At their most raw and cockiest

books:

	• And the Hippos Were Boiled in Their Tanks William S. Burroughs, Jack Kerouac Grove Press, 2009 - 224 pages average customer review:based on 10 reviews view larger image
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Two For The Price Of One ?

In the past I have looked at Jack Kerouac's densely-packed explanations of his early days in such thinly-veiled autobiographical novels as "Maggie Cassidy" and "Visions Of Dulouz", detailing his leap from working class Lowell to the bright lights of New York City in the very early 1940s. I have also gone on and on about the importance of William Burroughs' "Naked Lunch" in the modern American literary canon. Here, in "Hippos" (for short), we are treated to both a very, very thinly- veiled novel about the fate of their mutual friend, Lucien Carr, and his troubles with the law as a result of his killing of an older man who was seemingly psychotically sexually attracted to the young man.

The novel is meant to work at the level of straight forward, straight talking exploration of the milieu behind the Carr crime and in the process gave this reader a very interesting take on war time New York, the goings-on of the emerging "Beat" crowd and their antics, and a look at the budding literary careers of two stalwarts of the American literary canon. None of those antics, however, are remarkable or really much different from the youth adventures of other writes except the always surprising New York City night life in war time. Parties, men who want women, dope, booze, jazz, blues, women who want men, men who want men, women who want women, more booze, more dope, and a few more cigarettes. Sounds very familiar. What makes this story a cut above the rest for an early literary effort is the crime story embedded in the overall scheme of things.

Does this joint effort work? Certainly this novel tells me that both authors are "literary" men destined for bigger things, even this early on. The literary device of telling the tale from two perspectives that do not necessarily give the same emphasis to events is interesting. However, whatever reason, literary or confessional, that drove this joint effort describing a story that both were personally involved in (including some criminal complicity, after the fact) there is not enough of either man giving his all to the telling. As community-oriented (fellow "beat" community-oriented, that is) as Kerouac and Burroughs were something is missing here. And what explains what is missing is the hard fact that "beat" writers, whatever their philosophicall inclinations were primarily loners, at least loner writers. See if you agree.

Note: Although this novel has been touted mainly as a prime example of an early "beat" work the real virtue of its publication is the Afterword where William Burroughs' literary executioner gives a very detailed and important description about how this "lost" work came to see the light of day. For "beat" literary scholars presumably already familiar with the Carr case in the careers of the authors this is priceless. Even I was fascinated by the twists and turned needed to get the thing published at all.

