I personally can't stand the characters. They cover up irresponsibility and real hurt to people in the guise of being artists. However, I do think there is more to this story.

Sure, they are jerks and they are bums and they are full of a lot of BS but as the book progresses, it becomes clear that they know it. These guys are also WW2 vets, and very dissimilar to the hippies who follow them, they do not have any anti-American or anti-establishment feelings. Also, they show a deep remorse and guilt over their actions. There is a shame, because they recognize what jerks they are. After several weeks of living with the mexican girl and her son, the narrator deserts her and he knows that he'll never live up to his promise to come back. He hates himself for this but it doesn't stop him. While he so desperately seeks to squeeze the wonder out of life, he lets everything really beautiful-such as love with a woman or any real human relationships slip from his careless grasp. The narrator as more of a terribly sad man, not just a happy-go-lucky thrill seker.

I do wonder about the real life Dean Moriarty. Did you realize that he was the bus driver in Wolfe's Electric Kool-aid Acid Test as well as mentioned in several Grateful Dead songs? Something about that guy really insprired the artisits around him.

As for the writing, it is beautiful and I think some of the best writing ever done about America. Googgle "On the Road Quotes" and reread a few of those. Its beautiful stuff.

They're just good ol' boys never meaning no harm, making their way the only way they know how, but that's just a bit more than the law will allow...

The characters of Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty in Jack Kerouac's On the Road are 20th Century equivalents of Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer: boys having joyous American adventures. Sal and Dean trip (in more ways than one) back and forth from the east coast to the west, and down south even as far as Mexico, always looking to get their kicks. It's a free-flowing good time perfectly delivered in Kerouac's jazzy beat style.

Most of the book follows their ultimate liberation, psycho-philosophical, free-wheeling adventures bumming rides, seeing the country, scoring weed and drink, making it with real gone girls, and getting meaningless jobs along the way to further their desire to go farther, always farther. Only problem is, Sal and Dean are based on real boys. Oh sure, On the Road is called a fiction, but it is absolutely based on real occurrences and people, so much so that Kerouac had to be dissuaded by his publisher to print their real names. Sal is Kerouac himself and Dean is his friend Neal Cassady, an essentially motherless delinquent "raised" by an alcoholic and mostly absent father. Dean/Neal, a hyper lover of life, seemed to be a manic prophet, the words and ways of which Sal/Jack was happy to follow. So when these boys steal all manner of things (including cars) or shack up and knock up women only to inevitably leave them time and again for the road, one can't help but marvel at their unconscionable irresponsibility. It smacks heavily of nothing more that having fun at the expense of others. There's only so much hedonism you can take before you have to step back and ask, what's the point?

Kerouac's masterpiece breathes youth and vigor for the duration and created the American bohemian "beat" lifestyle which has been the subject of innumerable subsequent books, songs, and movies. I have read this at least two or three times and always feel a bit breathless and invigorated because of the restlessness of the text and the vibrance of the characters. There was an extraordinary exhibit at the Pompidou Center earlier this year where the original draft in Kerouac's handwriting was laid out end to end in a glass case. It was like seeing the original copy of Don Quixote in the royal palace in Madrid - very moving. In any case, there is no excuse not to read this wonderful high point of mid-20th century American literature.

Re-read and found both beauty and sadness in this work. The sadness stems from the sexism, racism, and homophobia expressed throughout the book. Sign of the times, I know, but it is still painful to see that these Beat visionaries - for all their open-mindedness towards other religions and sex and drugs - still expressed such backwards views and attitudes sometimes

As for the beauty, the story of Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty crossing the US again and again with a last trip down to Mexico City is epic.

"I pictured myself in a Denver bar that night, with all the gang, and in their eyes I would be strange and ragged and like the Prophet who has walked across the land to bring the dark Word, and the only Word I had was "Wow!" (P. 37)

I have driven from Florida to San Francisco by myself and back again when I was in college and felt that Kerouac captured the enthusiasm that the memory still evokes in me:

"I thought, and looked every, as I had looked everywhere in the little world below. And before me was the great raw bulge and bulk of my American continent" (P. 79)

The descriptions of bebop jazz are absolutely astounding throughout as they listen to Prez, Bird, Dizzy...
"The pianist was only pounding the keys with spread-eagled fingers, chords, or at intervals when the great tenorman was drawing breath for another blast--Chinese chords, shuddering the piano in every timber, chink, and wire, boing!" (P. 197)

