knew the latter). He eloquently fuses fiction, dreams, straight-journaling, cut-up by way of simply repeating himself, all while approaching his last words (July 30, 1997). His last entry is so amazing for a career drug addict, homosexual, and murderer. One would not expect, especially anyone in the straight crowd. In yer face! Evidently he had a brush with day a few days before the end and ripped out what was to be his last words at the point. He was really trying for a quiet but grandiose finish. I respect that. A noble death, if there is such a thing.
This book wraps up a life of letters that I continue to value and honor.
This book wraps up a life of letters that I continue to value and honor.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 14, 2023
Burroughs was a crass and miserable old man, but a poet.
November 21, 2024
I highly recommend reading Ted Morgan's "Literary Outlaw," the first authorized biography of WMB before reading this. Reminded me of a lot of Burrough's other published works.
September 21, 2010
отличное лакомство для литературного вуайериста вроде меня. Б. близок к смерти и кружит над ней и вокруг нее - сам себе стервятник, сам себе гиена. цикличность, которая сродни слепоте - тычешься, тычешься, а вдруг и находишь лакомый мамин сосочек, тут и доволен уже.
константы: наркотики и коты; сладкоголосые грабители и многоножки (вообще разные насекомые и только в качестве кошмара); невозможность писать (душевная - Хэмингуэй с его "it doesn't come any more" и физическая - Б. и артрит) и отважное желание знать только то, что нужно для дела, и делать только то, что умеешь.
и про любовь, конечно: Love? What is It?
Most natural painkiller what there is.
LOVE.
константы: наркотики и коты; сладкоголосые грабители и многоножки (вообще разные насекомые и только в качестве кошмара); невозможность писать (душевная - Хэмингуэй с его "it doesn't come any more" и физическая - Б. и артрит) и отважное желание знать только то, что нужно для дела, и делать только то, что умеешь.
и про любовь, конечно: Love? What is It?
Most natural painkiller what there is.
LOVE.
April 25, 2010
A book best read after learning all that one can learn about William S. Burroughs, only to realize that even the most notorious can still offer you an unique view into the last days of his life. In particular, his heartache involving Allen Ginsberg's is very touching, as well as his love for his numerous cats.
September 12, 2012
So the creepy old misogynist did have a heart!? It was a privilege to read the words of a 20th century elder so close to their natural death ...& for it to be Burroughs?! Digging The Greys & thoughts on dissent right 'til the end. Such tender words on the spaces left behind by one's pets after death. Much of it no idea but for momentary flashes of audacity that moved me.
February 3, 2009
I bought this bk in a terrible Virgin Megaplace in Times Square in '06. I was going on a long plane flight and needed a bk, and this was as good as I could find in that place.
It turned out to be a great purchase, by turns funny, wise, and inspiring. Thanks always to old Bull Lee.
It turned out to be a great purchase, by turns funny, wise, and inspiring. Thanks always to old Bull Lee.
February 28, 2008
very enlightening for burroughs. He could be so simple and normal if he wanted.
August 29, 2010
"Love. What is it? Most powerful painkiller what there is. LOVE."
April 19, 2025
William S. Burroughsin Viimeiset sanat -päiväkirjamerkinnät hänen viimeisen elinvuotensa aikana oli varsinainen lukunautinto. Postuumisti toimitetut päiväkirjamerkinnät sijoittuvat ajanjaksoon 14.11.1996–30.7.1997, ja Elina Koskelinin suomennos on oivallinen. Tämäkin teos on kustannusyhtiö Sammakon arvokasta kulttuurityötä kääntää jostain syystä valtavirran katveeseen jääneitä klassikkokirjailijoiden teoksia.
