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Road Novels 1957–1960: On the Road / The Dharma Bums / The Subterraneans / Tristessa / Lonesome Traveler / Journal Selections
The raucous, exuberant, often wildly funny account of a journey through America and Mexico, Jack Kerouac’s On the Road instantly defined a generation on its publication in 1957: it was, in the words of a New York Times reviewer, “the clearest and most important utterance yet made by the generation Kerouac himself named years ago as ‘beat.’” Written in the mode of ecstatic improvisation that Allen Ginsberg described as “spontaneous bop prosody,” Kerouac’s novel remains electrifying in its thirst for experience and its defiant rebuke of American conformity.
In his portrayal of the fervent relationship between the writer Sal Paradise and his outrageous, exasperating, and inimitable friend Dean Moriarty, Kerouac created one of the great friendships in American literature; and his rendering of the cities and highways and wildernesses that his characters restlessly explore are a hallucinatory travelogue of a nation he both mourns and celebrates. Now, The Library of America collects On the Road together with four other autobiographical “road books” published during a remarkable four-year period.
The Dharma Bums (1958), at once an exploration of Buddhist spirituality and an account of the Bay Area poetry scene, is notable for its thinly veiled portraits of Kerouac’s acquaintances, including Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, and Kenneth Rexroth. The Subterraneans (1958) recounts a love affair set amid the bars and bohemian haunts of San Francisco. Tristessa (1960) is a melancholy novella describing a relationship with a prostitute in Mexico City. Lonesome Traveler (1960) collects travel essays that evoke journeys in Mexico and Europe, and concludes with an elegiac lament for the lost world of the American hobo. Also included in Road Novels are selections from Kerouac’s journal, which provide a fascinating perspective on his early impressions of material eventually incorporated into On the Road.
In his portrayal of the fervent relationship between the writer Sal Paradise and his outrageous, exasperating, and inimitable friend Dean Moriarty, Kerouac created one of the great friendships in American literature; and his rendering of the cities and highways and wildernesses that his characters restlessly explore are a hallucinatory travelogue of a nation he both mourns and celebrates. Now, The Library of America collects On the Road together with four other autobiographical “road books” published during a remarkable four-year period.
The Dharma Bums (1958), at once an exploration of Buddhist spirituality and an account of the Bay Area poetry scene, is notable for its thinly veiled portraits of Kerouac’s acquaintances, including Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, and Kenneth Rexroth. The Subterraneans (1958) recounts a love affair set amid the bars and bohemian haunts of San Francisco. Tristessa (1960) is a melancholy novella describing a relationship with a prostitute in Mexico City. Lonesome Traveler (1960) collects travel essays that evoke journeys in Mexico and Europe, and concludes with an elegiac lament for the lost world of the American hobo. Also included in Road Novels are selections from Kerouac’s journal, which provide a fascinating perspective on his early impressions of material eventually incorporated into On the Road.
864 pages, Hardcover
First published September 1, 2007
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506 people want to read
About the author
Jack Kerouac
359 books11.5k followersJean-Louis Lebris de Kérouac, known as Jack Kerouac, was an American novelist and poet who, alongside William S. Burroughs and Allen Ginsberg, was a pioneer of the Beat Generation.
Of French-Canadian ancestry, Kerouac was raised in a French-speaking home in Lowell, Massachusetts. He "learned English at age six and spoke with a marked accent into his late teens." During World War II, he served in the United States Merchant Marine; he completed his first novel at the time, which was published more than 40 years after his death. His first published book was The Town and the City (1950), and he achieved widespread fame and notoriety with his second, On the Road, in 1957. It made him a beat icon, and he went on to publish 12 more novels and numerous poetry volumes.
Kerouac is recognized for his style of stream of consciousness spontaneous prose. Thematically, his work covers topics such as his Catholic spirituality, jazz, travel, promiscuity, life in New York City, Buddhism, drugs, and poverty. He became an underground celebrity and, with other Beats, a progenitor of the hippie movement, although he remained antagonistic toward some of its politically radical elements. He has a lasting legacy, greatly influencing many of the cultural icons of the 1960s, including Bob Dylan, The Beatles, Jerry Garcia and The Doors.
In 1969, at the age of 47, Kerouac died from an abdominal hemorrhage caused by a lifetime of heavy drinking. Since then, his literary prestige has grown, and several previously unseen works have been published.
Of French-Canadian ancestry, Kerouac was raised in a French-speaking home in Lowell, Massachusetts. He "learned English at age six and spoke with a marked accent into his late teens." During World War II, he served in the United States Merchant Marine; he completed his first novel at the time, which was published more than 40 years after his death. His first published book was The Town and the City (1950), and he achieved widespread fame and notoriety with his second, On the Road, in 1957. It made him a beat icon, and he went on to publish 12 more novels and numerous poetry volumes.
Kerouac is recognized for his style of stream of consciousness spontaneous prose. Thematically, his work covers topics such as his Catholic spirituality, jazz, travel, promiscuity, life in New York City, Buddhism, drugs, and poverty. He became an underground celebrity and, with other Beats, a progenitor of the hippie movement, although he remained antagonistic toward some of its politically radical elements. He has a lasting legacy, greatly influencing many of the cultural icons of the 1960s, including Bob Dylan, The Beatles, Jerry Garcia and The Doors.
