Yeah, that was Truman Capote on Brother Jack Kerouac. Wonder what he would've thought of William Burroughs' 'cut-up' novels. 'That isn't writing, that's cut-and-pasting words from newspapers.'
I have read a collection of Carver's short stories, Viewfinder, and even at the time I was reminded of Bukowski. I remember being impressed by the natural, truthful quality of the dialogue. A thing that's always impressed me with Bukowski: not one single line of dialogue rings false.
Now Cheever I haven't read, which I must remedy. Was there some correspondence between him and Buk in one of the Black Sparrow letters collections?
Yes, I agree about the joy of truthful dialogue in Carver's work, which is mostly set among blue-collar folk on their uppers. I recently re-read one or two stories from his collection 'Where I'm Calling From', and found them to be desperately sad, about couples struggling with their bleak lives. Very powerful stuff. Drink features frequently; Carver himself was an alcoholic until his wife, the poet Tess Gallagher, helped get him sober. Then tragically he died prematurely from lung cancer.
To start out with Cheever, I'd recommend the novel 'Bullet Park' (Vintage) or 'The Stories of John Cheever' (Penguin). I first read him about 30 years ago and was knocked sideways by the forensic detail of suburban life appearing fine on the surface but with deeply disturbing undercurrents. This situation reflected his own life: married and Catholic and living in respectable New York exurbia, but secretly cottaging with gay men in Manhattan and drinking to excess.
I'm not aware of any correspondence between Buk and Cheever. You may be thinking of Buk's friendship with the Canadian poet Al Purdy; their letters were published in book form but it's rather hard to find.
Yeah, that was Truman Capote on Brother Jack Kerouac. Wonder what he would've thought of William Burroughs' 'cut-up' novels. 'That isn't writing, that's cut-and-pasting words from newspapers.'
Mention of William Burroughs reminded me that apparently he once visited the Waterman's Arms pub on the Isle of Dogs for an evening of music-hall entertainment. Quite what this mescaline-fuelled poet made of an old cockney geezer playing the spoons is anyone's guess, but it's a delightful image. Burroughs had a flat in St James's for several years in the 1960s.
They said his novel 'The Naked Lunch' was unfilmable, but I thought it was pretty good. The paranoid claustrophobia of the alleys in a Moroccan souk, the melting typewriters....
That's right, VF, it was Al Purdy. The selected letters of Buk's I have got are Screams From The Balcony, Living On Luck and Beerspit Night and Cursing, his correspondence with Sheri Martinelli. Also remembered I've got Sunlight Here I Am. In fact, a lot more Bukowski than I thought I had. I've got the collected letters of John Fante, too, by Black Sparrow.
I once went to see an exhibition of Burroughs' art in a gallery in Lambs Conduit Street. Lots of chunks of wood spattered with the paint from the paint tins he'd shot in front of them. Not a huge fan of Burroughs, I have to say, although I have a lot of his stuff. There's quite an interesting little dual-language book he wrote exposing Scientology. It's called Ali's Smile, I seem to remember.
In terms of the Beats outside of Kerouac, one of my favourites would be Gary Snyder.
Just finished reading The Amateurs by John Niven. If you're a golfer, like a bit of sex and violence (who doesn't?) this is a good lighthearted read. That's if you can understand the Scottish dialogue.
I'm halfway through Straight White Male. It's a bit slow with only the occasional laugh. Not n the same league as Kill Your Friends
That's right, VF, it was Al Purdy. The selected letters of Buk's I have got are Screams From The Balcony, Living On Luck and Beerspit Night and Cursing, his correspondence with Sheri Martinelli. Also remembered I've got Sunlight Here I Am. In fact, a lot more Bukowski than I thought I had. I've got the collected letters of John Fante, too, by Black Sparrow.
I once went to see an exhibition of Burroughs' art in a gallery in Lambs Conduit Street. Lots of chunks of wood spattered with the paint from the paint tins he'd shot in front of them. Not a huge fan of Burroughs, I have to say, although I have a lot of his stuff. There's quite an interesting little dual-language book he wrote exposing Scientology. It's called Ali's Smile, I seem to remember.
