Still reading this one. But without so much hope left of being able to make it over page 10.
I have no doubt that this way of writing was really modern and provocative back in 1959. The fact is that fifty-two years later I am not able to stand what Mr Burroughs is trying to tell (or not to tell) me.
And I feel more at ease having an over-clothed fasting than a naked lunch.
Perhaps it's my problem, after all.