In 1969, at the age of 47, Kerouac died from an abdominal hemorrhage caused by a lifetime of heavy drinking. Since then, his literary prestige has grown, and several previously unseen works have been published.
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September 7, 2020
This review is NOT of the entire book, but only On the Road. Previously I had read The Dharma Bums and Big Sur, 3-starring both, but really, they both look pretty good compared to this, his most famous book.
This was a struggle every step of the way. If this is the book he hangs his hat on and people still read, I don't get it. Truly the material seems dated. And the bromance fascination with Dean Moriarity (actually Neal Cassady) is beyond me. It doesn't translate on the page. To the reader, he's a 2-dimensional bore. And the way the women are described. Yikes. Get your stereos out and start typing. Sal (a.k.a. Jack) seems more fascinated with Dean than any of the gals, at least if we're to compare descriptions throughout the book.
So I'm done with my more in-depth look at Kerouac. I most enjoyed his letters to Ginsberg, a nonfiction book. I like Jack's fascination with Buddhism, most prominent in Dharma Bums (based on his friendship with Gary Snyder), but the whole Beat thing comes across as laughable in Road. Inspired? By THIS?
Ah, well. Maybe if I read it as a teenager....
This was a struggle every step of the way. If this is the book he hangs his hat on and people still read, I don't get it. Truly the material seems dated. And the bromance fascination with Dean Moriarity (actually Neal Cassady) is beyond me. It doesn't translate on the page. To the reader, he's a 2-dimensional bore. And the way the women are described. Yikes. Get your stereos out and start typing. Sal (a.k.a. Jack) seems more fascinated with Dean than any of the gals, at least if we're to compare descriptions throughout the book.
So I'm done with my more in-depth look at Kerouac. I most enjoyed his letters to Ginsberg, a nonfiction book. I like Jack's fascination with Buddhism, most prominent in Dharma Bums (based on his friendship with Gary Snyder), but the whole Beat thing comes across as laughable in Road. Inspired? By THIS?
Ah, well. Maybe if I read it as a teenager....
March 12, 2023
Jack Kerouac In The Library Of America -- 1
September 5, 2007 marked the 50th anniversary of the publication of Jack Kerouac's (1922 -- 1969) most famous novel, "On the Road". The Library of America aptly commemorated the event with its volume of Kerouac's "Road Novels" -- the first of four collections in the LOA of Kerouac's writings. The works in this collection were published between 1957 -- 1960, although most of them were written considerably earlier. This volume includes four Kerouac novels, a collection of essays called "Lonesome Traveler", and selections from Kerouac's journals. This volume offers the opportunity for readers to revisit and reassess Kerouac and for new readers to get to know his work. Kerouac amply deserves to be included in the Library of America series which is devoted to honoring the best of American literary achievement.
Kerouac, for all his personal failings and his difficulties with alcoholism and substance abuse, had a better understanding of what his work was about than did some of his critics. In his introduction to "Lonesome Traveler", Kerouac wrote: "Always considered writing my duty on earth. Also the preachment of universal kindness, which hysterical critics have failed to notice beneath frenetic activity of my true-story novels about the 'beat' generation. -- Am actually not 'beat' but strange solitary crazy Catholic mystic."
Kerouac's novels are autobiographical in character. His works lack artistic distance, but they more than compensate for this lack with their immediacy and sense of honesty. They describe a complex and torn individual whose life had been riddled with failure but who was driven to succeed as a writer. Part of Kerouac rejected mainstream American conformity and materialism in favor of a bohemian life of spontanaiety, sex, and wild experience. Yet Kerouac's deepest ambition was to be a successful writer and to enjoy a stable quiet life. Kerouac's work sometimes seems to show a spirit of hedonism and sensuality; but he was greatly influenced by Buddhism and wrote extensively about it; and all his work shows a religious and introspective sensibility. I think Kerouac properly described himself as a writer as a "solitary Catholic mystic".
Kerouac developed a style of writing that he described as "spontaneous prose", and it is amply on display in this volume. It features long, stringy sentences and paragraphs with the feel of jazz and of improvisation. Kerouac's "spontaneous prose" is an erratic technique, which works brilliantly at its best but which can sometimes deteriorate into mere wordsmithing. ("That's not writing -- its typing!" as Truman Capote scornfully, and unfairly, said of "The Subterraneans".) Kerouac was a descriptive writer who could spend pages on detailed portrayals of places and people -- as in the scenes of mountain climbing in "The Dharma Bums" and in the description of Tristessa's living quarters in the novel of that name. His writings, particularly "On the Road" and "Lonesome Traveler" show a deep love of the places, landscapes, and character of the United States. Kerouac was the child of immigrants, and maintained a high and self-conscious spirit of patriotism throughout his life.
