Big Sur is one of my favorite places on earth, but Kerouac's story almost tries to chip away at the beauty of this place. Yes, this book was written decades ago, but the sexist ramblings of an alcoholic stumbling his way between the Bay Area and beautiful Big Sur is a story not worth telling.

Less frenetic, less joyful, and heavier than On the Road. Kerouac looks out at the sea at Big Sur and finds himself not overwhelmed by the beauty of the view but by his insignificance when confronted with a vast expanse of nothingness. His overtone of despair was difficult to read, but because it was conveyed by an animated stream-of-consciousness, the melancholy and the madness was unexpectedly very engaging.

I did not think I would like Jack Kerouac after having been away from him for so long -- oh, say, half a century. But then I read David Halberstam's The Fifties; and I thought I was missing something in my knowledge of that time, a time which I lived through only comprehending a small part of what I saw.

Big Sur is like a triptych consisting of three trips that Jack takes, alone or with friends, to the Raton Canyon cabin of Lorenzo Monsanto (whom I think is none other than Lawrence Ferlinghetti, poet and founder of City Lights Bookstore in San Francisco).

At first, Jack is there alone for several weeks. It is a happy time, during which he writes an onomatopoeic poem called "Sea: Sounds of the Pacific Ocean at Big Sur," which is included at the end of the book. A second trip is with a group of friends. Things are not too bad as yet.

But then Jack takes up with Willamine (Billie), who has a disturbed son named Elliott from a previous marriage. It is as if his friend Cody Pomeray were passing her off to Jack, and things start going bad quickly. Rather than face his feelings head on, Jack hits the bottle in a big way. He goes with Billie and Elliott, and another couple, to the cabin at Raton Canyon where he appears to have delirium tremens.

When they finally return to the bay, Jack fantasizes:

I'll get my ticket and say goodbye on a flower day and leave all San Francisco and it'll all be like it was in the beginning -- Simple golden eternity blessing all -- Nothing ever happened -- Not even this -- St. Carolyn's by the Sea will go on being golden one way or the other -- The little boy [Elliott] will grow up and be a great man -- There'll be farewells and smiles -- My mother'll be waiting for me glad -- The corner of the yard where Tyke [Jack's pet cat] is buried will be like somehow -- On soft Spring nights I'll stand in the yard under the stars -- Something good will come out of all things yet -- And it will be golden and eternal like that -- There's no need to say another word.

Alas, Jack's manic mantra leads to him continuing to drink heavily. He died of cirrhosis at the age of forty-seven.

Окей, це було несподівано.) Перше моя зустріч з творчістю Керуака і не скажу, що дуже вдала.

Я трохи чув про Керуака, як "Короля бітників" і мав доволі поверхневе уявлення про те, що це потенційно може бути. Позатим було цікаво спробувати, оскільки і сам рух бітників, і Керуак зокрема, епізодично виринали в моєму інфопросторі і то зазвичай в досить позитивному ключі.

То ж, що я очікував: своєрідно написаного, наративного роману, симпатизуючого культурі свободи на кшталт тих самих "бітників" чи "хіппі", з купою тусачів, поїздок, якихось течій буддистської філософії, покладених на растаманський спосіб життя, пошуків сенсу, подорожей, бухла, сексу і неодмінно слідуючої за цим всім драми. Коротше кажучи, веселого розпіздяйського життя з невеличкою драмою наприкінці (бо як інакше).

І частину з цього я таки отримав: наратив в форматі потоку свідомості, легкі відсилки до буддизму, бухло (дуже багато), подорожі, купа знайомих, дурних вчинків і розмов, зрештою секс. Доречі, секс тут постійно якийсь драматично-сумний, що теж трохи дивує, хоча й загалом лягає в загальний настрій Біґ-Суру.

Але нмд це не основа роману, основа - божевоління Джека, його нездатність протистояти алкоголю, якесь безсиле роздратування постійною оточуючої метушнею, яка неодмінно слідує за відомим письменником-бітником, і знов божевоління, повільне, але впевнене сповзання в марення, які наприкінці вже практично не припиняються. Кризовості ситуації додає те, що майже вся його тусовка настільки вже відірвана від реальності, що може цілком на рівні комунікувати з людиною в напівбожевільному стані і майже не відчувати дискомфорту, то ж Джек, фактично, осаждається абсурдом як зсередини, так і ззовні. Чомусь я думав це буде роман симпатії до бітників, натомість радше навпаки - роздратування від всієї цієї безглуздої вбуханої божевільної метушні прописано тут практично прямим текстом.

І в той же час дивина - читалося це досить легко і швидко. Подекуди стани Джека добряче перегукувались зі станами Ван Гога, описані в "Жага до життя" Ірвінга Стоуна. Можливо не найприємніше чтиво, але добре написане і таке, що проковтується доволі швидко.

