Uneven collection. "Howl" is good, while the rest is crap.

n  When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?n

On my recent trip to San Francisco I was obliged to buy a copy of this book from the City Lights bookstore. Well, that isn’t the whole story. I visited the store without knowing anything of its history, left with a copy of Galileo’s Sidereus Nuncius, and then shamefacedly returned to pick up this book when my mother informed me, five minutes later, that it is famous for the “Howl” trial. I had heard recordings of Ginsberg reciting “Howl” many times, but I had never actually owned a copy of this poem. Now, thanks to the timely intervention of my mom, I am bona fide hip.

Like so many obscene books of bygone ages, “Howl” seems remarkably tame nowadays, and it is hard to believe any institution would go through the bother of banning and confiscating it. As in so many other cases of censorship, the attempt to suppress the work backfired, helping to turn poem and poet into icons. In our present, enlightened age, we have realized that, when anything can be published, nothing can be shocking or subversive; so oversaturation accomplishes in a stroke what censorship failed to accomplish in generations. But I am getting rather off the track of this book review.

It is difficult to evaluate “Howl,” since everything innovative about it has been thoroughly absorbed into the culture: obscenity, drugs, jazz, eastern mantras, free-form poems that follow the breath, and so on. Ginsberg’s voice is still with us; and you can hear it for yourself if you go to the right college campus—to pick just one example, New Paltz, in upstate New York, has many psychedelic, socially conscious, very enlightened free-form poets. This is not to say that this poem is no longer enjoyable, only that its appeal is more as a fossil than as a revelation now.

But it is a delightful fossil. For with Ginsberg’s “Howl” I hear the first grumblings of a new phenomenon in society: a group of disaffected youths becoming self-aware as a loose movement—as a counter-culture. Now, there have always been disaffected people who have turned to alcohol, drugs, sex, foreign faiths, and in general that peculiar mix of mysticism and hedonism that gives solace to those who feel they do not have a place in their own society. Yet it was not until the Beats, I believe, that this now quintessential experience was turned into art that defined a whole generation. The irony, of course, is that as soon as a counter-culture becomes faddish, its harmless aspects are absorbed into society, and its radical aspects swept to the side, until the revolt loses its teeth.

In both Ginsberg’s “Howl” and Kerouac’s On the Road I see young men, profoundly disenchanted and disconnected with their world, deeply disgusted with the values of their society, but without much to offer in the way of replacement. Instead they wander “starving hysterical naked” across the country, in search of some sort of epiphany that will clarify their predicament—an elusive truth, to be pursued on highways, in bedrooms, and in the altered states of the mind. Yet until they reach this truth, all they have to offer in opposition to “Moloch” is hedonism—which is exactly the same dilemma unsuccessfully faced by Babbitt.

Needless to say I do not find either alternative convincing, but that does not mean I cannot enjoy Ginsberg’s poems. Now, I do think the book format does not do Ginsberg justice, since the lines are organized by his breath and demand to be read, preferably by him. I will always remember laying awake in my bed in high school, listening to Ginsberg reciting “Howl” and “America,” and feeling strange stirrings of literary rebellion that I could not hope to articulate. A literary triumph, perhaps not, but an essential landmark on the country’s and my own maturity.

Nothing like a bit of controversy to keep the establishment ticking over, and in "Howl" it's easy to see why as this was seen as a shocking and powerful piece of obscenity in the eyes of some, but for many more it's viewed as a celebrated manifesto of great importance for the beat Generation of the 1950s that helped to stick a big fat middle finger up to sexual repression and capitalism. This is a vital collection of Ginsberg's work that will always stand the test of time.

"The weight of the world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of dissatisfaction

the weight,
the weight we carry
is love."

"My mind is made up there's going to be trouble."

A strange mix of the beautiful, funny, and uncomfortable bawdiness. Maybe I only like it when female authors or characters are uncouth though? I enjoyed "America" more than "Howl." Feels ahead of its time.

Howl was a quick read which I can appreciate as not everyone was happy with what was happening in the world— the expectations of society. Ginsberg and others that were a part of the Beat Movement had their say through literature, poem, and their life choices.

Wiki just taught me this:

The poem's ending is also highly optimistic, a promise to put his "queer shoulder to the wheel," although the original draft ended on a bleaker note: "Dark America! toward whom I close my eyes for prophecy, / and bend my speaking heart! / Betrayed! Betrayed!"


