I know this is a pop cultural classic. This is the first of the beat generation works I have read in its entirety. While I enjoy listening to Burroughs read some of his selected pieces, in reading Naked Lunch, I surmised that, for me, Uncle Bill is best ingested in small tastes. As an author, I come from a disciplined school of craft and structure. Naked Lunch has neither. This “novel” seemed more like typing than writing. While I understand free-association can be a form of expression, I had a difficult time slogging through this difficult-to-follow series of random thoughts and even more random snips of base observations and infantile philosophies. I found this novel neither sophisticated nor enlightening. I know there are many who will punish me for saying so, but this emperor: his clothes are invisible.