In terms of the Beats outside of Kerouac, one of my favourites would be Gary Snyder.
I admire your wide knowledge of American writers, Hawksmoor. Mention of John Fante reminds me of Steinbeck's 'Cannery Row', set in the same neighbourhood of LA as Fante's locations. An earlier poster on here enthused about Steinbeck, and a friend of mine has been raving about his vivid and atmospheric descriptions of a tough life during the Depression.
Yes, by all accounts William Burroughs was a very rum cove, shooting his wife and all the rest. I was recently sent a video clip of him talking about his work; I'll try to post the link on here....
I'm embarrassed to say, I've not read any Steinbeck, VF. In terms of British writers, I'm a big fan of Iain Sinclair. His books can be a little daunting, but I think he's one of the great London writers. He's a big Beat fan, too. In fact, my user name, was inspired by Sinclair's championing of the architect Nicholas Hawksmoor. When Sinclair first started writing about his buildings (Lud Heat, White Chapel Scarlet Tracings), Hawksmoor was largely forgotten.
I also like David Peace, who again can be a little intimidating. Although, I fear he's in danger of becoming a caricature of himself. His latest book, Red Or Dead, about Bill Shankly, has a lot of passages like this:
'Bill walked backwards and forwards. With the sack. Backwards and forwards. Picking up the glass and the rocks. The glass and the rocks that he put in the sack. Backwards and fowards with the sack. The sack that contained the glass and the rocks.'
Yeah, that was Truman Capote on Brother Jack Kerouac. Wonder what he would've thought of William Burroughs' 'cut-up' novels. 'That isn't writing, that's cut-and-pasting words from newspapers.'
Mention of William Burroughs reminded me that apparently he once visited the Waterman's Arms pub on the Isle of Dogs for an evening of music-hall entertainment. Quite what this mescaline-fuelled poet made of an old cockney geezer playing the spoons is anyone's guess, but it's a delightful image.
Couldn't place the pub. A quick search shows it's changed it's name. The image you have may be spoiled when you find out the pub at the time was owned by a TV personality and appears to have been a celebrity hang out.
That's right, VF, it was Al Purdy. The selected letters of Buk's I have got are Screams From The Balcony, Living On Luck and Beerspit Night and Cursing, his correspondence with Sheri Martinelli. Also remembered I've got Sunlight Here I Am. In fact, a lot more Bukowski than I thought I had. I've got the collected letters of John Fante, too, by Black Sparrow.
I once went to see an exhibition of Burroughs' art in a gallery in Lambs Conduit Street. Lots of chunks of wood spattered with the paint from the paint tins he'd shot in front of them. Not a huge fan of Burroughs, I have to say, although I have a lot of his stuff. There's quite an interesting little dual-language book he wrote exposing Scientology. It's called Ali's Smile, I seem to remember.
In terms of the Beats outside of Kerouac, one of my favourites would be Gary Snyder.
Mention of John Fante reminds me of Steinbeck's 'Cannery Row', set in the same neighbourhood of LA as Fante's locations.
Cannery Row was set on the West Coast of America, not in LA but Monterey.
Yeah, that was Truman Capote on Brother Jack Kerouac. Wonder what he would've thought of William Burroughs' 'cut-up' novels. 'That isn't writing, that's cut-and-pasting words from newspapers.'
Mention of William Burroughs reminded me that apparently he once visited the Waterman's Arms pub on the Isle of Dogs for an evening of music-hall entertainment. Quite what this mescaline-fuelled poet made of an old cockney geezer playing the spoons is anyone's guess, but it's a delightful image.
Couldn't place the pub. A quick search shows it's changed it's name. The image you have may be spoiled when you find out the pub at the time was owned by a TV personality and appears to have been a celebrity hang out.
