In these uncollected writings Jack Kerouac portrays himself in his life. He hitches a ride to San Francisco with a blonde, goes on the road with photographer Robert Frank, rides bus through the Northwest and Montana, records the blues of an old Negro hobo, talks about the Beats and how it all began, gives his "Essentials of Spontaneous Prose" and defends his novel The Subterraneans, compares Shakespeare and James Joyce, describes the cafeterias and subways of Manhattan, goes to a ballgame and a prize fight, and reflects on Céline, on Christmas in New England, on Murnau's Nosferatu, on jazz & bop, and tells us what he's thinking about. And in the closing piece "cityCityCITY," we're treated to Jack's science fiction vision of the future."
Table of Contents
Robert Creeley: Thinking of Jack: A Preface On the Road On the Beats On Writing Observations On Sports Last Words cityCityCITY Editor's Note
Jean-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.
NEVER ever disappointed by jack. what a fucking legend. never read any of his essays, until now and i have to say they are profoundly excellent. through them i can get to know what his everyday life was like, what was going on on his mind when he wasnt writing novels. much love, again and again.
Fans of Kerouac know that his books are more than just stories about hitchhiking and looking for kicks—they’re also about his jazz-influenced literary style. In this collection of writings, in addition to discussions of the Beat Generation and the meaning and origin of the term “beat” as he employs it, Kerouac comments on writing—his own, Allen Ginsberg’s, Gregory Corso’s, William Shakespeare’s, James Joyce’s. He writes about hitchhiking, the photography of Robert Frank, jazz and bop, and his hometown of Lowell, Massachusetts. There is a statement defending the novel The Subterraneans against obscenity charges, and a description of Murnau’s film Nosferatu. Included is his essay "On the Origins of a Generation," which originally appeared in Playboy. As well, there is a description of a bullfight that is worth reading for the way that Kerouac’s attitude toward the event changes in the middle of the essay.
Acquired Jul 2, 2009 Powell's City of Books, Portland, OR
What is this? Like my sixteenth work by Kerouac read, well probably—something about him always gives me a certain kind of comfort—a foggy childlike joy experienced in the mist of the mind.
Well this is pretty good, some of it’s really good, some of it’s certainly not too good to me, but it’s Kerouac and I like the words. Some of these essays I’ve heard elsewhere, or spoken aloud on tape, well great.
- and I almost forgot - the essay/story/monologue on Robert Frank is worth a read for anyone interested in any kind of art in general - it was really nice to see Kerouac so humble and respectful of an artist of another craft in an extremely sincere and childlike and awed manner.
The book is made up of a series of previously uncollected and completely unrelated works written sporadically between c.1948-1969 and published posthumously in 1993. These consist of short stories, journal entries, newspaper articles and columns concerned with contemporary politics, sports, music and art, tracts in the legacy of the Beats, and even a horrifying Burroughs-esque tale reminiscent of something out of Naked Lunch!
What one must remember while reading this is that Jack never envisioned these works as being grouped together in any way and their publication was the work of the John Sampas, which makes reading this book seem relatively frantic and fragmented.
Some parts are inevitably better than others. As the book goes on you can see the development of the 'spontaneity' that Jack is known for, but I think it definitely starts with its strongest texts and they become increasingly less interesting and even less legible as it goes on.
Some of the later writings were written in the months before Jack's untimely death in 1969, and while these writings are certainly not of the same ilk as his earlier works, it's nonetheless interesting to see what was on his mind as he entered into the depths of his alcoholism.
Unless you're already a big fan of Jack's, there's not really much point in reading this book.
I hadn't read any Kerouac in decades. His style of stream of consciousness is not as enticing as it once was; however, bits and bobs of his prose are still brilliant.
When you buy these apocryphal books you are taking a gamble -- hoping that there is something worth reading in the pile left that wasn't already issued in the main canon of a writer's works. With some people it is disappointingly meagre offerings that show you nothing new about the writer; that sully the perfect picture you had, or at least taint it.
This book was a pleasant surprise. Kerouac on classic literature, on sport, and Kerouac doing science fiction. This would serve not only as an essential for Kerouac but as a good introduction to his work as well.
A great collection of Kerouac ephemera. Arranged thematically, there's something here for every stripe of Kerouac fan, covering a wide range of his writing career.
This book could be renamed 'The Collected Essays & Short Prose works of Jack Kerouac' but it wouldn't sound as catchy as Good Blonde & Others.
Good Blonde is the short hitchhiking story that opens the book and it is typical Kerouac, with a nice steady pace that keeps the reader interested. This book contains such a wide and eclectic range of Kerouac's shorter prose styles, and most of it is good reading.