The writing makes you feel the musics energy pulsating and driving - that is one of my favorite aspects of On the Road:

"Holy flowers floating in the air, were all these tired forms in the dawn of Jazz America." (P. 204)

Other moments are surreal and yet moments I have known many times:

"Just about that time a strange thing began to haunt me. It was this: I had forgotten something. There was a decision that I was about to make before Dean showed up, and now it was driven clear out of my mind but still hung on the tip of my mind's tongue." (P. 124)

Or the feeling of mystery:

"This was a manuscript of the night that we couldn't read." (P. 158) and those that do not share their trip on the road "they stand uncertainly underneath immense skies, and everything about them is drowned." (P. 167)

I perhaps just ignored it in my previous readings, but this time I was struck by the heroin references. Old Bill was off in the bathroom tying up and yet taking care of his kids (alarming!)

Perhaps the predominant mood and attitude of the book and Kerouac's view of the period is summarized on Sal's 3rd trip to San Francisco:

"I realized that I had died and been reborn numberless times but just didn't remember especially because the transitions from life to death and back to life are so ghostly easy, a magical action for naught, like falling asleep and waking up again a million times, the utter casualness and deep ignorance of it. I realized it was only because of the stability of the intrinsic Mind that these ripples of birth and death took place, like the action of wind on a sheet of pure, serene, mirror-like water. I felt a sweet, swinging bliss like a big shot of heroin in the mainline vein; like a gulp of wine late in the afternoon and it makes you shudder; my feet tingled." (P. 173)

Kerouac captured the spirit of the Beats who would later become the hippies of the 60's (but without the Vietnam War) in both its glory and its squalor. The book is both beautiful and uplifting and desperate and depressing. Regardless of how one reacts to it, it is truly one of the great works of the expression of the American spirit in the post-WWII period.

I made it through On the Road on my second attempt in order to prepare for a Literary Gladiators discussion. This second attempt required a push that included getting up early for the sake of finishing 86 pages in a few hours time, but I did it. It was not like it was a bad novel in any which way, but just an okay one at best. I was drawn into the Beats Movement through Allen Ginsberg, who I can also say I credit for being an all-out lover and enthusiast for reading literature, but specifically poetry and literary fiction. Jack Kerouac was not as enjoyable. The word that I feel seems to be used the most when it comes to Kerouac is "rambly" and I must say that I agree and when I mean "rambly," I mean talking about a lot without getting to the point.

As for the novel itself: we follow a first-person account of Sal Paradise from Paterson, New Jersey that idolizes Dean Moriarty and is looking to find an ideal way of life wherever it may be. Sal makes his way to Denver, but finds himself in so many places and so many situations throughout the text. Dean, on the other hand, is in and out of relationships (and some of these overlap with one another) and is accumulating plenty of children with more than just one woman. Being the sporadic novel that this is, Sal's adventures include getting and maintaining jobs, finding women, and just figuring out his place in the world at the age at which he is at. Outside of that, there is not much else to say about this work.

People have hailed this as the prose equivalent to Ginsberg's Howl and people can argue that is could take the mold of a "Great American Novel." I would argue that this novel is overrated. It did not have an area of concentration and while there are arguments where it did not need to have an area of concentration, it was just something that did not provide me with an opportunity to care for this work in any which way. I really did not like any of the characters in this text. I was not fond of Sal and his shallow outlook on life and, like many of others, I thought that Dean was a piece of garbage. Of course, there are arguments that can be made regarding why Dean is the way he is, but he brings the worst out of Sal and demonstrates a life of poor and harmful habits.

There are two instances where this book can be viewed in a redeeming life. First, this work can be viewed in a critical manner. There is a lot to think about when it comes to Sal's behavior being parallel to someone in their teens or early twenties that idolizes phonies and moves around until they find what they feel is the right opportunity and then lose satisfaction pretty quickly before moving again. Another redeeming factor is how everyone is based on someone in Kerouac's own life. Sal Paradise is based on Kerouac, while Dean Moriarty is based on Neal Cassady. Allen Ginsberg and William S. Burroughs even have people based off of them in Carlo Marx and Old Bull Lee, respectively. Many of the characters, though, are based on people that Kerouac knows, but the general public does not.

On the Road is only meant to be judged by its face value if it is taken in the context of being a Beats era work. It is not about a guy's journey west, for he obtains this pretty quickly. It is the adventures that take place afterward that really continue to drive this story. To me, reading this was more of a task than a delight or an experience.