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A Neccessary Turn

"And `The Hippos'", "Have you read `The Hippos'?"Reading is personal, like music, like socks, like learning..and so sometimes it's hard to do...but it's known when it comes into the wake, one should probably read And The Hippos Were Boiled In Their Tanks and make it a personal endeavor. I heard too much friendly "Hippo" talk and prattle about authors William S. Burroughs and Jack Kerouac to not read it. It's a subtly, delicately gossiped about book-- a big (not fat), "big-deal" book.
Starting blindly in style of execution, I lifted the cover easily, and read. It was hard; boring. Heavy-on-the-brain and a lot to digest barrenly ("what's going on? Who's `Cathcart' again?"), the movement of The Hippos into a place in me that confessed to it, was not a smooth one. It's hard to stay hooked on it, but maybe just for a theme addict and a development addict, because the novel is purely plot with no implication of implanted theme other than what is already contained between the characters and their interacting conversations. Like"Phillip", a theorist of his kind discusses (like many of the characters) possible theme, but the authors don't seem to imply it's the theme of the novel; "'The artistic man alone will find the New Vision'" (41) Although the embedded discussion is a large clue into the context of the novel, the surrounding importance, it's all very subtle.
I could've finished a book of it's friendly, non-menacing, classy-menage, "important literature" calibre in about ten hours (ten for a book is not a lot of expense), but instead I found myself tackling layered and persistent, beautifully dictated, plumply characterized plot. Plot, plot, plot. It is down to it's bare back really a plotted piece of history. And The Hippos Were Boiled In Their Tanks is a challenge to what's loved about fiction, because it's so heavy on plot, a lot to "keep up with", and like I said was rather dry at first. There was no obvious indication of theme in terms of the plot, or what we like to call "meaning" within the story: something to pull out of the pages and reinvent ourselves with, a joust to our thought, perception, room design, wall-collage of "meaningful" quotes. However, as read on, the characters become more and more authentic and although they aren't per-say "telling you something", they imagistically (and slowly) create a very vivid and involving personality for the book, telling each-other something-- involving, yet with effort. Aside from the ton of plot, another reason it's so hard to submerse yourself in is there is no diversity within the plot, no climax. It just treads, but treads beautifully, for the plot somehow enables the characters and the setting to develop gradually, and detailed with artistic detach, and vice-versa.
Half way through, I couldn't really say I liked the book, or I disliked it, for it wasn't giving me much other than a recap of elaborate certain people in elaborate certain places. But as I trudged on and finally finished, at the end, upon the murder of "Al" ( "Ramsay Allen"), the main and singular "event" that occurs, the writing takes a turn and feels very good and fetching for a final chapter. I then closed the book (after reading the afterword by James Grauerholz of course), and felt agreed and teetering on blown away..."wow, that was weird...that was an experience".
And that's exactly what it is; an experience. A prolonged, developing "wow", not an immediate one. It's a shocker and a startler, asking you to prove your commitment and dedication to the dry and cycling plot, then rewards you at the finish with a beautifully short fiasco that makes and turns the as-of-old fifteen chapters, one-hundred-and-sixty pages, worth the while. The end, if you make it, portrays the book as a lot better than you'd been led on, worth it, incredibly smart and validating of all the "Hippo talk".
As the story is told from alternating perspectives of Burroughs and Kerouac, alternating their characters of "Will Dennison" and "Mike Ryko", the two come closer together and it's sure something grand-scale is about to happen, but the novel continues to lead you on and still "nothing" happens...until the finish, where the writing style, plot confusion on the behalf of the two writers, two characters, and two perceptions, all become very effective in twisting the book into one you can actually give a consensus on. It is carefully crafted and thankfully deceiving. Will Dennison (Burroughs), in chapter sixteen, after a whole book of something, something, something (mostly nothing):
"It was about seven o'clock Monday morning when my buzzer rang and woke me up...I opened the door and Phillip slid in quick...'Here' he said, `have the last cigarette'. He held out a pack of Lucky Strikes smeared with blood. There was one cigarette left in the pack. `I just killed Al and through the body off a warehouse'. I took the cigarette and held it in my hand. Then I went and sat on the couch and motioned him to a chair opposite me. I said, `sit down and tell me all about it.'"(160)

With the turnover and go-away-ending, the repetition of the characters' dragged on daily affairs, interests and anti-climatic relationships, seem neccessary, if not brilliant, and conquered as well as conquering (your intellect).

I'm sure possible consensus vary based on an understanding of it's context and of the writers because the afterword may stand beyond essential in gaining one's respect for the book. As I mentioned and as many are evidently aware of, it's a witty and grand piece of history, that is finalized in the afterword by its confirmation of the importance of it to itself, the world of literature, the world (here comes theme!), and the writers.
It is a true story depicting a monumental segment of Burroughs' and Kerouac's involvement in a murder case, a case that ties in many of the great writers of their circle, from Ginsberg to Capote, highlighting some of their style back in Beat Generation days. They wrote the book very fragmentally in a time where the case was too hot to be written about, and so it was not published, hidden in suspended literary hyper-space. Written in 1945, it was finally published and released in 2008, once the writers had become distinctive and famed through their latter works--an interesting and important episode. It depicts their early writing, still identifying themselves, as a resurrection from all the rumor, a missing piece, a secret of literature, that would have not done nearly as well had it been released then, and that could be looked at as it's greatest adornment. This information has got to be more intriguing than the actual content of the book in itself. However the knowledge also aids the book, makes it so much more interesting and unveils its brilliance as a very carefully and well-disguised true story of a vivid segment in their history, an important piece in the development of brilliant writers--but maybe it disables it from speaking for itself. I conclude that for all the confusion, the book is very worth it if you are interested in Burroughs and Kerouac and chitter-chatter, but if you are not, as well as not a fan of drinking, sea-stories, and great homoerotic relationships, you won't make it.