That's right, VF, it was Al Purdy. The selected letters of Buk's I have got are Screams From The Balcony, Living On Luck and Beerspit Night and Cursing, his correspondence with Sheri Martinelli. Also remembered I've got Sunlight Here I Am. In fact, a lot more Bukowski than I thought I had. I've got the collected letters of John Fante, too, by Black Sparrow.
I once went to see an exhibition of Burroughs' art in a gallery in Lambs Conduit Street. Lots of chunks of wood spattered with the paint from the paint tins he'd shot in front of them. Not a huge fan of Burroughs, I have to say, although I have a lot of his stuff. There's quite an interesting little dual-language book he wrote exposing Scientology. It's called Ali's Smile, I seem to remember.
In terms of the Beats outside of Kerouac, one of my favourites would be Gary Snyder.
Mention of John Fante reminds me of Steinbeck's 'Cannery Row', set in the same neighbourhood of LA as Fante's locations.
Cannery Row was set on the West Coast of America, not in LA but Monterey.
Thanks for correcting my poor geography, Sheffield.
The Waterman's Arms is now called the Great Eastern; it's at 1 Glenaffric Avenue, E14, near the southern tip of the Isle of Dogs. The www.beerintheevening.com website shows a photo of the pub under the old name. For a couple of years in the 1960s it was owned by Daniel Farson: author, Soho habitué, and early TV chat-show host. He revived music-hall acts in the pub, and American stars of stage and screen appearing in the West End would cab it to the Waterman's across what was then a very run-down area, for an evening of raucous and bawdy entertainment.
Daniel Farson was a terrific writer, always vivid and engaging, and full of anecdotes. He wrote the classic 'Soho in the Fifties' (Michael Joseph, 1987), out of print but available if you search. And I can thoroughly recommend his autobiography, which covers his time at the Waterman's Arms: 'Never a Normal Man' (HarperCollins, 1997).
Yeah, that was Truman Capote on Brother Jack Kerouac. Wonder what he would've thought of William Burroughs' 'cut-up' novels. 'That isn't writing, that's cut-and-pasting words from newspapers.'
Mention of William Burroughs reminded me that apparently he once visited the Waterman's Arms pub on the Isle of Dogs for an evening of music-hall entertainment. Quite what this mescaline-fuelled poet made of an old cockney geezer playing the spoons is anyone's guess, but it's a delightful image.
Couldn't place the pub. A quick search shows it's changed it's name. The image you have may be spoiled when you find out the pub at the time was owned by a TV personality and appears to have been a celebrity hang out.
That's right, VF, it was Al Purdy. The selected letters of Buk's I have got are Screams From The Balcony, Living On Luck and Beerspit Night and Cursing, his correspondence with Sheri Martinelli. Also remembered I've got Sunlight Here I Am. In fact, a lot more Bukowski than I thought I had. I've got the collected letters of John Fante, too, by Black Sparrow.
I once went to see an exhibition of Burroughs' art in a gallery in Lambs Conduit Street. Lots of chunks of wood spattered with the paint from the paint tins he'd shot in front of them. Not a huge fan of Burroughs, I have to say, although I have a lot of his stuff. There's quite an interesting little dual-language book he wrote exposing Scientology. It's called Ali's Smile, I seem to remember.
In terms of the Beats outside of Kerouac, one of my favourites would be Gary Snyder.
Mention of John Fante reminds me of Steinbeck's 'Cannery Row', set in the same neighbourhood of LA as Fante's locations.
Cannery Row was set on the West Coast of America, not in LA but Monterey.
Incidentally, I was on the Docklands Light Railway recently and the conductor called out "Canary Wharf", the Canary pronounced "Cannery". Reminded me then of John Steinbeck!
I also like David Peace, who again can be a little intimidating. Although, I fear he's in danger of becoming a caricature of himself. His latest book, Red Or Dead, about Bill Shankly, has a lot of passages like this:
'Bill walked backwards and forwards. With the sack. Backwards and forwards. Picking up the glass and the rocks. The glass and the rocks that he put in the sack. Backwards and fowards with the sack. The sack that contained the glass and the rocks.'