In rereading the Kerouac in this volume, I found that "On the Road" remains his most impressive work and a book that should keep Kerouac's place in American literature. The book tells the story of Kerouac's friendship with Neal Cassady (Dean Moriarty in the book), a young man who had spent much of his life in poolhalls, reform school, and prison. The book has a restless energy, and a spirit of passion as Kerouac (Sal Paradise in the book) and Moriarty ride back and forth across the United States and Mexico. "On the Road" leaves tantalizingly ambiguous the nature of the characters' wanderings. Are they looking simply for "kicks" and for sex, or does their search have a spiritual dimension as well? Similarly, Kerouac leaves ambiguous his attitude towards Moriarty and his rootless, wild way of life. For all the attraction Moriarty/Cassady held for Kerouac, "On the Road" can be read as a critique of his wildness and as a search for a life that is full and rich, but also settled.
The remaining works in this collection each have their admirers, and they are all worth reading. My favorite is the short novel "Tristessa" which, in difficult, jagged prose tells the story of Kerouac's relationship with a Mexican prostitute and drug addict during two trips to Mexico City. It includes long passages of detailed descriptions of rooms and streets, reflections on Buddhism, religion, and sex, and a sad but ultimately hopeful story. "The Subterraneans" also tells of a failed romance between Kerouac and a young black woman, Mardou. The book is set in San Francisco (the relationship on which it is based took place in New York City) and it features descriptions of bohemian life in San Francisco, and an astonishing passage related by Mardou in which she finds herself wandering naked over the streets of San Francisco.
"The Dharma Bums" differs from the other books in this collection in that Kerouac wrote it on commission from his publisher after the success of "On the Road." It is written in a much more accessible, popular style than either "Tristessa" or "The Subterraneans" and might be the best book after "On the Road" for the reader new to Kerouac. This book tells of the friendship between Kerouac and the poet Gary Snyder, as they climb mountains, discuss Buddhism, wander cross-country, and have wild parties. Some readers who like Kerouac's other books find "The Dharma Bums" rather tame. I find the book highly thoughtful, in its portrayal of Snyder and Kerouac, in its picture of American Buddhism in the 1950s, and in its depiction of California.
"Lonesome Traveler" is the one work in this collection that was new to me. It is a series of eight travel essays, including an essay on "The Vanishing American Hobo", some of which had been published separately. Kerouac writes that "its scope and purpose is simply poetry, or natural description". Many of these essays cover places and events that Kerouac describes in his novels, but they have a force and continuity of their own in their portrayal of rooming houses in San Francisco, pierfront dives, and work on the railroad. The best part of this book is "New York Scenes", an unforgettable portrait of "beat" places in New York City.
Kerouac's work remains to be discovered, savored and pondered by a new generation of readers. The Library of America deserves high praise for making his works accessible in this wonderful volume.
Robin Friedman
September 5, 2007 marked the 50th anniversary of the publication of Jack Kerouac's (1922 -- 1969) most famous novel, "On the Road". The Library of America aptly commemorated the event with its volume of Kerouac's "Road Novels" -- the first of four collections in the LOA of Kerouac's writings. The works in this collection were published between 1957 -- 1960, although most of them were written considerably earlier. This volume includes four Kerouac novels, a collection of essays called "Lonesome Traveler", and selections from Kerouac's journals. This volume offers the opportunity for readers to revisit and reassess Kerouac and for new readers to get to know his work. Kerouac amply deserves to be included in the Library of America series which is devoted to honoring the best of American literary achievement.
Kerouac, for all his personal failings and his difficulties with alcoholism and substance abuse, had a better understanding of what his work was about than did some of his critics. In his introduction to "Lonesome Traveler", Kerouac wrote: "Always considered writing my duty on earth. Also the preachment of universal kindness, which hysterical critics have failed to notice beneath frenetic activity of my true-story novels about the 'beat' generation. -- Am actually not 'beat' but strange solitary crazy Catholic mystic."
Kerouac's novels are autobiographical in character. His works lack artistic distance, but they more than compensate for this lack with their immediacy and sense of honesty. They describe a complex and torn individual whose life had been riddled with failure but who was driven to succeed as a writer. Part of Kerouac rejected mainstream American conformity and materialism in favor of a bohemian life of spontanaiety, sex, and wild experience. Yet Kerouac's deepest ambition was to be a successful writer and to enjoy a stable quiet life. Kerouac's work sometimes seems to show a spirit of hedonism and sensuality; but he was greatly influenced by Buddhism and wrote extensively about it; and all his work shows a religious and introspective sensibility. I think Kerouac properly described himself as a writer as a "solitary Catholic mystic".
Kerouac developed a style of writing that he described as "spontaneous prose", and it is amply on display in this volume. It features long, stringy sentences and paragraphs with the feel of jazz and of improvisation. Kerouac's "spontaneous prose" is an erratic technique, which works brilliantly at its best but which can sometimes deteriorate into mere wordsmithing. ("That's not writing -- its typing!" as Truman Capote scornfully, and unfairly, said of "The Subterraneans".) Kerouac was a descriptive writer who could spend pages on detailed portrayals of places and people -- as in the scenes of mountain climbing in "The Dharma Bums" and in the description of Tristessa's living quarters in the novel of that name. His writings, particularly "On the Road" and "Lonesome Traveler" show a deep love of the places, landscapes, and character of the United States. Kerouac was the child of immigrants, and maintained a high and self-conscious spirit of patriotism throughout his life.
