I’m almost finished this godforsaken book, Naked Lunch. I think I’d rather eat lunch at a crowded diner, naked. A true 'naked lunch.' At least that would keep my attention. Okay, maybe I’m being too harsh, but I really don't like this book.
The last section of the book is a little more tolerable however. Instead of more rambling stories about nothing, er, drug trips, the end of the book consists of a series of letters the author, William S. Burroughs wrote to various editors and doctors about drug use and it’s consequences. At least there seems to be some sanity in this part of the novel.