"I've just finished my next collection, Possible Side Effects, and I'm now working on a collection of holiday stories as well as a memoir about my relationship with my father"
About this Quote
Burroughs doesn’t announce a life so much as a production schedule, and that’s the tell. The line reads like a breezy update, but it’s also an argument for why his messiest material deserves shelf space: the personal has been metabolized into output. “Possible Side Effects” signals his signature move, taking the language of medicine and self-help and using it to frame experience as something you survive, then package. The title winks at fallout: humor as the warning label on pain.
Then he pivots to “holiday stories” and a father memoir, a tonal jump that’s doing quiet work. Holidays are supposed to be cozy, communal, predictable; Burroughs is famous for the opposite. By placing them side by side, he suggests the same engine powers both: ritual as a pressure cooker, family as the original genre fiction. The subtext is that “holiday” is not a refuge from trauma but a setting where it reappears with better lighting and worse expectations.
The father memoirstanding alone could sound solemn. Here it’s folded into a list, which is both protective and provocative. Protective, because he refuses the confessional voice that begs for sympathy; provocative, because he implies even the sacred cow of paternal grief can be handled with the briskness of a work-in-progress. Context matters: Burroughs built a career turning childhood chaos into deadpan, high-voltage narrative. This update reassures readers the pipeline is still open - and quietly dares them to admit they come for the side effects.
Then he pivots to “holiday stories” and a father memoir, a tonal jump that’s doing quiet work. Holidays are supposed to be cozy, communal, predictable; Burroughs is famous for the opposite. By placing them side by side, he suggests the same engine powers both: ritual as a pressure cooker, family as the original genre fiction. The subtext is that “holiday” is not a refuge from trauma but a setting where it reappears with better lighting and worse expectations.
The father memoirstanding alone could sound solemn. Here it’s folded into a list, which is both protective and provocative. Protective, because he refuses the confessional voice that begs for sympathy; provocative, because he implies even the sacred cow of paternal grief can be handled with the briskness of a work-in-progress. Context matters: Burroughs built a career turning childhood chaos into deadpan, high-voltage narrative. This update reassures readers the pipeline is still open - and quietly dares them to admit they come for the side effects.
Quote Details
| Topic | Father |
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