In rereading the Kerouac in this volume, I found that "On the Road" remains his most impressive work and a book that should keep Kerouac's place in American literature. The book tells the story of Kerouac's friendship with Neal Cassady (Dean Moriarty in the book), a young man who had spent much of his life in poolhalls, reform school, and prison. The book has a restless energy, and a spirit of passion as Kerouac (Sal Paradise in the book) and Moriarty ride back and forth across the United States and Mexico. "On the Road" leaves tantalizingly ambiguous the nature of the characters' wanderings. Are they looking simply for "kicks" and for sex, or does their search have a spiritual dimension as well? Similarly, Kerouac leaves ambiguous his attitude towards Moriarty and his rootless, wild way of life. For all the attraction Moriarty/Cassady held for Kerouac, "On the Road" can be read as a critique of his wildness and as a search for a life that is full and rich, but also settled.
The remaining works in this collection each have their admirers, and they are all worth reading. My favorite is the short novel "Tristessa" which, in difficult, jagged prose tells the story of Kerouac's relationship with a Mexican prostitute and drug addict during two trips to Mexico City. It includes long passages of detailed descriptions of rooms and streets, reflections on Buddhism, religion, and sex, and a sad but ultimately hopeful story. "The Subterraneans" also tells of a failed romance between Kerouac and a young black woman, Mardou. The book is set in San Francisco (the relationship on which it is based took place in New York City) and it features descriptions of bohemian life in San Francisco, and an astonishing passage related by Mardou in which she finds herself wandering naked over the streets of San Francisco.
"The Dharma Bums" differs from the other books in this collection in that Kerouac wrote it on commission from his publisher after the success of "On the Road." It is written in a much more accessible, popular style than either "Tristessa" or "The Subterraneans" and might be the best book after "On the Road" for the reader new to Kerouac. This book tells of the friendship between Kerouac and the poet Gary Snyder, as they climb mountains, discuss Buddhism, wander cross-country, and have wild parties. Some readers who like Kerouac's other books find "The Dharma Bums" rather tame. I find the book highly thoughtful, in its portrayal of Snyder and Kerouac, in its picture of American Buddhism in the 1950s, and in its depiction of California.
"Lonesome Traveler" is the one work in this collection that was new to me. It is a series of eight travel essays, including an essay on "The Vanishing American Hobo", some of which had been published separately. Kerouac writes that "its scope and purpose is simply poetry, or natural description". Many of these essays cover places and events that Kerouac describes in his novels, but they have a force and continuity of their own in their portrayal of rooming houses in San Francisco, pierfront dives, and work on the railroad. The best part of this book is "New York Scenes", an unforgettable portrait of "beat" places in New York City.
Kerouac's work remains to be discovered, savored and pondered by a new generation of readers. The Library of America deserves high praise for making his works accessible in this wonderful volume.
Robin Friedman
November 11, 2014
I'm rereading Kerouac this year, through this LOA volume and a separate copy of Visions of Cody. The 2 stars are for The Dharma Bums. I believe On the Road to be a good novel. I remember thinking the travel essays collected as Lonesome Traveler to be the finest prose Kerouac ever wrote. But revisiting The Dharma Bums after 50 years or so I see only high, grand sophomoric. It's a long gush. We can consider On the Road to be an extended hosanna to Neal Cassady. Similarly, The Dharma Bums is a jubilee for the poet Gary Snyder as depicted in the character Japhy Ryder. The novel's interesting for that. But I think it sad that Kerouac could so nakedly and artlessly display his enthusiasms. I think it sad that Allen Ginsberg would state, as he once did, that The Dharma Bums was Kerouac's best novel. What were they thinking?
Of these works I'd not read Tristessa. I found it engaging and a fascinating glimpse of Kerouac in Mexico City.
I'd looked forward to rereading Lonesome Traveler, the book of travel essays, and enjoyed it again. I think it maybe the best of Kerouac, as good as On the Road. The improved experience with Tristessa and my reconnection with Lonesome Traveler after almost 30 years lets me raise the rating to a 3d star.
Of these works I'd not read Tristessa. I found it engaging and a fascinating glimpse of Kerouac in Mexico City.
I'd looked forward to rereading Lonesome Traveler, the book of travel essays, and enjoyed it again. I think it maybe the best of Kerouac, as good as On the Road. The improved experience with Tristessa and my reconnection with Lonesome Traveler after almost 30 years lets me raise the rating to a 3d star.
August 6, 2016
...I could hear a new call and see a new horizon, and believe it at my young age; and a little bit of trouble or even Dean’s eventual rejection of me as a buddy, putting me down, as he would later, on starving sidewalks and sickbeds - what did it matter? I was a young writer and I wanted to take off. Somewhere along the line I knew there’d be girls, visions, everything; somewhere along the line the pearl would be handed to me.
***
It was my dream that screwed up.
***
It was my dream that screwed up.
