That's followed by Jack Hirschman's “Culture and Struggle," a work that nutshells the hazards of putting ideology and pointless “creativity" above the ability to write. A tired screed about the revolutionary role of art in a time of soul-killing, media-manipulated consumer culture, it's written in a pretentious quasi-poetry format—for precisely no reason intrinsic to the text. As an inspiring argument or gripping read, it fails. It's too stilted to be incantatory, too vague to be motivating; you find yourself wondering why clarity isn't considered a revolutionary virtue.
These ups and downs repeat throughout. Susie Bright's piece about taking ownership of her rape fantasies is provocative and readable; it's counterbalanced by Annie Sprinkle's recollection of life in a sex club, which is enjoyably pervy but says nothing new. Like Selby, William S. Burroughs seems to be here for brand identity purposes.
This is the final book of Kaufman's trilogy proposing an outlaw canon (following outlaw bibles of poetry and literature). It's an admirable project—America loves its renegades—but it's too bad this volume puts more emphasis on lifestyle than writing.