Burroughs tunnetaan ennen kaikkea hänen läpimurtoteoksestaan Alaston lounas vuodelta 1959, ja muutoinkin hänen roolinsa niin sanotun beat-sukupolven edustajana ja yhtenä keulakuvista (Allen Ginsbergin ja Jack Kerouacin lisäksi) tulee kirjaa lukiessa hyvin esille. Ginsberg menehtyi vuoden 1997 aikana, ja monessa fragmentissaan Burroughs palaa tähän ystäväänsä ja heidän yhteisiin kokemuksiinsa.
Erityisesti pidin kirjailijan periksiantamattomasta suhtautumisesta ja uskollisuudesta omille arvoilleen ja ihanteilleen. Niitä käsitellään fragmentinomaisesti ja skarpisti ihan kirjan loppuun saakka, ja Burroughs menehtyi muutama päivää viimeisen merkintänsä jälkeen. Hänen teoksilleen on myös ominaista niin sanottu cut up -tekniikka, joka on lyyristä tajunnanvirtaa ja assosiaatioita proosateoksessa, miksei tässä omaelämäkerrallisessa välähdyksiin perustuvassa itsetilityksessä tai retrospektiivisessä pohdinnassa, mikä on vaikuttanut mihinkin oman elämän aikana.
Lukemisessa helpottaa huomattavasti, jos kirjallisuuden, politiikan ja kulttuurihistorian tuntemuksessa on aukkoja, tarkistella ensin kirjan lopusta selityksiä kuka kukin on, jotta selviää, miksi FBI:n huumevastaista pomoa Hooveria pilkataan toistuvasti, miksi tuodaan omia vankilakokemuksia, miksi ja miten pohditaan suhtautumista ylipäätään kirjallisuuteen ja taiteen olemukseen ja ennen kaikkea kirjailijalle niin rakkaiden kissojen elämiä ja kuolemia.
Burroughsilla on myös jäljittelemätön tyyli, mistä pidin kovasti, ja se tarkoittaa itseironiaa ja moniin yhteiskunnallisiin instituutioihin liittyvää sarkasmia. Toisaalta hän sepittää samanlaisia lyhyttarinoita kuin jossain Punaisen yön kaupungeissa, kun virkavaltavastaisia fantasioita kuljetellaan rinnakkainen hänen kavereidensa kanssa. Lakoninen tyyli yhdistettynä sisäänpäin kääntyneeseen huumoriin toimii lyömättömästi, kun esimerkiksi tekijä kutsuu kivaksi päiväksi kuvaussessiota Last night on earth-musiikkivideossa MeToo-bändin kanssa, joka oli itse asiassa irkkubändi U2.
Burroughs kutsuukin itseään muistelmissaan ”vilpittömän epäluotettavaksi”, ja monen monissa kohdin hän kannustaa lukijoitaan vahvistamaan ”sisäistä linnaketta” vihollisiamme vastaan, sillä emmehän muuten olisi täällä. Muutoinkin hän suomii toistuvasti ”ääliöenemmistön idiotismia”, kun moni on varmaan huomannut itsekin, että niin sanotun valtavirran ihmiset käyvät koko ajan typerämmiksi.
Valtavirtaan nimenomaan Burroughs ei koskaan halunnut kuuluakaan, ja useaan otteeseen hän ylistää LSD:n vahvaa puolestapuhujaa professori Timothy Learyä, joka puolestaan menehtyi vähän ennen tämän kirjan ensimmäistä päiväkirjamerkintää. Päivääkään Burroughs ei kerro katuneensa, että on ollut heroiinikoukussa yli viisikymmentä vuotta, vaikka viimeiset vuodet kuluivatkin ystäviä kestitessä, kirjoja lukiessa ja niitä tässäkin teoksessa referoidessa, kissoja rapsuttaessa ja metadonia piikittäessä. Rakkaita harrastuksia olivat myös puukkojen heittely ja tietysti ammuskelu, sillä onhan se perin maskuliininen harrastus… eikä kirjailija vaikuttanut tämänkään kirjan tekstien perusteella ikälopulta vaan ikuiselta kapinallisesta, tai niin kuin hän itse kutsui itseään 83-vuotiaaksi nuoreksi…
Niille, jotka eivät jostain syystä oikein pääse jyvälle, mitä Burroughs yrittää juuri sinulle kertoa, voisi antaa vinkiksi, että niiltä ehkä puuttuu maaginen ymmärrys, jollaista ”vihollisilla” ei ole, sillä eihän niillä ole kuin ”silmälaputettuja näkökantoja”…
Burroughs tunnetaan ennen kaikkea hänen läpimurtoteoksestaan Alaston lounas vuodelta 1959, ja muutoinkin hänen roolinsa niin sanotun beat-sukupolven edustajana ja yhtenä keulakuvista (Allen Ginsbergin ja Jack Kerouacin lisäksi) tulee kirjaa lukiessa hyvin esille. Ginsberg menehtyi vuoden 1997 aikana, ja monessa fragmentissaan Burroughs palaa tähän ystäväänsä ja heidän yhteisiin kokemuksiinsa.