You can find my Literary Gladiators discussion about this book (containing spoilers) here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wLcyh...

I read this book at the perfect time in my life, as though it had been written for me to read at that exact moment. It changed my ideas about traveling and really living life. It made me rethink my concept of what it means to be free. But most of all, it made me excited for all the adventures I had yet to experience.

Este livro é um marco da literatura, e com Howl de Allen Ginsberg e Naked Lunch de William Burroughs, considerado um dos livros essenciais da geração Beat. O movimento ou geração Beat , tendo origem na literatura, tornou-se um fenómeno cultural de grande influência, sendo considerado o embrião da geração hippie.

Retrato de uma geração desiludida com o estabelecido, com uma sociedade materialista e sem valores, os jovens que fazem parte desta história são os heróis do contra poder. O livro relata uma "road trip" louca, de vários amigos pelos Estados Unidos, numa viagem de descoberta e procura do prazer. Uma história de rebeldia e de hedonismo, recheada de aventuras e acção.

Dito isto, infelizmente a leitura deste livro foi para mim uma desilusão. Consigo compreender o seu valor literário e histórico, mas pessoalmente foi um livro que não me tocou. A leitura tornou-se até um pouco penosa.

Nunca um livro, tão repleto de acção, que apelidaria até de "frenético" no decorrer dos acontecimentos, captivou tão pouco o meu interesse. Não conseguí nutrir qualquer empatia ou afecto por nenhum personagem e a forma como o livro está escrito também não me agradou. O facto de o autor descrever situações reais trocando apenas o nome dos seus amigos para transformar a narrativa em ficção, assemelhou-me muito com o livro anterior que dele tinha lido. É como se "Orpheus Emerged" fosse uma espécie de exercício para este livro, nada tendo acrescentado à minha opinião sobre Jack Kerouac enquanto escritor.

Reflectindo sobre a minha falta de interesse pelos acontecimentos narrados e pela filosofia de vida que lhe está na base, penso que isso terá talvez a ver com a minhda idade . Lê-lo agora aos quarenta anos talvez lhe tenha amortizado um pouco o fascínio pela rebeldia narrada. Julgo que se talvez o tivesse lido na minha juventude, a minha opinião pudesse ser diferente. Agora, assemelho a liberdade a que estes rapazes dão asas, não a uma liberdade fundamentada, não a uma verdadeira contra corrente ou a um hedonismo saudável, mas àquela pseudo liberdade que se ambiciona aos 18 anos. Fez-me pensar assim os comportamentos auto destrutivos, o abuso das drogas e do álcool, uma liberdade que longe de ser inconsequente os leva num caminho autodestrutivo contrário ao hedonismo advocado.

Faço esta auto reflexão, uma vez que as opiniões são maioritáriamente favoráveis a este livro, o que me faz pensar que talvez alguma coisa me tenha escapado. Continuo no entanto curiosa pelos restantes livros considerados essenciais do movimento Beat e pelos seus autores. Gostaria também de ler qualquer coisa de Jack Kerouac num registo diferente que não o do relato baseado em acontecimentos reais, ou pelo menos que os seus amigos não figurassem como personagens, como aconteceu nas duas leituras que fiz até ao momento. Penso que só depois disso poderei formar uma opinião sobre o autor. Até agora, deixa-me muito a desejar este estilo adoptado.

Em resumo: clássico da "Beat Generation" de leitura "quase" obrigatória, mas que pessoalmente não me agradou.