January 22, 2021
*On the Road
August 10, 2018
Came across this collection when I was looking for copies of Tristessa and The Subterraneans. I'd already read On the Road several times, and Dharma Bums once a few years ago, but read them both again, and it strikes me that Kerouac's work gets better with the re-reading: I find the "spontaneous bop prosody" (or whatever Ginsberg referred to it as) difficult to read at times, I find myself getting lost in it, and losing the sense of it, and eventually sitting there thinking: this is ridiculous, we're talking about a tree. But the more times I read On the Road, the more like music it becomes, the more it flows, since having read it before, I'm not focusing so much on each word (which often times makes the whole thing senseless) but on the rhythm of it, and maybe this is how Kerouac should be read. Certainly it applied also to Dharma Bums. Of the stuff I hadn't read before: I started off disliking The Subterraneans, but by the time I reached the end, I loved it. Tristessa, however, I couldn't get into, didn't enjoy at all, and found it left me completely cold - maybe re-reading it in months/years to come will leave a different impression. I enjoyed Lonesome Traveller a lot, and also the journal entries (although if you read On the Road beforehand, it's basically like reading excerpts with the real names in place). I can understand how Kerouac isn't for everyone - he isn't even for me all of the time - but even at his most frustratingly rambling, he's all soul.
August 18, 2011
08/17/2011 Update:
I liked "Lonesome Traveler" as much as "On the Road", and in fact the last section of Lonesome Traveler, "The Vanishing American Hobo", portrays the tightening noose of anti-liberty in America starting at the fringes. Today the noose is so tight that we are starting to choke. You couldn't have Walt Whitman today (he'd be arrested) unless he was on a government grant and had papers to prove it. Anyway the collection is worth reading for completeness.
jri.
08/12/2011 Post:
I'm finally getting back to this collection. I find that, except for "On the Road", I have to be in the right mood to read Kerouac. Just finished "The Subterraneans". I think Kerouac's 'stream-of-consciousness' writing is more accessible than James Joyce's, but of course each writer is unique. These two writers, together with Thomas Pynchon, constitute my periodic immersion in what I categorize as post-modern writing. I'll probably add Joseph Heller's "Catch 22" to the mix eventually for the full trip. All-in-all, however, I like the poetic-ness of Kerouac better. This type of literature is not good to hold up as an example of how to write, but it is entertaining and often times the subjects addressed in the fictions are worth contemplating.
Novo Visum,
Neue Ansicht.
I liked "Lonesome Traveler" as much as "On the Road", and in fact the last section of Lonesome Traveler, "The Vanishing American Hobo", portrays the tightening noose of anti-liberty in America starting at the fringes. Today the noose is so tight that we are starting to choke. You couldn't have Walt Whitman today (he'd be arrested) unless he was on a government grant and had papers to prove it. Anyway the collection is worth reading for completeness.
jri.
08/12/2011 Post:
I'm finally getting back to this collection. I find that, except for "On the Road", I have to be in the right mood to read Kerouac. Just finished "The Subterraneans". I think Kerouac's 'stream-of-consciousness' writing is more accessible than James Joyce's, but of course each writer is unique. These two writers, together with Thomas Pynchon, constitute my periodic immersion in what I categorize as post-modern writing. I'll probably add Joseph Heller's "Catch 22" to the mix eventually for the full trip. All-in-all, however, I like the poetic-ness of Kerouac better. This type of literature is not good to hold up as an example of how to write, but it is entertaining and often times the subjects addressed in the fictions are worth contemplating.
Novo Visum,
Neue Ansicht.
Want to read
February 27, 2008Reading for Robin’s book club, sometime in 2008. Read The Dharma Bums (and Visions of Gerard) long ago in high school. My old mass market paperback is nestled in a box in the basement, which is beginning to resemble the government facility (Smithsonian? National Archives?) to which the Ark of the Covenant is taken in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Or, are the book boxes really just a California King size bed for the resident felines? (Is all ‘bout tha kittehs, ya dig?)
(Books and kittehs go together like bourbon and soda; it’s all great until somebody pukes.) I think Mark Twain said that first, but the guy he was speaking to that evening was too hung-over the next day to remember it; and, Twain just thought it was so obvious that he didn’t bother to scribble the bit in his diary.
I’ll exhume ye olde paperback sometime in the spring and compare notes. I predict it will go something like this:
High School Me: (gush) Brilliant!, Divine!, Yes!
Contemporary Me: (skeptically), Haven’t I seen you at Whole Foods, Jack?
(Books and kittehs go together like bourbon and soda; it’s all great until somebody pukes.) I think Mark Twain said that first, but the guy he was speaking to that evening was too hung-over the next day to remember it; and, Twain just thought it was so obvious that he didn’t bother to scribble the bit in his diary.
I’ll exhume ye olde paperback sometime in the spring and compare notes. I predict it will go something like this:
High School Me: (gush) Brilliant!, Divine!, Yes!
Contemporary Me: (skeptically), Haven’t I seen you at Whole Foods, Jack?
September 16, 2009
Kerouac’s freeform novels are brilliant poetic allegories of the psychosis in the American Dream, and his road novels (four of which are included here, with essay collection Lonesome Traveler) reveal this conflict between individuality and conformity in their stark thematic contrasts – independence & alliance (On the Road), isolation & assimilation (The Dharma Bums), iconoclast & outcast (The Subterraneans), singularity & dependence (Tristessa) – and stylistic extremes – the creative freedom of Kerouac’s “spontaneous Bop prosody” was compromised by commercial interest in On The Road and The Dharma Bums. A second volume, with Kerouac’s novels of lost youth, would be a worthwhile companion to Road Novels.