I know what you mean. Trying to read his Tokyo trilogy severely hampered my efforts to complete a '100 books in a year' challenge a few years ago.
I noted this passage from Occupied City:
"Beneath the Black Gate, in its upper chamber, in the candle-light, no plague-light; white light, hospital-white, laboratory-white, then grey, an overcast-skin-grey then open vein blue, blue and now green, a culture-grown-green then yellow, yellow, thick-caught-spittle-yellow, streaked sticking-string-red, then black; black-black, drop-drop, black-black step-step, in the plague-light drop-drop, step-step, in the plague- light-"
Wow, Matt. You'd have thought it would have had thick red pencil right through that passage on the manuscript.
I've read Peace's Tokyo Year Zero and wasn't entirely sure what it was about. I mean, I could relate the basic plot... Just like his GB84. I read it, I remember enjoying it, but I couldn't tell you exactly 'what happened'. Peace's books can very allusive in the same way that Iain Sinclair's books are. I absolutely loved Sinclair's Downriver, for instance, even though for much of it, I was aware that I wasn't entirely grasping it. I mean, I think I did, but I'm not sure. They're like that, Peace and Sinclair.
Wow, Matt. You'd have thought it would have had thick red pencil right through that passage on the manuscript.
I've read Peace's Tokyo Year Zero and wasn't entirely sure what it was about. I mean, I could relate the basic plot... Just like his GB84. I read it, I remember enjoying it, but I couldn't tell you exactly 'what happened'. Peace's books can very allusive in the same way that Iain Sinclair's books are. I absolutely loved Sinclair's Downriver, for instance, even though for much of it, I was aware that I wasn't entirely grasping it. I mean, I think I did, but I'm not sure. They're like that, Peace and Sinclair.
I'm a huge fan of Iain Sinclair's prose and journalism - haven't tried his poetry - and don't understand all of it, yet somehow the pleasure of reading it is undiminished. Sinclair assumes his readers are knowledgeable and he refuses to talk down or explain. Books such as 'Lights Out For The Territory' and 'London Orbital' connect with me because I too take long urban walks with a notebook and camera; Sinclair's writing is free-wheeling and allusive, and acts on me like a shot of adrenaline. He's extremely clever with the technique of writing, too: notice how he minimises the use of the word 'I' to avoid any resemblance of writing a diary; also how he succeeds with short, staccato sentences without verbs that from another writer's pen may read like an irritating affectation.
I simply couldn't read stuff like the David Peace quoted above. Chi-chi or modish writing is ultimately boring; "No tricks", Raymond Carver implored.
I'm embarrassed to say, I've not read any Steinbeck, VF. In terms of British writers, I'm a big fan of Iain Sinclair. His books can be a little daunting, but I think he's one of the great London writers. He's a big Beat fan, too. In fact, my user name, was inspired by Sinclair's championing of the architect Nicholas Hawksmoor. When Sinclair first started writing about his buildings (Lud Heat, White Chapel Scarlet Tracings), Hawksmoor was largely forgotten.
I also like David Peace, who again can be a little intimidating. Although, I fear he's in danger of becoming a caricature of himself. His latest book, Red Or Dead, about Bill Shankly, has a lot of passages like this:
'Bill walked backwards and forwards. With the sack. Backwards and forwards. Picking up the glass and the rocks. The glass and the rocks that he put in the sack. Backwards and fowards with the sack. The sack that contained the glass and the rocks.'
I did wonder about the significance of your username and am delighted that you too are a Sinclair devotee. One of the most enlightening and entertaining evenings I have ever had was in the theatre at the British Library when Iain Sinclair and Chris Petit swapped banter and talked about the writing and filming of 'London Orbital'. At the end I shamelessly rushed the stage like a groupie and got the great man to sign my copies of his books.