Which only makes me more excited about my long-ago decision to get "america I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel" inked on myself (today!). it's strangely reassuring to know that even in the middle of that disciplined rage there was desperate despair, too. i first had the idea to make it into a tattoo a little after the 2004 elections, when i felt torn between, you know, "I'm sick of your insane demands" and "I've given you all and now I'm nothing" and yet filled with resolve and respect for Ginsberg, for being a crazy queer in another time and never even trying not to say so. i wanted to honor that radical beatnik perspective, pre-Stonewall, pre-gay, back when we were still/already queer.

our copy of this is actually MIA, last seen in shoemoney haus I, but i did buy it at City Lights bookstore before i moved to SF, so probably 1999 or 2000. can't remember when i first read it, but somewhere around here i also have an audio recording and i remember at one point Ray put this, or maybe one of the other poems from Howl, on a mix tape for me at the very end.

I'd heard this incendiary and iconic poem read before and seen the films on Ginsberg, Kerouac and the Beat Generation but I felt compelled to read this seminal piece of American Poetry for myself. The poems decrescendo from the titular work into more straight-forward poems before a final section of Ginsberg's earlier work. This structure actually worked quite well for me as a reader. It allowed for an explosive entry point that relaxed into a more accessible and comprehensive overview of Ginsberg as a writer.

Howl itself is the poet's love letter to his generation as he sees it. He includes every imaginable facet of his peerage with both a reverent warmth and a disdainful sneer. His summation of his neighbors in humanity is sometimes generous and romantic while also casting a sardonic criticism. All of this is tinged with a longing and despondency that could be attributed to many generations that came both before and since.

The later work is more ambitious and inflammatory but I enjoyed its boldness and fluidity. Ginsberg's word choice and aesthetic are bemusingly intact throughout the book. The final portion that included his earlier work was illuminating and fascinating in context with the more famous poems and it clearly illustrated his development as a writer. The older pieces were more traditional in tone and structure and far more tame and restrained in their content. I surprisingly enjoyed both sections for opposing reasons.

Overall, this book serves as a brief but surprisingly broad introduction to a highly influential and controversial American poet and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Ginsberg was a transgressive artist who brazenly embraced his own queerness and marxism. His work is undeniably beautiful while also retaining an unvarnished authenticity that is engrossing and affecting. These poems will undoubtedly ignite some sort of emotional reaction from the reader (whether good or bad) and that speaks to both their strength and their efficacy. From ruminations on sunflowers growing in the city to grocery shopping with Walt Whitman, Ginsberg takes the reader on an indelible, unique and provocative journey through the creative mind of a cultural icon.

It took awhile for me to finally determine where exactly Allan Ginsberg sits in my book reviewer rating scale.

Truth is, I was lured in by all the hoopla this collection received in 1956 when it was seized by U.S customs. It's just not easy for me to review poetry.


Do I understand why AG set the world on fire in 56? Totally!


Was it the type of writing that made me HOWL ? Mmmm ..maybe more like a whimper?

Goodreads Review 24/06/19

To give you an idea of where I'm coming from, let me give a quick background summary. Who was Allen Ginsberg? Well, Allen Ginsberg was a homosexual communist Jew. As if that is not chilling enough, Ginsberg was an avid supporter of NAMBLA (the North American man boy love dissociation), dabbled in recreational drugs, and frequented the New York gay nightclub scene. In other words, this guy has got to be about the most degenerate piece of filth I have ever had the misfortune of reading, and my god not even a torturer would be cruel enough to make someone sit down and read this. How bad can it be, surely i'm just being melodramatic - yes? Well, no. When I read about how, on his mother's deathbed, Ginsberg fantasized about what it would be like to have sex with his mom, essentially a bed-stricken lifeless corpse, a cold chill ran down my spine.
Perhaps the most astonishing thing about Ginsberg is how he actually managed to get a national book award. I think that really illuminates the problem with the literary community. This man's mind was a sewer, and his works reflect that, yet he is paraded around on a pedestal for all to see. Hence, Howl is a work who's purpose is multidimensional. On the one hand we see the absolute depths of degeneracy a mind can sink to, while on the other hand we see the literary communities tolerance of that.
To conclude, this book is not well-written, and the only profound thing about it is how astonishingly perverted it is. I would not recommend this book to anyone, unless one wants to use it to demonstrate why living the kind of lifestyle Allen Ginsberg did will rot your soul.
Round all copies of this thing up and consign them to the flames. Forever.
0/5

I had goosebumps while reading Howl. It's like nothing I have ever read!

2.5