This book is powerful and honest. Coming out in the same year as Burroughs' Naked Lunch the two works bear many striking similaruites. Compared to the other works by Kerouac I've read (On the Road, The Dharma Bums and parts of Maggie Cassidy, Subteranean angels) this book seems strikingly different. The work that Jack and Ginsberg did on the Heroin infested Burroughs' scriblings to come up with the powerhouse work, Naked Lunch, must have had a tremendous effect on Jack. This work shares the disragard for the line between fantasy and reality, a compelte self indulgeance of the writer (I can see Jack with his reams of paper, just clacking away, howling with leerie laughter like the Shadow) and a dedication to storytelling and imagination that Naked Lunch displayed. for a whilrwind read fest, try to digest the two in succession.