The only dud of his I have read is 'The Edge of Orison', the second half of which is concerned with tracing the roots of his wife's family; I found this tedious and self-indulgent. But all else is brilliant, invigorating, and bristling with ideas and contemporary cultural references. A few months ago I watched a screening of extracts from his film 'Swandown', in which he and Andrew Kotting travel by pedalo round the coast from Hastings and up the Thames and the Lea to the Olympic Park. Delightfully batty and gently subversive.
You mention Sinclair's interest in the Beats; Amazon flags up his forthcoming book, 'American Smoke', out in November: "an epic walk in the footsteps of Malcolm Lowry, Charles Olson, Jack Kerouac, William Burroughs, Gary Snyder and more"....
I also like David Peace, who again can be a little intimidating. Although, I fear he's in danger of becoming a caricature of himself. His latest book, Red Or Dead, about Bill Shankly, has a lot of passages like this:
'Bill walked backwards and forwards. With the sack. Backwards and forwards. Picking up the glass and the rocks. The glass and the rocks that he put in the sack. Backwards and fowards with the sack. The sack that contained the glass and the rocks.'
Taylor Parkes spent two pages of last month's When Saturday Comes slating this book and the style of writing.
I am currently reading "Unknown Pleasures - Inside Joy Division" by Peter Hook. Written in the same blokey style as his book about the Hacienda, it is a real insight into the band, but can be a little irritating when he attributes to being northern, traits that are common to any youngsters leaving school and starting a band anywhere in the UK.
I liked "The Damned United" and didn't find the writing style problematic at all but I've been put off by the reviews on the Shankley novel. I can understand what he is trying to do but it's not my cup of tea.
I'm embarrassed to say, I've not read any Steinbeck, VF. In terms of British writers, I'm a big fan of Iain Sinclair. His books can be a little daunting, but I think he's one of the great London writers. He's a big Beat fan, too. In fact, my user name, was inspired by Sinclair's championing of the architect Nicholas Hawksmoor. When Sinclair first started writing about his buildings (Lud Heat, White Chapel Scarlet Tracings), Hawksmoor was largely forgotten.
I also like David Peace, who again can be a little intimidating. Although, I fear he's in danger of becoming a caricature of himself. His latest book, Red Or Dead, about Bill Shankly, has a lot of passages like this:
'Bill walked backwards and forwards. With the sack. Backwards and forwards. Picking up the glass and the rocks. The glass and the rocks that he put in the sack. Backwards and fowards with the sack. The sack that contained the glass and the rocks.'
I did wonder about the significance of your username and am delighted that you too are a Sinclair devotee. One of the most enlightening and entertaining evenings I have ever had was in the theatre at the British Library when Iain Sinclair and Chris Petit swapped banter and talked about the writing and filming of 'London Orbital'. At the end I shamelessly rushed the stage like a groupie and got the great man to sign my copies of his books.
The only dud of his I have read is 'The Edge of Orison', the second half of which is concerned with tracing the roots of his wife's family; I found this tedious and self-indulgent. But all else is brilliant, invigorating, and bristling with ideas and contemporary cultural references. A few months ago I watched a screening of extracts from his film 'Swandown', in which he and Andrew Kotting travel by pedalo round the coast from Hastings and up the Thames and the Lea to the Olympic Park. Delightfully batty and gently subversive.
You mention Sinclair's interest in the Beats; Amazon flags up his forthcoming book, 'American Smoke', out in November: "an epic walk in the footsteps of Malcolm Lowry, Charles Olson, Jack Kerouac, William Burroughs, Gary Snyder and more"....
Woah. American Smoke? Sinclair and the Beats (and fringe Beats)? Has there ever been a book more tailored to me? Beat Scene did publish Sinclair's account of knocking round London with Ginsberg a few years ago. Might still be available.
With Edge of the Orison, at least I learnt something about John Clare. I enjoyed it but it's not vintage Sinclair, and I much preferred the previous book, Dining On Stones.
Lights Out For The Territory was the first of his I read and I've been a huge Sinclair fan ever since. Was chuffed to read about his visiting Charlton Village in that book.