May 28, 2020
Happy Birthday, Jack! (March 12, 1922)
The only Jack for me are the mad Jacks,
the Jacks who are Jack to live,
mad to Jack,
mad to be Jacked,
desirous of everything at the same Jack,
the Jacks who never yawn or say a commonplace thing,
but burn, Jack, burn,
like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding
like Jacks across the stars
Knights of the Road
https://youtu.be/SQKclkBD7F0
The only Jack for me are the mad Jacks,
the Jacks who are Jack to live,
mad to Jack,
mad to be Jacked,
desirous of everything at the same Jack,
the Jacks who never yawn or say a commonplace thing,
but burn, Jack, burn,
like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding
like Jacks across the stars
Knights of the Road
https://youtu.be/SQKclkBD7F0
August 15, 2021
*Review only of “On the Road”*
So far removed from the Beat Generation, the shroud of mystery made around it by a chorus of voices with opinions that run the gamut gave me a muddled misunderstanding of what to expect from Kerouac and his carousing lot in “On the Road”. Where I expected experimentation for its own sake, I found more of a madness that brought it about as a byproduct; where I thought liberality would reign, I saw some of the most sincere conservative convictions; and where I believed to be a blissful narrative with florid prose, I found a grinding but beautiful movement with gritty features. All of these busted conceptions bode well for the book and my enjoyment.
The starkest contrast to my misconceptions came in the opening pages - ‘madness’ before all. This was their credo and what concerned Sal Paradise the most among his cohort, “the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live….” Dean Moriarty was mad, and he carried the torch to its logical conclusion, leaving no doubt as to why he was the central figure and friend for Kerouac as a narrator. He was so mad to live and love, so desirous of everything at once, that his madness became his most sincere conviction; and it captured the mind of Paradise so strongly that the madness seemed to become his only certainty. Paradise makes no mistake in informing the reader that he yearns for a stable homestead somewhere down the road, but for now, he is certain of nothing; and that’s not surprising because he harkens to what makes him uncertain in almost every reflection that spins the narrative from the road for a moment: atomic bombs, needless death, and utter lack of care in the tragic triumph of these humanistic vices following WW2. In that wake, madness drives them down the road in pursuit of ‘It’, which seemed to me that elusive certainty that isn’t madness, but for which madness, for now, fills the void.
The divide between The Beat Generation and the beatnik stereotypes that trounced its legacy, followed by the hippie culture to come soon after, was what shrouded my judgement most severely before reading this book. But I cannot imagine being more wrong- down to the very fundamental beliefs of the Beats and the beatniks and the hippies of the sixties. The Beats inclined toward conservative, Old Bull, a hero of the Beats beaten down by the road, hated three things: liberals, American bureaucracy, and cops; those are some strongly distilled conservative values, and so unlike the ones today (I’m talking to you, bootlickers). After reading, I wasn’t surprised to find that Kerouac cam full circle and began to disavow some of the groups he inspired; his mantra was not made for idolization, it was made for his time and place and was steeped in a surprising amount of self-deprecation: Sal Paradise describes his encounter with a young lady with whom he indulges in the possibilities of their future, only to reaffirm in his narration that he had no intentions of actually pursuing them, not because of a lack of interest, only because he knows it’s not in his cards, and he’s sad and maudlin for it.
And the narration was not idealized either. Kerouac could not have depicted more of the dirt and grime that gave his lifestyle and the things he saw their American essence. The showcase of squalor was not spared, from moth-eaten shirts to showerless hobos happening across a country of otherwise pristine beauty- Kerouac pulled no punches, and I appreciated this most of all, and it was this that stood in starkest contrast with my conceptions. No romanticism, only reality.
“On the Road” was also lacking, and I state this as not to partake in hypocritical romanticism of my own. My biggest chagrin- it certainly doesn’t pass the Bechdel Test- it doesn’t even come close. And there’s no time or place that didn’t have its share of women, only here they were pawns in these dirtbags’ games.
But Kerouac’s mantra came through clear, as a effervescent neon sign showing the way to some dark and dreary theater filled with characters of dirty dispositions does in the moonless midnight in a Montana town of the fifties, and maybe of today, that otherwise soaks light only from lively lightning tearing through its landscape: “Something would come of it yet. There’s always more, a little further, it never ends.”
So far removed from the Beat Generation, the shroud of mystery made around it by a chorus of voices with opinions that run the gamut gave me a muddled misunderstanding of what to expect from Kerouac and his carousing lot in “On the Road”. Where I expected experimentation for its own sake, I found more of a madness that brought it about as a byproduct; where I thought liberality would reign, I saw some of the most sincere conservative convictions; and where I believed to be a blissful narrative with florid prose, I found a grinding but beautiful movement with gritty features. All of these busted conceptions bode well for the book and my enjoyment.