То ж, так досі і не розумію як до неї ставитись і що це було. Чи Керуак справді пройшов через все це в Біґ-Сурі чи це лише вигадка (але щось надто вже реалістична, чи не так)? І що він хотів цим сказати, показати свою втому і безсилля перед богемним способом життя, який впав йому на голову після "В дорозі" чи щось інше? Може це взагалі позитивний твір про свободу а я просто не сприйняв основні меседжі?.. Питань багато, відповідей поки мало.

Але пише він, як на мій смак, непогано, то ж думаю "В дорозі" ще обов'язково прочитаю. Такі-то справи.

I am rereading Big Sur again ,it is about Kerouac`s trip out west to see his Californian friends in San Francisco and stay at a cabin at Big Sur.He was supposed to be staying there alone as a retreat but as soon as people got wind of his visit they all arrived and the mad party began.Sleeping wherever they could fit or on the beach or by the creek,bonfires and drinking and wild discussions and poetry . I forgot how very wild this book is but at this point in his life alcoholism is taking over and there is a terrible few pages of severe hang over that leaves him lying in the sand in pain and in confusion. So very sad he did not live past 47 and keep writing these mad journeys full of adventure and great love for his friends.

Acho curioso que a completa crise emocional pela qual Kerouac passa nesse livro seja retratada de forma tão organizada e fácil de acompanhar, pelo menos pros moldes dele. O famoso fluxo de consciência que o fez famoso - e que tem seu ápice nos delírios espirituais de Os Vagabundos Iluminados - só aparece no final, quando realmente você só consegue pensar que ele vai enlouquecer de vez.

Um livro triste e sentido, ainda que não atinja a perfeição melancólica de Tristessa.

OBS: confesso que não tive paciência pra sequer ler o poema sobre os barulhos do mar.

Not his best, but packed full of that distinctive Kerouac drama, nonetheless.

I really wanted to give it two stars out of some residual reverence for Kerouac I still have. But no. Just no. This is, to me, Kerouac at his worst; his novels usually are much more plot- and character-driven, and this book demonstrates how crucial these two things are to his prose. In Big Sur, he turns his mirror on himself, and boy, what a woeful spectacle this is. Ignore for your own good, unless you are a relentless completist.

I really enjoyed large portions of the book. As always, Kerouac is an earnest, philosophical, adventurous thinker and seeker. His language is rich, inventive, and often poetic. I love his attention to existential questions and his ability to draw on such much of the American, European, and sometimes world literary tradition in his quest for self-understanding and meaning. The book is also a nice update on Walden. The book does become a little unfocused or repetitive at the end, and the poetic merits of the concluding poem are at least debatable. Still, Kerouac’s literary genius and genius for living are evident throughout the relatively short text.

Read the majority of this one while camping in Big Sur. Certainly an inflated opinion of Kerouac's spiraling account of insanity and alcoholism. But it's well warranted any time you get to run, hike, and sleep in the same spots as a beat writer like this. Many of Kerouac's takes on restaurants, roads, and nature-descriptions remain the same from my view of it.

Rich guy makes everything about himself and whines for 160 pages, and writes a meh poem.

Nel 1959 i libri di Kerouac escono uno dietro l’altro, ma vengono sempre demoliti e ridicolizzati dai critici, ossessionati dal personaggio dello scrittore “ribelle”. Dopo l’uscita di On the road Jack è diventato una celebrità, ma il suo equilibrio psicologico è già molto precario e le critiche continue hanno effetti devastanti sulla sua persona.
All’età di 37 anni torna a vivere con la madre e affoga ogni dispiacere in litri e litri di alcol.

Nel 1960 Ferlinghetti gli offre l’uso di una sua cabina isolata e priva di servizi a Big Sur, nel Bixby Canyon. La solitudine sembra portargli beneficio, ma solo per qualche settimana, perché poi verrà assalito da visioni deliranti. Inizia così il suo vero declino, narrato in “Big Sur” attraverso l’alter ego Jack Duluoz.

«“Jack Duluoz ha ventisei anni e non fa che viaggiare con l'autostop", mentre eccomi qui quasi quarantenne, tediato e logoro sulla cuccetta di uno scompartimento riservato che corre rombando attraverso Salt Flat.”»

Tra tutti i libri che ho letto di Kerouac, questo rappresenta sicuramente il suo lavoro più emotivo, onesto e grezzo. Gli sbalzi d’umore, la bellezza e il terrore della natura sono una costante di questa dettagliata e cruda esperienza di lettura. 
É impossibile non lasciarsi trasportare nello stesso luogo mentale in cui si trova l’autore, tra pensieri improvvisamente lucidi opposti ad attimi di confusione e smarrimento, come se potessimo entrare nella mente patinata di un alc0lizzat0.
Kerouac è circondato da amici e da persone che vogliono esprimersi su di lui e sul suo modo di scrivere, eppure è profondamente solo.

Non consiglierei questo libro come primo approccio, anzi, mi conferma ancora una volta di essere un autore per pochi: per chi ha voglia di conoscere o conosce già il contesto storico e la Beat Generation, per chi non si scandalizza con temi e argomenti pruriginosi, per chi trova bella una scrittura spontanea ed emotiva, capace di costruire immagini concrete attraverso le parole.