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Of course Kerouac opens part three with a lie, no surprise here. He states he’d almost been hired at a job but if you look at the context, either he’d quit or been fired. Having used a G.I. Bill check forwarded to him by his mom (now it is plain she proactively enables what she has to know are fraudulent endeavors) he’d returned home from San Francisco, and then uses another of these government education checks to return to Denver, fraudulently enrolled in school he cannot be attending if you believe his timelines. That or his attendance is spotty at best, with no real inclination to education but rather acquiring the benefits to further dissolute adventures, a deceitful literary voyeurism. This would be easy enough to accomplish, in those days government bureaucracy could not begin to keep up with actual attendance (no computers) on what amounted to an ‘honor system.’ He doesn’t find any of his despicable party friends in Denver and launches into a self-flagellating oratory of guilt, not feeling adequate, unconsummated desires, a depressed self-portrait of a loser. Then he states:

“I went to see a rich girl I knew. In the morning she pulled a hundred dollar bill out of her silk stocking and said ‘you’ve been talking of a trip to Frisco, that being the case, take this and go have your fun.’ So all my problems were solved.”

I now can believe Kerouac has been a male prostitute and as much as admits it without saying so, his ‘rich girl’ might have in her fifties and a Federal judge’s wife for all we know. He doesn’t name her. Alternatively, it might have been the Federal judge himself, dressed up as a woman for public consumption in Kerouac’s memoir. And then a whadda-ya-know moment, he catches a ride west to San Francisco with pimps. The closet whore-boy Kerouac now runs again to Cassady as though to be reunited with his one true love. There can be little doubt Kerouac and Cassady have been lovers, Kerouac and Burroughs have been lovers, Kerouac and Ginsberg have been lovers and Kerouac’s rewrite of what now amounts to a Petronius’ ‘fellatio-satyricon’ on the road, moves on.

It stretches the imagination to understand how Kerouac could possibly be idolized in literature except one were to ‘step outside the box’ of the subject at hand and look at what is idolized in a larger sense: misogyny, criminality and associated but closet lifestyle of prostituting oneself. In this case, one needn’t look far at all to discover accurate comparison of Kerouac’s work to another societal deceit on a macrocosmic scale:

I’d been perusing titles at ‘Books in Berlin’ (an English language bookstore) somewhat absent-mindedly, but noticing quite a few titles dedicated to international intrigue. I suppose that should come as no surprise, there are many CIA and other English fluent ‘spooks’ in town, as well they must have quite a few local acquaintances and it is reasonable to assume they’d be interested in ‘shop-craft’ reading.

I had no particular interest in the fiction side of the game, it is difficult enough to sort through the propaganda and disinformation rife in non-fiction titles, but then a book I happened to glance inside the front cover caught my eye.

“Body of Lies is fiction but reads like fact. CIA officers admire [author David] Ignatius because more than any other writer he understands the nuances of their trade – fascinating” George Tenant, former CIA director.

‘Well then, why not’ was my thought and I purchased the used paperback Body of Lies.

If George Tenant was accurate in his assessment of the book, and there is no reason to expect otherwise, he’d have done the agency a favor to have kept his mouth shut.

But first, the author. It has been a very long time since quality fiction has been appreciated, and David Ignatius adds to the thought. Though not as cheesy as, say, The Da Vinci Code [my other read of contemporary fiction in recent years and a profound disappointment] the quality is far short of classic American literature. It is not so much a phenomena of dearth of quality writers in modern American literature, so much as it seems there is a dearth of readers who can appreciate quality, which sadly is no longer seen in best selling works, we have not seen a Washington Irving in quite some time. David Ignatius is no Washington Irving and Body of Lies is no ‘Astoria’ .. but is better than Dan Brown’s cheese that passes for literature.

If Body of Lies accurately depicts CIA covert operatives and actions, as Tenant claims, I should recommend the book as a lesson in why CIA is about as useful to my nation as the folk proverb ‘tits on a boar.’ Other than revealing his taste for crass literary shallowness, Tenant also should have kept his mouth shut because he has authenticated/endorsed:

1) Cowboy culture and mentality. Throughout, there is a hackneyed and simplistic theme of ‘if we kill first, they won’t kill us’ coupled with the idea ‘what the politicians don’t know (breaking laws, committing murders), won’t hurt them (or us)’ leading to:

2) CIA operations officers who are culturally so selfcentered, narcissistic and vain, there is no qualm felt whatsoever at sending repentant jihadists, even innocents into intrigues, as pawns in circumstance that often gets them killed, to further any objective, no matter how minimal or trivial the gain, attended by the thinking 2 wrongs or 10 wrongs or 100 wrongs can add up to make something ‘right’ for the American people [by a virtually lawless CIA]

One gets a sense the author/book deliberately cheats certain social realities to promote a fantasy ideology, and one gets this is how a ‘body of lies’ so to speak, is fed to the agents who worship this author. The simplistic protagonist is a CIA officer with a ‘conscience’ who falls for the books heroine who does charity work in refugee camps, with plot set in the radicalized Islamic world of the ‘war on terror.’

She works on his head with a principled demand he cannot be CIA and have a future with her because someone has to be the ‘good American face’ with a demonstrable commitment to social justice for the Palestinians. But this aspect of the plot altogether fails to convince because the author hammers on a theme of ‘they all want to kill us’ [Americans] without any delving AT ALL into the WHY.

There is zero honest history presented [zero history in fact, as though it were too embarrassing to present to the reader] of the long time habit of the CIA and other western intelligence agencies manipulation/exploitation of the Islamic world on behalf of western economic models (corporate boards) with deceits, corruption and violence.

In this novel, Murder Inc (CIA) happily runs amok murdering with patriotic spin while going after Murder Inc Jr (Al Qaida) with no end in sight and no honest attending story line of how we had arrived in this circumstance.

Our CIA operational officer protagonist dutifully follows orders he knows will get people killed without cause, rhyme or reason, repeatedly, and demonstrates little conscience in this regard, if only it might lead to one more ‘tip’ and in fact it is obvious he [or the author] only is capable of caring when it comes to the woman he thinks he wants to fuck for the rest of his life, a portrait in actuality of a sociopath (at odds with any suggestion the man has real feelings.) Her character is developed almost entirely on chauvinist habit of perception, what a great lay she is, and no aspect of her ‘caring’ in the purported social cause is developed, bringing across the idea the author (and his fans) are in fact incapable of any depth in this regard.

The sympathy for Islam set in the book is mainly based in admiration for duplicity, and underlines the idea Islamic culture is based on a principle of ‘dissembling’, and there is no ‘ordinary’ Muslim character developed in any sense of a sympathetic human understanding (other than admired as a fellow killer in the trade.) In fact the books ‘happily ever after’ ending strongly sends the message there is none, and cannot be, any American with Muslim heritage accepted as a patriot or trusted to work honestly for CIA.

Body of Lies would be excellent reading for the ideologically driven intelligence agent who wished to keep his or her head in the sand and promote killing without conscience while maintaining the self-deceit a worthwhile action and patriotic goal is pursuit of western economic domination (modern corporate board colonialism.) .. no different to On the Road would be excellent reading for anyone who wished to deviously and simultaneously glorify and excuse dissolute excess.

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