The starkest contrast to my misconceptions came in the opening pages - ‘madness’ before all. This was their credo and what concerned Sal Paradise the most among his cohort, “the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live….” Dean Moriarty was mad, and he carried the torch to its logical conclusion, leaving no doubt as to why he was the central figure and friend for Kerouac as a narrator. He was so mad to live and love, so desirous of everything at once, that his madness became his most sincere conviction; and it captured the mind of Paradise so strongly that the madness seemed to become his only certainty. Paradise makes no mistake in informing the reader that he yearns for a stable homestead somewhere down the road, but for now, he is certain of nothing; and that’s not surprising because he harkens to what makes him uncertain in almost every reflection that spins the narrative from the road for a moment: atomic bombs, needless death, and utter lack of care in the tragic triumph of these humanistic vices following WW2. In that wake, madness drives them down the road in pursuit of ‘It’, which seemed to me that elusive certainty that isn’t madness, but for which madness, for now, fills the void.
The divide between The Beat Generation and the beatnik stereotypes that trounced its legacy, followed by the hippie culture to come soon after, was what shrouded my judgement most severely before reading this book. But I cannot imagine being more wrong- down to the very fundamental beliefs of the Beats and the beatniks and the hippies of the sixties. The Beats inclined toward conservative, Old Bull, a hero of the Beats beaten down by the road, hated three things: liberals, American bureaucracy, and cops; those are some strongly distilled conservative values, and so unlike the ones today (I’m talking to you, bootlickers). After reading, I wasn’t surprised to find that Kerouac cam full circle and began to disavow some of the groups he inspired; his mantra was not made for idolization, it was made for his time and place and was steeped in a surprising amount of self-deprecation: Sal Paradise describes his encounter with a young lady with whom he indulges in the possibilities of their future, only to reaffirm in his narration that he had no intentions of actually pursuing them, not because of a lack of interest, only because he knows it’s not in his cards, and he’s sad and maudlin for it.
And the narration was not idealized either. Kerouac could not have depicted more of the dirt and grime that gave his lifestyle and the things he saw their American essence. The showcase of squalor was not spared, from moth-eaten shirts to showerless hobos happening across a country of otherwise pristine beauty- Kerouac pulled no punches, and I appreciated this most of all, and it was this that stood in starkest contrast with my conceptions. No romanticism, only reality.
“On the Road” was also lacking, and I state this as not to partake in hypocritical romanticism of my own. My biggest chagrin- it certainly doesn’t pass the Bechdel Test- it doesn’t even come close. And there’s no time or place that didn’t have its share of women, only here they were pawns in these dirtbags’ games.
But Kerouac’s mantra came through clear, as a effervescent neon sign showing the way to some dark and dreary theater filled with characters of dirty dispositions does in the moonless midnight in a Montana town of the fifties, and maybe of today, that otherwise soaks light only from lively lightning tearing through its landscape: “Something would come of it yet. There’s always more, a little further, it never ends.”
October 3, 2021
Each novel collected here is a re-read. I encountered them in my wide-eyed twenties, when I was both thirsting to soak up any form of wild expression I could find and so uncritical of the source. Twenty years of living, thinking and hardening have transpired since. I now approach these once sacred texts with an open mind, an open heart—as well as with apprehension.
ON THE ROAD, I can say with confidence, remains the modern classic it deserves to be. Kerouac may disagree, but his writing is stronger when his spontaneous bop prose is tempered with revision. The narrative is clearer, the characterization more concise—resulting in better drawn, more sympathetic characters—and the pathos vibrant. It is an alluring book. It takes you in, asking you to participate. And because of the strength of the writing, we willingly say “Yass and yass!”
Such praise cannot, with a clear conscience, be bestowed upon THE SUBTERRANEANS nor TRISTESSA. These are ugly books, dense with racism, sexism, and homophobia. Blasted beyond recognition by booze and fame, the Kerouac here is everything his detracted said of him in his time. He is a Neanderthal, and what he achieved isn’t writing—it’s typing. A great betrayal has occurred. Caveman Jack has slain our Sensitive Author. Where is he who sought the Golden Eternity in its fragmented minutes, of the beauty of the world, of life, of living in the mundane? He used to turn over rocks to show us the glory hidden therein—now he is the rock, barring us from the glory of his better, earlier writing.
This collection redeems itself by degrees. Certain chapters in LONESOME TRAVELLER reinstate the romantic searcher narrator. But we don’t see his return properly until the Journal entries with which this collection closes. In these, once again, we have pathos, we have rebellion, we have the romantic search for poetic origins in the empirical world before us. They might be raw, these Journal entries—but they are rich. I could delve into them again in twenty years and enjoy them still. Hopefully I will re-read them sooner than that.
ON THE ROAD, I can say with confidence, remains the modern classic it deserves to be. Kerouac may disagree, but his writing is stronger when his spontaneous bop prose is tempered with revision. The narrative is clearer, the characterization more concise—resulting in better drawn, more sympathetic characters—and the pathos vibrant. It is an alluring book. It takes you in, asking you to participate. And because of the strength of the writing, we willingly say “Yass and yass!”