His most recent, Ghost Milk, is very accessible. Perhaps his most mainstream book. But, typical of readers like us, VF, I don't think that was a particularly good thing!
I did see Sinclair at the Barbican hosting a motley crew of performance artists and poets around the time of London Orbital (and, of course, there was the Petit/Sinclair TV film that 'accompanied' that book). JG Ballard was scheduled to co-host, but he was ill so Sinclair shared the stage with a life-size cardboard cut-out of Ballard.
Hawksmoor - Yes, Sinclair's 'American Smoke' sounds right up your street. It'll be published on 7 November and is available for pre-order on Amazon for £13.20 inc. p&p, compared with 20 quid in the shops. I recently re-read 'Lights Out For The Territory', with its references to Charlton and Woolwich, and was enthralled once again.
I agree with you about 'Ghost Milk' being "accessible"; as was his Hackney book, being quite traditional in its form of interviews with residents past and present. I also enjoyed 'Dining on Stones' once I had got a handle on his interweaving of fact and fiction. Another writer in a similar vein you might know is Patrick Wright; his 'A Journey Through Ruins' is all about Hackney and Dalston: more scholarly than Sinclair and still captivating.
I also like Sinclair's reviews and essays; last time I looked, there was an archive of these on the London Review of Books website, including a brilliantly impressionistic account of his recent trip on the Tilbury ferry and wander around Gravesend.
That's right, VF, it was Al Purdy. The selected letters of Buk's I have got are Screams From The Balcony, Living On Luck and Beerspit Night and Cursing, his correspondence with Sheri Martinelli. Also remembered I've got Sunlight Here I Am. In fact, a lot more Bukowski than I thought I had. I've got the collected letters of John Fante, too, by Black Sparrow.
I once went to see an exhibition of Burroughs' art in a gallery in Lambs Conduit Street. Lots of chunks of wood spattered with the paint from the paint tins he'd shot in front of them. Not a huge fan of Burroughs, I have to say, although I have a lot of his stuff. There's quite an interesting little dual-language book he wrote exposing Scientology. It's called Ali's Smile, I seem to remember.
In terms of the Beats outside of Kerouac, one of my favourites would be Gary Snyder.
Hawksmoor - There's an interview with Gary Snyder by Iain Sinclair on the London Review of Books website, published in 2012 and headed 'The Man in the Clearing'.
Wow, Matt. You'd have thought it would have had thick red pencil right through that passage on the manuscript.
I've read Peace's Tokyo Year Zero and wasn't entirely sure what it was about. I mean, I could relate the basic plot... Just like his GB84. I read it, I remember enjoying it, but I couldn't tell you exactly 'what happened'. Peace's books can very allusive in the same way that Iain Sinclair's books are. I absolutely loved Sinclair's Downriver, for instance, even though for much of it, I was aware that I wasn't entirely grasping it. I mean, I think I did, but I'm not sure. They're like that, Peace and Sinclair.
Wow, Matt. You'd have thought it would have had thick red pencil right through that passage on the manuscript.
I've read Peace's Tokyo Year Zero and wasn't entirely sure what it was about. I mean, I could relate the basic plot... Just like his GB84. I read it, I remember enjoying it, but I couldn't tell you exactly 'what happened'. Peace's books can very allusive in the same way that Iain Sinclair's books are. I absolutely loved Sinclair's Downriver, for instance, even though for much of it, I was aware that I wasn't entirely grasping it. I mean, I think I did, but I'm not sure. They're like that, Peace and Sinclair.
Sorry to butt in, but I picked up Tokyo year zero a few years ago in a pith hostel. If I didn't have nothing else to read I would have given up. It stayed in my head though and was atmospheric, though I'm not quite sure he achieved what he set out to achieve. I've not bothered with the sequel
I finished Crime and Punishment last week. It was okay but became too much of a family drama for my liking, I thought it was going to be more philosophical.
With that such a hard slog and GTA5 coming out I am going to have a break from proper reading. However, I've just purchased I am Zlatan which I think I'm going to get through quickly. Should be interesting, funny and insightful.