Erityisesti pidin kirjailijan periksiantamattomasta suhtautumisesta ja uskollisuudesta omille arvoilleen ja ihanteilleen. Niitä käsitellään fragmentinomaisesti ja skarpisti ihan kirjan loppuun saakka, ja Burroughs menehtyi muutama päivää viimeisen merkintänsä jälkeen. Hänen teoksilleen on myös ominaista niin sanottu cut up -tekniikka, joka on lyyristä tajunnanvirtaa ja assosiaatioita proosateoksessa, miksei tässä omaelämäkerrallisessa välähdyksiin perustuvassa itsetilityksessä tai retrospektiivisessä pohdinnassa, mikä on vaikuttanut mihinkin oman elämän aikana.
Lukemisessa helpottaa huomattavasti, jos kirjallisuuden, politiikan ja kulttuurihistorian tuntemuksessa on aukkoja, tarkistella ensin kirjan lopusta selityksiä kuka kukin on, jotta selviää, miksi FBI:n huumevastaista pomoa Hooveria pilkataan toistuvasti, miksi tuodaan omia vankilakokemuksia, miksi ja miten pohditaan suhtautumista ylipäätään kirjallisuuteen ja taiteen olemukseen ja ennen kaikkea kirjailijalle niin rakkaiden kissojen elämiä ja kuolemia.
Burroughsilla on myös jäljittelemätön tyyli, mistä pidin kovasti, ja se tarkoittaa itseironiaa ja moniin yhteiskunnallisiin instituutioihin liittyvää sarkasmia. Toisaalta hän sepittää samanlaisia lyhyttarinoita kuin jossain Punaisen yön kaupungeissa, kun virkavaltavastaisia fantasioita kuljetellaan rinnakkainen hänen kavereidensa kanssa. Lakoninen tyyli yhdistettynä sisäänpäin kääntyneeseen huumoriin toimii lyömättömästi, kun esimerkiksi tekijä kutsuu kivaksi päiväksi kuvaussessiota Last night on earth-musiikkivideossa MeToo-bändin kanssa, joka oli itse asiassa irkkubändi U2.
Burroughs kutsuukin itseään muistelmissaan ”vilpittömän epäluotettavaksi”, ja monen monissa kohdin hän kannustaa lukijoitaan vahvistamaan ”sisäistä linnaketta” vihollisiamme vastaan, sillä emmehän muuten olisi täällä. Muutoinkin hän suomii toistuvasti ”ääliöenemmistön idiotismia”, kun moni on varmaan huomannut itsekin, että niin sanotun valtavirran ihmiset käyvät koko ajan typerämmiksi.
