A fascinating read but I have two major problems with it.
How come her second husband who was in the book trade for many years, even telling people on occasion how he was once married to the lady killed by that famous writer William Burroughs, never had any letters to share or even when Burroughs was at his most famous made no effort to tell his story ?
Also: not enough is made of the persistent damage polio can do ... especially back then when treatment was minimal and only symptomatic. A life of dull pain and shy-making hobbling must leave its mark on character, behaviour and metabolism.
I wonder if more will come out about her book dealer second husband in the longer biography – it surely must – but I think you make a good point, Jim, about those health issues. As I read this slim portrait, I felt sure we were dealing with a damaged, lacklustre and rather easily manipulated individual. She was, of course, very young and her earlier condition could not have helped her physical abilities or her social confidence. She does not emerge in this particular portrait as a mover and a shaper, an influential architect, of the Beat pack's ideas.
Vol et a revelation- the mad streets of Manhattan with Angel headed hipsters Beat poets and down on the scene before it was flooded with wanna bes and poseurs who lost the plot a revelation. The Village and the dusty streets of the lower east Side the streets vibrated to a jazz soundtrack.
When Odysseus met the first Cretan, the Cretan told him:
All Cretans are liars. In other words, he was telling the truth, but he was lying!
So when Burroughs says he tried to shoot the whiskey glass off the top of his wife’s head, he was telling the truth, but he was lying! The seeming truth that he was aiming at the glass was a lie. The truth was, he aimed for the temple where the bullet landed.
A fascinating read but I have two major problems with it.
How come her second husband who was in the book trade for many years, even telling people on occasion how he was once married to the lady killed by that famous writer William Burroughs, never had any letters to share or even when Burroughs was at his most famous made no effort to tell his story ?
Also: not enough is made of the persistent damage polio can do ... especially back then when treatment was minimal and only symptomatic. A life of dull pain and shy-making hobbling must leave its mark on character, behaviour and metabolism.
I wonder if more will come out about her book dealer second husband in the longer biography – it surely must – but I think you make a good point, Jim, about those health issues. As I read this slim portrait, I felt sure we were dealing with a damaged, lacklustre and rather easily manipulated individual. She was, of course, very young and her earlier condition could not have helped her physical abilities or her social confidence. She does not emerge in this particular portrait as a mover and a shaper, an influential architect, of the Beat pack's ideas.
Vol et a revelation- the mad streets of Manhattan with Angel headed hipsters Beat poets and down on the scene before it was flooded with wanna bes and poseurs who lost the plot a revelation. The Village and the dusty streets of the lower east Side the streets vibrated to a jazz soundtrack.
Amongst all the lost on those roads, Joan was the most sad and tragic of all the Muses.
I think I do agree, Paul.
Harry Tsvi Strauch writes further:
'I was a cocaine addict for 30 years.
I lied to myself.
I lied to my wife.
I lied to my children.
I lied to my friends.
I lied to my doctors.
All addicts are liars.
Let us remember Zeno’s paradox:
When Odysseus met the first Cretan, the Cretan told him:
All Cretans are liars. In other words, he was telling the truth, but he was lying!
So when Burroughs says he tried to shoot the whiskey glass off the top of his wife’s head, he was telling the truth, but he was lying! The seeming truth that he was aiming at the glass was a lie. The truth was, he aimed for the temple where the bullet landed.
Best,
Harry'
Harry Tsvi Strauch writes:
'I think it’s time to quit idolizing Burroughs – he murdered his wife and was probably jealous of the fact she was a better poet than he was.
From the magical mystical vortex - aka The Haight Ashbury'