Rarely has it been so difficult, even painful, to come to the end of a text of 400 pages! So let me explain: the version of On The Road by Jack Kerouac is that of the original roll (1951). This role, which did a lot for the legend of Kerouac, was written in just three weeks!
We omit to specify that Kerouac had been working on this novel for two or even three years and that it was in a mad frenzy (doped with coffee!) He wrote this roll in one go after gluing each sheet individually. Of paper to make a single strip, thus assimilating it to the mythical route of Route 66, the one that crosses the USA from east to west; continuous reading, without the shadow of a paragraph, is perhaps a parallel with the monotony of this route 66 but that its text is long, long.
I would only add that this clean text, rendered in a standard format, was published about five years later; the political and economic context of the USA was different then. And the crazy American youth who discovered it then found there may have been different aspirations—those of Kerouac when he was writing this novel.
Kerouac lives alone in New York with his mother after his father died in the story. Disembarks Neal Cassidy, a young thug but irresistible in his appetite to live, I would even say consume his life from all ends. Always with a woman, two or even three, he randomly consumes alcohol, marijuana, and benzedrine sex and moves without stopping !! He will be the black angel of Kerouac, weaving with him during their crazy hikes, with bonds so strong that we can make them believe they are indissoluble.
So in the car, go for a ride, walk, sniff, drink, fuck, in the order you want, separately or simultaneously!
Here we are in Paris with these knocking-off things, little or no adventures, but the road, pubs, drugs, girls, and the text becomes MAGICAL music, jazz, and bebop. But, just for these few pages, the detour is worth it.
So, it was tedious reading. I did not go into Kerouac's speech old-fashioned, but I assume it. Do we have to come to these great states of disrepair to appreciate life? It isn't my conception, the question of age and period. Indeed, I ask myself to say that the text would have aged a little.

HIGHWAY 66 REVISITED


Jack Kerouac=John Heard, Neal Cassady=Nick Nolte, Carolyn Cassady=Sissy Spacek. Il film è del 1980, diretto da John Byrum e si chiama “Heart Beat”.

Letto da adolescente conteneva la voglia di movimento e cambiamento che era in me. La rabbia e la ribellione. La gioventù e l’amore.
Parlava la mia lingua, parlava a me direttamente. Era quello che avrei voluto sentir dire ai miei amici, e quello che avrei voluto dire ai miei amici.
Fu uno shock. Un trauma molto bello e piacevole.

-Dobbiamo andare e non fermarci finché non siamo arrivati.
-Dove andiamo?
-Non lo so, ma dobbiamo andare.



Fu vera gloria?
Non lo so. Allora, in quegli anni, subito dopo questo ne feci seguire un altro paio di Kerouac – ricordo Big Sur perché ero affascinato dal nome e dal luogo. Mai ritrovata la stessa voce, la stessa musica.
Negli anni a seguire ho incontrato tante voci che di Kerouac si facevano beffe: un personaggio, più che uno scrittore, dicevano.
Non lo so. Mi tengo l’amore per questo libro e per ciò che per me ha rappresentato: il battito del cuore. Heart Beat.


”On the Road” di Walter Salles, 2012. Dove Sal Paradise/Jack Kerouac è Sam Riley, Dean Moriarty/Neal Cassady è Garrett Hedlund, e Kristen Stewart interpreta Marylou.

I listened to the audiobook of this as I had tried to read a physical copy but never managed to get very far at all.

Overall it just felt a little pointless..
I probably would have appreciated it a bit more if the on the road journey was more linear. Instead it was very back and forth and I lost interest.

There was some really nice writing but not enough considering the length of the novel

‘I wished I was on the same bus as her. A pain stabbed my heart as it did everytime I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world of ours’

”I think Marylou was very, very wise leaving you, Dean,” said Galatea. “For years now you haven’t had any sense of responsibility for anyone. You’ve done so many awful things I don’t know what to say to you.”

And in fact that was the point, and they all sat around looking at Dean with lowered and hating eyes, and he stood on the carpet in the middle of them and giggled – he just giggled. He made a little dance. I suddenly realised that Dean, by virtue of his enormous series of sins, was becoming the Idiot, the Imbecile, the Saint of the lot.

“You have absolutely no regard for anybody but yourself and your damned kicks. All you think about is what’s hanging between your legs and how much money or fun you can get out of people and then you just throw them aside. Not only that but you’re silly about it. It never occurs to you that life is serious and there are people trying to make something decent out of it instead of just goofing all the time.”

That’s what Dean was, the HOLY GOOF.

Sorry I feel a bit embarrassed, in some ways, but okay with my decision to DNF. I know this is a classic but.....I had no connection to the people, absolutely none, nor the places. I know it's a special book....but this one isn't for me. A bunch of hoons running around America.

এই বইটা আমার জীবনে একটা বিশাল পরিবর্তন এনেছে। পড়ার পর বুঝতে পেরেছি ঠিক কোন ধরনের মানুষের প্রতি আমি আকৃষ্ট হই, তা বন্ধুত্বের জন্য হোক বা প্রেমের জন্য। সে ধরনের মানুষের নিখুঁত বর্ণনা কেরুয়্যাক দিয়েছেন এভাবে:

"...the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..."