Valtavirtaan nimenomaan Burroughs ei koskaan halunnut kuuluakaan, ja useaan otteeseen hän ylistää LSD:n vahvaa puolestapuhujaa professori Timothy Learyä, joka puolestaan menehtyi vähän ennen tämän kirjan ensimmäistä päiväkirjamerkintää. Päivääkään Burroughs ei kerro katuneensa, että on ollut heroiinikoukussa yli viisikymmentä vuotta, vaikka viimeiset vuodet kuluivatkin ystäviä kestitessä, kirjoja lukiessa ja niitä tässäkin teoksessa referoidessa, kissoja rapsuttaessa ja metadonia piikittäessä. Rakkaita harrastuksia olivat myös puukkojen heittely ja tietysti ammuskelu, sillä onhan se perin maskuliininen harrastus… eikä kirjailija vaikuttanut tämänkään kirjan tekstien perusteella ikälopulta vaan ikuiselta kapinallisesta, tai niin kuin hän itse kutsui itseään 83-vuotiaaksi nuoreksi…
Niille, jotka eivät jostain syystä oikein pääse jyvälle, mitä Burroughs yrittää juuri sinulle kertoa, voisi antaa vinkiksi, että niiltä ehkä puuttuu maaginen ymmärrys, jollaista ”vihollisilla” ei ole, sillä eihän niillä ole kuin ”silmälaputettuja näkökantoja”…
September 15, 2021
i’ve been an avid burroughs fan for a wee while now, and reading this only made me love and respect the man and his works more. it’s poignant, it’s a perspective from him that was seldom seen in his works, and i adored the intimacy from a man who was commonly seen as standoffish and reserved in his emotions. his undying love for his feline friends makes me melt, as does reading through his process of coming to terms with receiving and giving love to others. the juxtaposition between burroughs’ affinity for weaponry and his softer daily routines of breakfast and tea makes this publication feel very human, if not a tad exploitive.
a junkie in the last months of his life, rambling and repeating things to himself— perhaps a bit too much, even for his style, but then again, this is a journal pieced together, and the man was dying at the time. that being said, his firm beliefs and reiteration of different hatreds and loves feels purposeful as if setting reminders to himself (and therefore the reader). at points some of the writing and prose is hard to grasp, but i think it adds to the charm.
overall, i would say that these journals were (oddly enough) inspiring to me. perhaps us hardened junkies have a chance to lay lower, to take in a few strays and care so deeply for them, to eventually take steps towards caring for ourselves. many moments made me smile, many made me incredibly sad. but i felt hope, which was something i wasn’t expecting going into the read— something i was pleasantly touched and surprised by.
a junkie in the last months of his life, rambling and repeating things to himself— perhaps a bit too much, even for his style, but then again, this is a journal pieced together, and the man was dying at the time. that being said, his firm beliefs and reiteration of different hatreds and loves feels purposeful as if setting reminders to himself (and therefore the reader). at points some of the writing and prose is hard to grasp, but i think it adds to the charm.
overall, i would say that these journals were (oddly enough) inspiring to me. perhaps us hardened junkies have a chance to lay lower, to take in a few strays and care so deeply for them, to eventually take steps towards caring for ourselves. many moments made me smile, many made me incredibly sad. but i felt hope, which was something i wasn’t expecting going into the read— something i was pleasantly touched and surprised by.
October 20, 2025
No es que sea un mal libro. Hay que ponerlo en su contexto. Son los últimos días de vida de Burroughs y por lo tanto es él en su estado más puro. Ningún párrafo tiene que ver nada con el que sigue o con el que está antes, son solo reflexiones sobre lo que le sucede y lo que lee. Es un libro solo para fanáticos (que no es mi caso) de este gran escritor que junto a otros marcó una de las generaciones más importantes de la literatura estadounidense.
Mención aparte a la muerte de Allen Ginsberg que es desgarradora sobre todo si conoces su relación de amistad.
Mención aparte a la muerte de Allen Ginsberg que es desgarradora sobre todo si conoces su relación de amistad.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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August 13, 2025definitely chose the strangest and most intense week of my life to read this but i had to familiarise myself with the centipede thesis...
— "What is an experience if it is not shared? Did it even happen? It takes another person to form an [...] experience. As a screen. That is why God had to create.
