Book Review

Book Review

The Cat Inside

by William S. Burroughs

     Shortly before he died, William S. Burroughs put together The Cat Inside, probably a last ditch attempt to capitalize off his enduring fame to make enough money to keep his heroin habit going until the end. He might not have actually written it; rumor has it that he dictated it to James Grauerholz. There are two categories of people who will get something out this: William Burroughs admirers and people who love cats. I am one of the former, not the latter but that does not influence my opinion much that those in the former group will get the most out of The Cat Inside because of the insights it offers into the character of William S. Burroughs himself.

     The reading is simple. Written in short, simple descriptive prose, most passages are less than half a page long. It almost has the feel of Buddhist or Taoist allegories in its direct and brief delivery, albeit without a whole lot of goofy morals tacked on at the end. Cats, for Burroughs, are like the familiar spirits of witches and magicians; quiet and mysterious, they appear to be inhabiting more than one world at the same time. He covers the relationship between cats and humans throughout history and contrasts them with dogs who he does not actually dislike. What Burroughs does dislike is the way humans have taken the nature out of dogs and made them more like humans whereas cats have always maintained their independent nature.

     Aside from his love of cats, Burroughs comments extensively on the human capacity for brutality towards the natural world. He is deeply critical of the way people have destroyed animal habitations for pleasure and for the progressian of an increasingly stupid, authoritarian, and oafish movement away from our free and natural selves. The presence of Burroughs the environmentalist is heavily felt throughout the book.

     Most of the rest of the passages are about Burroughs and his cats. They play, they hunt, they wrestle, eat, and cuddle with him in bed at night. One insightful passage tells the story of how one of his cats ran away and was later found in the animal shelter. He asked the police what the cat was doing when he got picked up and they answered that cats must be on a leash when outside a home. But Burroughs wanted to know what the cat was actually doing; the idea of a dopey cop busting cats on vagrancy and loitering charges looked a little too pathetic to this writer who had a lifelong hatred of the police.

     Overall, a clear picture of William Burroughs emerges as he describes his relationship with cats. He comes off as quiet, humble, soft spoken, and downright gentle. This is a sharp contrast to such novels as Junky, Naked Lunch, and the Nova Trilogy with their excessive filth and violence. But looked at from a distance this makes sense; the world could seem extremely harsh and cruel in the eyes of a rather calm and introspective man.

     This is certainly not a work of great literature. Descriptions of the things cats ordinarily do are not novel or unique and reading about them is not the most exciting thing in the world. If The Cat Inside had been any longer it would not be worth reading at all. There are a few moments of dark humor that keep it going along though.

     For cat lovers, The Cat Inside will not cover any new territory. What makes it worth reading once is the candid account of William S. Burroughs. This is the only literature where he sheds his grotesque armor and shows the world who he really is. For a lot of the people who love his works, this is the best gift and final chapter to his life that he could give.

Burroughs, William S. The Cat Inside. Viking, New York: 1992.