Wow, Matt. You'd have thought it would have had thick red pencil right through that passage on the manuscript.
I've read Peace's Tokyo Year Zero and wasn't entirely sure what it was about. I mean, I could relate the basic plot... Just like his GB84. I read it, I remember enjoying it, but I couldn't tell you exactly 'what happened'. Peace's books can very allusive in the same way that Iain Sinclair's books are. I absolutely loved Sinclair's Downriver, for instance, even though for much of it, I was aware that I wasn't entirely grasping it. I mean, I think I did, but I'm not sure. They're like that, Peace and Sinclair.
Excellent stuff, Matt. I've yet to take the plunge into Occupied City. I wonder if Peace's signature style of short-sentenced repetition has been influenced by James Ellroy, and especially Ellroy's The Cold Six Thousand (I am the only person I know who actually finished it.) They're both highly stylised writers who work ostensibly in the crime genre. Ellroy actually advised readers to read his White Jazz in one sitting otherwise you haven't got a hope of understanding it. I didn't take his advice and, guess what? Didn't have a clue! I do remember one hellishly nightmarish sequence with a Samurai sword and an 8mm camera…
Two Brothers - Ben Elton, haven't read any of his before but from what I understand they're normally not like this. I'm really into it so far, a really good but unpleasant read.
Currently reading two books - Berlin: The Downfall by Antony Beevor and the House of Hades by Rick Riordan (Percy Jackson young adult books but have always enjoyed Mythology)
I get through quite a number of books quickly so will probably post on here quite often!!
Comments
To start out with Cheever, I'd recommend the novel 'Bullet Park' (Vintage) or 'The Stories of John Cheever' (Penguin). I first read him about 30 years ago and was knocked sideways by the forensic detail of suburban life appearing fine on the surface but with deeply disturbing undercurrents. This situation reflected his own life: married and Catholic and living in respectable New York exurbia, but secretly cottaging with gay men in Manhattan and drinking to excess.
I'm not aware of any correspondence between Buk and Cheever. You may be thinking of Buk's friendship with the Canadian poet Al Purdy; their letters were published in book form but it's rather hard to find.
They said his novel 'The Naked Lunch' was unfilmable, but I thought it was pretty good. The paranoid claustrophobia of the alleys in a Moroccan souk, the melting typewriters....
I once went to see an exhibition of Burroughs' art in a gallery in Lambs Conduit Street. Lots of chunks of wood spattered with the paint from the paint tins he'd shot in front of them. Not a huge fan of Burroughs, I have to say, although I have a lot of his stuff. There's quite an interesting little dual-language book he wrote exposing Scientology. It's called Ali's Smile, I seem to remember.
In terms of the Beats outside of Kerouac, one of my favourites would be Gary Snyder.
Yes, by all accounts William Burroughs was a very rum cove, shooting his wife and all the rest. I was recently sent a video clip of him talking about his work; I'll try to post the link on here....
I also like David Peace, who again can be a little intimidating. Although, I fear he's in danger of becoming a caricature of himself. His latest book, Red Or Dead, about Bill Shankly, has a lot of passages like this:
'Bill walked backwards and forwards. With the sack. Backwards and forwards. Picking up the glass and the rocks. The glass and the rocks that he put in the sack. Backwards and fowards with the sack. The sack that contained the glass and the rocks.'
The Waterman's Arms is now called the Great Eastern; it's at 1 Glenaffric Avenue, E14, near the southern tip of the Isle of Dogs. The www.beerintheevening.com website shows a photo of the pub under the old name. For a couple of years in the 1960s it was owned by Daniel Farson: author, Soho habitué, and early TV chat-show host. He revived music-hall acts in the pub, and American stars of stage and screen appearing in the West End would cab it to the Waterman's across what was then a very run-down area, for an evening of raucous and bawdy entertainment.
