I had it for too much time

I just finished rereading the Anthony Burgess 2 volume autobiography . “Little Wilson and Big God” and “You’ve Had Your Time” . First I have to thank Nitrovski Boraxski (or whatever he’s calling himself lately) for his patience in letting me sit on it for oh, maybe, say about a year? Maybe more. Too danged long anyway. Especially since I owe him the debt of hipping me to it in the first place. But, it was actually good that I waited, sort of one of those magical confluence's, because I understand him so much better now than the first time through. As well as that if I hadn’t taken a bunch of philosophy and Lit. classes I would have missed out on a bunch of stuff again. Not that I am claiming to understand Anthony Burgess. That guy is way out here in terms of education, brilliance, talent and a big dose of wackiness.

But things kept popping up that were oddly synchronistic. For example only a day or two after my little spaz about reeds and harmonicas I’m reading about him composing classical pieces for harmonica players such as John Sebastian’s father John Sebastian. Then he gave a little rundown on the musical structure of harmonica playing, which I of course did not understand. And he kept talking about things which I have been thinking about. All kinds of things, from villanelles to Rousseau to Kuala Lumpur to T.S. Elliott. He even touched on the same themes as my John MacDonald quote earlier, when he returned to Malaysia and saw them trying to get westernized.

I have some trouble reading his books, but at least now I get that it’s because he does crazy things like taking an ancient myth (normally that would be right up my alley) then sets it in a more modern time. Then takes some form of something like a Beethoven Sonata, or a mathematical formula, or a Kabbalistic prayer or whatever and overlays it onto the shape of the novel and writes within the parameters of that thing, whatever it may have been. All according to some formulae that almost no one else can recognize except him and a few other brilliant genius types.

He spoke (and read and wrote) like 20 languages. He made the language for the movie “Quest For Fire”. He was this crazy master linguist with the diphthongs and the schwas and all that. He makes me wish that someone had forced me into a classical education. I have missed so much and he did everything!

And how did old skool dudes like him drink so damn much and survive with brain cells intact? Everybody in his world is a total bloody sot . I swear there isn’t a single page without alcohol mentioned on it. I guess once you’ve survived being in the British military in WWII you can survive a lot of other abuse.

So I am highly recommending these books. This from someone who basically never reads nonfiction and things like biographies. It’s got everything travel, animals, lot’s of sex, mysticism, music and sword canes.