"Junkie Literature": From Someone That is Just Now Reading

 OK. Preface; I am relatively new to reading "literature" as I should call it. I have been admittedly indolent to the idea of things that don't seem exciting on first exposure, as I have liked to make up some prophecy regarding it. It is obnoxious, but I am young, and I am learning! And basically, I am glad to have learned that not everything I read has to educate me, as I have always thought of fiction as a "waste of time", for whatever self-absorbed idea I developed. It isn't, though, obviously, as there is always so much to learn from everything, and that is what keeps me going! Me not reading for that reason has been a lesson within itself, and it's exciting to not think with such occhiolism- hey, cool word, right?

I would also like to make it clear I am not entirely educated on the history of literature movements and whatnot, but I'll try my best. This isn't a historical/research based post, but rather an appreciation for something I am new too. My goal is honestly to strike up discussion, recommend things, and perhaps be recommended things back. It's just fun to write about media I consume, it helps me gain understanding, in a way.

"Junkie literature" is something I have been exposed to via my partner, who reads a whoooole lot more than I ever could, and really, he is to thank for me even trying to. Admittedly, because I felt significantly less intelligent, being a VERY inconsistent student, and not really educating myself period. That aside, my mom also has had a really awesome book selection around, and those two have found a common place in the weirdo-books they enjoy. It's really awesome. So, to pay homage to my loved ones, I picked up reading around 2023; taking a whole year to finish Yukio Mishima's "Confessions of a mask". In my defense, I had a lot going on and constantly forgot about it. The cover always intrigued me when I would see it in my mom's books, so I figured it was a good start. So that is where we began!

When my mom had moved last year, I took some books that looked cool, once again, out of covetousness for my partner. I'm not sure what drew me to pick one up, I believe it was him and his friend talking about books one time, and I really admired the bond they had over the hobby, and the author Ryu Murakami was mentioned. I had remembered I had a book by him, from my mom of course, so when I got home my journey began... *EDIT* I actually think I began reading it when the notorious tire debacle occurred late last year, and I needed things to do to distract myself from the all-consuming horrors. Still, my point remains. 

"Almost Transparent Blue" was my pick of choice, it didn't look too long, and I judge books by their cover, too. But like actually. It was Ryu Murakami's first book, a semi-autobiographical recount of his experience at age 19 with sex, drugs, and other debauchery. On the first page I was already invested. *SIDE NOTE* - I am remembering this as best as possible, I read it months ago* It immediately paints the scene of Ryu in his decrepit apartment, sitting alongside prostitute and friend "Lilly", a consistent character in the book. They share a seemingly intimate bond, and immediately goes into the two shooting up. It's quite profound, and the book wastes no time getting into the hedonistic lifestyle Ryu is living. It lacks plot, a common theme within the book genre, and is also reflective of the experience of living in a daze, chasing one high after another. Intensely graphic mentions of sex and violence are present throughout the book, which honestly drew me, as it reflects a sense of brutal honesty of the taboo. It does get gross, at times, with an orgy recount in the first, like, 30 pages. Undeniably, it's beautifully written, with the ending "spiral" bringing me to tears. I would praise this as a favorite, leading me to reading his other works, but I haven't gotten that far yet.  

 

Junky was my most recent read, as I have just finished it as of maybe an hour ago, or however long it has taken me to shower, make some tea, and write this. It is another book I used to see in my mom's collection, but Sam had got it for me in response to my enjoyment of Almost Transparent Blue (I am thankful for all my loved ones' passion for their interests, I feel the need to constantly state this because it is so important to me). This was author William S. Burroughs first book, one that he believes "isn't much of a book", and I can kind of agree. But, alike to Almost Transparent Blue, it is strikingly honest. Unlike ATB, it lacks glamour, there is no fun to be had in this retelling of his autobiographical recount of being addicted to Heroin and Morphine in 1940s New York. That doesn't even sound fun, right? Right. Nonetheless, it was an intriguing read. It follows his journey in picking up drugs after his departure from the army, and the odd jobs he picked up after. Initially, it began out of boredom, out of an intrigue for something else, something new. He gets caught, gets clean, relapses (a few times), flees to Mexico to avoid legal battles, returns back to drugs, begins losing himself, and well... you'll have to read it, if you want. I really appreciated the way he discusses why he does it, and why others get addicted. It's insightful, in a way. I will argue that I would have enjoyed it more if I had never witnessed addiction in any capacity, I think someone who hasn't could learn from it. 

In reflection of the two, I find this to be a captivating genre, humanizing the struggle of addiction. They were both vastly different, though, as I can cite cultural differences and time periods as the reason. I enjoy the rawness of it, as I feel these things should be talked about more loosely, to a degree. I'm kind of losing what I am trying to say here. I was going to compare the two some more, but I think all I should say is they are both well worth a read, and if you know me in real life, feel free to ask to borrow either one! The gift of physical media is special, so that really goes for anything. Onto more books! 

- IONA