Otherwise?
A centipede can be seen as a test upon which Love, like St. Francis used to make, would shatter.
There must be a 'place of failure'. What life can survive an atomic blast?"
— "What is an experience if it is not shared? Did it even happen? It takes another person to form an [...] experience. As a screen. That is why God had to create.
Otherwise?
A centipede can be seen as a test upon which Love, like St. Francis used to make, would shatter.
There must be a 'place of failure'. What life can survive an atomic blast?"
May 13, 2018
His thoughts/ramblings are interesting, poignant, crazy, mundane, rebellious, and he was way ahead of his time. I appreciated his final entry, just 3 days before he passed, professing his immeasurable love for his cats.
July 29, 2018
Impressive how he was so clear-headed, focused, and vicious up to the very end.
December 15, 2019
These journals are a pleasure to read, an intimate portrait of the last days of a legend.
June 22, 2021
Wow amazing! Very impressive! Will definitely give this a go! vinilos decorativos
https://ebrevinil.com/
https://ebrevinil.com/
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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February 21, 2025Love? What is It?
Most natural painkiller what there is.
LOVE.
Most natural painkiller what there is.
LOVE.
June 12, 2014
The diary William S. Burroughs kept during the last eight months of his life (the final entry being the day before his body was found at his home in Lawrence, Kansas, after suffering a heart attack) may not hold huge surprises but it contains many pleasant discoveries. On the one hand it is something like reading one of his novels: the narrative (if it's fair to put such a standard to a personal journal) jumps around conceptually and chronologically and is held together by threads of drug policy, government conspiracy and healthy misanthropy. At the same time, however, Burroughs is revealed as thoughtful, literate and sensitive. He comments upon news of the day and novels he's reading, strays occasionally into his failing health, and lapses into memories and, perhaps, sketches for pieces of fiction. But what might be most surprising and endearing here is his love for his cats and his understated heartbreak when one dies. (There is also passing reference to visiting and doing fundraising for a primate center.) These sections serve to soften the old curmudgeon.
Burroughs seems to have developed a reputation for being little more than the "queer" "junky" his novel titles suggest. His "Last Words" show that, of course, those settings were created by a keen mind possessed of both compassion and cynicism.
Burroughs seems to have developed a reputation for being little more than the "queer" "junky" his novel titles suggest. His "Last Words" show that, of course, those settings were created by a keen mind possessed of both compassion and cynicism.
November 20, 2025
Adam ekmek alması için hizmetçisini markete gönderdi. Hizmetçi korkudan beti benzi atmış bir halde geri döndü ve şöyle dedi:
“Markette Ölüm’ü gördüm, tehditkâr bir hareket yaptı.”
Hizmetçi atını eyerledi, arabasına benzin doldurdu, motosikletine atladı ve apar topar Samarra’ya gitti.
Daha sonra adam markete gitti ve Ölüm’le karşılaştı.
“Neden,” diye sordu, “hizmetçimi tehditkâr bir hareketle korkuttun?”
Ölüm cevap verdi:
“Tehditkâr bir hareket değildi. Onu orada gördüğüme şaşırdığım için yaptığım bir hareketti zira kendisiyle Samarra’da buluşacaktık.”
W.S.Burroughs - Son Sözler ( Last Words )
“Markette Ölüm’ü gördüm, tehditkâr bir hareket yaptı.”
Hizmetçi atını eyerledi, arabasına benzin doldurdu, motosikletine atladı ve apar topar Samarra’ya gitti.
Daha sonra adam markete gitti ve Ölüm’le karşılaştı.
“Neden,” diye sordu, “hizmetçimi tehditkâr bir hareketle korkuttun?”
Ölüm cevap verdi:
“Tehditkâr bir hareket değildi. Onu orada gördüğüme şaşırdığım için yaptığım bir hareketti zira kendisiyle Samarra’da buluşacaktık.”
W.S.Burroughs - Son Sözler ( Last Words )
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