"'I think I'll go down there tonight and climb into his room'...'well', I said `that's taking the bull by the horns'...But Al was serious. He said `No, I'm just going to go into his room while he's asleep and watch him for a while'...'And suppose he should wake up? He'll think it's some vampire hovering over him'...'Oh no', said Al in resigned tones, `he'll just tell me to get out. This has happened before'... `What do you do...do you just stand there'...'yes', he said. `I just get as close to him as I can without waking him up, and stand there till dawn.'" (51)

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very cool insight

This is a great book that provides you insight into the lives of two of America's greatest beat authors. A must read if you enjoy Kerouac and Burroughs.

A Slight but Fascinating Book

Almost sixty-five years ago, Jack Kerouac and William Burroughs wrote a novel together, the first for either of them, writing alternating chapters. The story was a fictionalization of the events surrounding the stabbing death in 1944 of David Kammerer by Lucien Carr, who were friends or acquaintances of Burroughs and Kerouac. Kammerer's death was the result of his years-long homosexual fascination for and advancements on Lucien Carr. Carr, just nineteen years old, pled guilty to a charge of manslaughter and spent two years in the reformatory in Elmira, New York.

This was the material the two then-unknown writers used in the writing of "And the Hippos Were Boiled in Their Tanks," the slight novel they produced together. They tried for publication at the time but failed and the manuscript remained among Kerouac's disordered papers for years. Carr, understandably, wished to put those tragic events behind him and rebuild his life, which he did, going to work for United Press International as a copyboy soon after his release, quickly rising to night news editor and eventually becoming head of UPI's news desk in his successful forty-seven-year career with UPI.

With Carr's death at the age of seventy-nine in 2005, the executors of the Kerouac and Burroughs Trust deemed the time right for the publication of "Hippos," and Grove Press brought the book out three years later.

Given the substance and success of the subsequent writings of Kerouac and Burroughs, "Hippos" is slight by comparison, but the story gives the reader fascinating glimpses of bohemian New York life during World War II, the very beginnings of the culture of the Beat Generation, which Kerouac immortalized in "On the Road," and which Burroughs delved into in "Naked Lunch." Almost as interesting as the novel itself is the thirty-page Afterword by James W. Grauerholz, long-time companion of Burroughs and the executor of his estate, who gives informative context to "the murder that gave birth to the Beats."

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At their most raw and cockiest

Presented for the first time, this legendary book chronicles the misadventures of the early founders of the Beat Generation nearly a decade before any of them acquired fame and notoriety. Here is Kerouac and Burroughs at their most raw and cockiest, characteristics that subsequently transmogrified to more gentle natures due to alcoholism, divorce, drug abuse, poverty, wanderlust, love, loss, failure, and success in the years to follow. There are many passages that illustrate this in the book, but here are a few that stand out:

Our eggs had now arrived, but Phillip's eggs were absolutely raw. He called the waitress over and said, "These eggs are raw." He illustrated the point by dipping his spoon into the eggs and pulling it out with a long streamer of raw white.
The waitress said, "You said soft-boiled eggs, didn't you?" We can't be taking things back for you."
Phillip [Lucien Carr] pushed the eggs across the counter. "Two four-minute eggs," he said. "Maybe that will simplify matters." Then he turned to me and started talking about the New Vision.
(p.16)

We had cigarettes but no matches. Phil called out to the waitress, "I say, have you a match, miss?"
The waitress said, "No."
Phillip said, "The get some," in his clear, calm tone.
(p. 18)

She [Edie Parker] said, "What are you going to do out at sea?" and I [Jack Kerouac] said, "Don't worry about the future."
(p.20)

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reviews: page 1, 2

More than sixty years ago, William S. Burroughs and Jack Kerouac sat down in New York City to write a novel about the summer of 1944, when one of their friends killed another in a moment of brutal and tragic bloodshed. The two authors were then at the dawn of their careers, having yet to write anything of note. Alternating chapters and narrators, Burroughs and Kerouac pieced together a hard-boiled tale of bohemian New York during World War II, full of drugs and obsession, art and violence. The manuscript, called And the Hippos Were Boiled in Their Tanks after a line from a news story about a fire at a circus, was submitted to publishing houses but rejected and confined to a filing cabinet for decades. First published in 2008, And The Hippos Were Boiled in Their Tanks is a remarkable piece of American literary history, a fascinating window into the lives of its authors, and an engaging novel, a fast-paced read that brings to life a shocking murder at the dawn of the Beat Generation.

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