Daniel Farson was a terrific writer, always vivid and engaging, and full of anecdotes. He wrote the classic 'Soho in the Fifties' (Michael Joseph, 1987), out of print but available if you search. And I can thoroughly recommend his autobiography, which covers his time at the Waterman's Arms: 'Never a Normal Man' (HarperCollins, 1997).
I noted this passage from Occupied City:
"Beneath the Black Gate, in its upper chamber, in the candle-light, no plague-light; white light, hospital-white, laboratory-white, then grey, an overcast-skin-grey then open vein blue, blue and now green, a culture-grown-green then yellow, yellow, thick-caught-spittle-yellow, streaked sticking-string-red, then black;
black-black, drop-drop, black-black
step-step, in the plague-light
drop-drop, step-step,
in the plague-
light-"
There was almost 300 pages of that...
I've read Peace's Tokyo Year Zero and wasn't entirely sure what it was about. I mean, I could relate the basic plot... Just like his GB84. I read it, I remember enjoying it, but I couldn't tell you exactly 'what happened'. Peace's books can very allusive in the same way that Iain Sinclair's books are. I absolutely loved Sinclair's Downriver, for instance, even though for much of it, I was aware that I wasn't entirely grasping it. I mean, I think I did, but I'm not sure. They're like that, Peace and Sinclair.
I simply couldn't read stuff like the David Peace quoted above. Chi-chi or modish writing is ultimately boring; "No tricks", Raymond Carver implored.
The only dud of his I have read is 'The Edge of Orison', the second half of which is concerned with tracing the roots of his wife's family; I found this tedious and self-indulgent. But all else is brilliant, invigorating, and bristling with ideas and contemporary cultural references. A few months ago I watched a screening of extracts from his film 'Swandown', in which he and Andrew Kotting travel by pedalo round the coast from Hastings and up the Thames and the Lea to the Olympic Park. Delightfully batty and gently subversive.
You mention Sinclair's interest in the Beats; Amazon flags up his forthcoming book, 'American Smoke', out in November: "an epic walk in the footsteps of Malcolm Lowry, Charles Olson, Jack Kerouac, William Burroughs, Gary Snyder and more"....
I am currently reading "Unknown Pleasures - Inside Joy Division" by Peter Hook. Written in the same blokey style as his book about the Hacienda, it is a real insight into the band, but can be a little irritating when he attributes to being northern, traits that are common to any youngsters leaving school and starting a band anywhere in the UK.
With Edge of the Orison, at least I learnt something about John Clare. I enjoyed it but it's not vintage Sinclair, and I much preferred the previous book, Dining On Stones.
Lights Out For The Territory was the first of his I read and I've been a huge Sinclair fan ever since. Was chuffed to read about his visiting Charlton Village in that book.
His most recent, Ghost Milk, is very accessible. Perhaps his most mainstream book. But, typical of readers like us, VF, I don't think that was a particularly good thing!
I did see Sinclair at the Barbican hosting a motley crew of performance artists and poets around the time of London Orbital (and, of course, there was the Petit/Sinclair TV film that 'accompanied' that book). JG Ballard was scheduled to co-host, but he was ill so Sinclair shared the stage with a life-size cardboard cut-out of Ballard.
I agree with you about 'Ghost Milk' being "accessible"; as was his Hackney book, being quite traditional in its form of interviews with residents past and present. I also enjoyed 'Dining on Stones' once I had got a handle on his interweaving of fact and fiction. Another writer in a similar vein you might know is Patrick Wright; his 'A Journey Through Ruins' is all about Hackney and Dalston: more scholarly than Sinclair and still captivating.
I also like Sinclair's reviews and essays; last time I looked, there was an archive of these on the London Review of Books website, including a brilliantly impressionistic account of his recent trip on the Tilbury ferry and wander around Gravesend.
Not read any Iain Sinclair - will give him a go.
Great author!!
With that such a hard slog and GTA5 coming out I am going to have a break from proper reading. However, I've just purchased I am Zlatan which I think I'm going to get through quickly. Should be interesting, funny and insightful.
I get through quite a number of books quickly so will probably post on here quite often!!