Such praise cannot, with a clear conscience, be bestowed upon THE SUBTERRANEANS nor TRISTESSA. These are ugly books, dense with racism, sexism, and homophobia. Blasted beyond recognition by booze and fame, the Kerouac here is everything his detracted said of him in his time. He is a Neanderthal, and what he achieved isn’t writing—it’s typing. A great betrayal has occurred. Caveman Jack has slain our Sensitive Author. Where is he who sought the Golden Eternity in its fragmented minutes, of the beauty of the world, of life, of living in the mundane? He used to turn over rocks to show us the glory hidden therein—now he is the rock, barring us from the glory of his better, earlier writing.
This collection redeems itself by degrees. Certain chapters in LONESOME TRAVELLER reinstate the romantic searcher narrator. But we don’t see his return properly until the Journal entries with which this collection closes. In these, once again, we have pathos, we have rebellion, we have the romantic search for poetic origins in the empirical world before us. They might be raw, these Journal entries—but they are rich. I could delve into them again in twenty years and enjoy them still. Hopefully I will re-read them sooner than that.
February 7, 2020
Jack Kerouac wrote in a stream of consciousness style, a flow of words with long sentences extending nearly a paragraph in length at times.
His style reminds me of William Faulkner’s. His description is beautiful with lots of adjectives. He often made up words.
The Road Novels are largely based on Kerouac’s travels across the country hitchhiking,hopping freight trains, and taking buses. He also travelled abroad working on board ships for his passage.
Kerouac was the chronicler of the beat generation
Of avant-garde novelists, poets, composers, and artists. Their music of choice was jazz. Their drugs of choice were alcohol, Benzedrine, marijuana, and morphine.
The morals of the beatniks, perhaps because of the drugs, or perhaps because of the effects of World War II were quite unconventional. So much so that Kerouac’s publishers required him to give fictional names to his characters in On the Road in order to avoid lawsuits.
♥️✡️🐑✝️♥️
His style reminds me of William Faulkner’s. His description is beautiful with lots of adjectives. He often made up words.
The Road Novels are largely based on Kerouac’s travels across the country hitchhiking,hopping freight trains, and taking buses. He also travelled abroad working on board ships for his passage.
Kerouac was the chronicler of the beat generation
Of avant-garde novelists, poets, composers, and artists. Their music of choice was jazz. Their drugs of choice were alcohol, Benzedrine, marijuana, and morphine.
The morals of the beatniks, perhaps because of the drugs, or perhaps because of the effects of World War II were quite unconventional. So much so that Kerouac’s publishers required him to give fictional names to his characters in On the Road in order to avoid lawsuits.
♥️✡️🐑✝️♥️
February 28, 2018
Did not like this at all. It gave me the impression of a spoilt teenage boy doing what he wanted - oblivious to harm to himself or others. Yes I know a different time but as an autobiographical story built the image of someone I would have no desire to know. Also the style of the continuous prose was too much for me.
November 19, 2025
Essential. I'd read the first four sections before (all of which are great), but certainly worth the read for Lonesome Traveler and Journal Selections alone. Perfectly imperfect, musical exultations from master observer.
August 30, 2013
With the classic "On the Road" are added 4 other books and some journal writings. "On the Road" is by far the best well known--I had never heard of the other books, though their titles are intriguing-- The Dharma Bums, The Subterraneans, etc. Most are not as entertaining as On the Road, though Lonesome Traveler was of interest for its description of time spent as a fire lookout in the Mt. Baker Forest in Washington. And the essay "The Vanishing American Hobo" is quite a paean to that hardy American stereotype.
The journal entries are grouped by geographic location. I found the Yellowstone descriptions of most interest.
The journal entries are grouped by geographic location. I found the Yellowstone descriptions of most interest.
June 18, 2012
This collection has its highlights and its lowlights. This was my first time reading Kerouac, and this was a nice introduction to his style. While his "spontaneous prose" confused me horribly in some of his novels, it kept the pace quick and interesting in others. I liked that at the end of this particular collection, journal entries and a chronology were provided. The chronology, in particular, provided some helpful insight in better understanding the man behind the novels.
August 12, 2009
I'm only 50 pages into "On the Road," Kerouac's autobiographical account of his early journeyings across America, but so far it's great fun as he bounces from place to place seeking adventure. He's crazy and I wouldn't have wanted to run into his crowd, but it's sure fun to read about those days. Most of the characters are based on historical figures, including Allen Ginsburg.
January 21, 2016
Sometimes going back and reading books from 30 or so years ago is disappointing, but I found Jack Kerouac's books held up well. I appreciated the notes section for adding insight and I still enjoy his writing and this time, after his death, I felt a great sadness for someone so troubled. But Jack still rocks after all these years.
January 1, 2015
Just re-read The Dharma Bums, which first introduced me to Zen Buddhism back in my early 20s. Disappointed, now that I've studied and practiced Zen, to see how loose Kerouac's interpretation was. His characters are often judgmental drunks; neither quality is very Zen.
June 9, 2008
For a Beats book discussion series this summer...
February 11, 2010
Not my cup of tea.
July 12, 2013
Not surprising, my favorite novels in this collection are On the Road and Dharma Bums.
January 11, 2025
On The Road - finished 1983
The Dharma Bums - finished 01/22/23
The Subterraneans - finished 01/15/23
Tristessa - finished 01/10/25
The Dharma Bums - finished 01/22/23
The Subterraneans - finished 01/15/23
Tristessa - finished 01/10/25
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