The most enjoyable pieces were "Good Blonde", the essay about travelling around America with the photographer Robert Frank (this essay ended up becoming the Introduction to The Americans, a classic work of photography by Frank) and I really loved Kerouac's Home at Christmas short story. Kerouac captures that special magical feeling of Christmas that we can all feel in the air at that time of the year; the feeling of excitement in the neighborhood and local community, people putting up their Christmas wreaths and trees, kids waiting for Santa etc. and you can tell that he was a very nostalgic writer, who often reminisces on happier times in his childhood.
The dystopic Orwellian "cityCityCITY" which rounds off the book, and which is one of Kerouac's only works of pure fiction, is quite disturbing in fact, considering that such times might one day exist in future some day. This piece also shows you how versatile Kerouac was as a writer, he could literally "write in any style that you want" as Ann Charters (his first biographer) once famously said.
And finally of course, this is one place where you can find Kerouac's definitive statement on his own poetics - i.e. spontaneous prose, which he summarizes in his classic short work "Essentials of Spontaneous Prose." His words to other writers to remember that "you are genius all the time" is probably good advice too, and it reminded me of something Neal Cassady (JK's travelling buddy and best friend) once said in his bus trip to NYC with the Merry Pranksters, "if you don't think you're right when you're wrong, then you'd better start worrying about yourself."
Highly recommended, especially for Kerouac or beat fans. Don't expect anything that will blow your mind like Doctor Sax, Visions of Cody or even the fast-frenzied excitement of On the Road, but it gives you a rounder and fuller portrait of the King of the Beats.
This is a book of essays and magazine articles, and it is hit and miss. The book is split into seven sections. On The Road, as you would expect, is basically a few separate chapters of travel in the vein of his other books, but nothing too new and exciting. On The Beats is the standout section. His descriptions and opinions of what it means to be a Beat are not to be missed! On Writing was disappointing, I was expecting more insight from his writing about writing. Observations largely consist of a few childhood stories. On Sports was also disappoining, because reading about 1960s obscure baseball players just doesn't feel necessary or insightful; I doubt he was much of a sportswriter. Last Words was a column he had in Escapade, apparently a competitor of Playboy back in the day. Some about jazz, some history, some sports, some bullfighting. It's ok. The highlight is 1969's "What Am I Thinking About," where he answers a question about whether he identifies more with conservative politicians or the alienated radical youth. The surprise is that he doesn't much identify with the hippie youth who thought that they were modeling themselves after him, or who at least worshipped him at the time, but his response is nuanced and telling. cityCityCITY is some type distopian future short story, and, to me, it seemed barely coherent. Part Blade Runner, part Space Oddity.
All in all, it was a nice read, like a checking in with an old friend. These are not his greatst works, but they tell you more about the man than his fiction does, or at least different things. This adds to the overall picture, and, occasonally his prose still soars like noneother.
“Per me fu una notte profetica. Lo vidi scavalcare i binari - disse che ben presto se ne sarebbe andato a "Sanacisca" oppure ad "Awg'n" che poi erano San Francisco e Ogden, nello Utah - fantasma avvolto in una cerata che cerca gli spazi vuoti lungo la via, che cerca riparo nelle piú asciutte tra le carrozze frigorifere o che trova giaciglio nella carta, o in qualsiasi pianale, o scatolone o persino tra gli stessi freddi binari, «Finché si fila, via a tutta birra!» come mi urlò quando se ne andò. E cosí sparí. La mattina dopo raccolsi la mia paga, riempii la mia borsa logora e presi un autobus sino all'estremità della città. Non sarei mai rimasto incastrato, sarei rotolato lontano. Ero di nuovo sulla vecchia strada. Sapevo che prima o poi l'avrei rivisto.” 🧡
Raccolta di racconti e scritti vari, non tutti a mio gusto interessanti. Il libro vale la spesa anche solo per il primo racconto, Bella Bionda e tutta la sezione intitolata Sulla Strada, per Il mio gatto Tyke e per sentirlo "parlare" di Shakespeare e Celine.
Ma la mattina, dopo aver dormito un po', ecco che l'America si sveglia di nuovo per te nella luce brillante del mattino assolato, l'erba fresca e l'autostoppista stravaccato a dormire al sole, con la sua valigia di cartone e il giaccone che lo copre mentre un'auto gli passa accanto sulla strada.
“Beat doesn’t mean tired or bushed, so much as it means beato, the Italian for beatific: to be in a state of beatitude, like St. Francis, trying to love all life, trying to be utterly sincere with everyone, practicing endurance, kindness, cultivating joy of heart. How can this be done in our mad modern world of multiplicities and millions? By practicing a little solitude, going off by yourself once in a while to store up that most precious of goals: the vibrations of sincerity.” ― Jack Kerouac, Good Blonde & Others
Overall, this is an uneven collection of Kerouac’s writing driven by the fact that it is basically a hodgepodge of short works with very little theme or content binding it together. That said, folks familiar with his work and with his life will find plenty of interesting and new information about his life and views. Even a new reader will likely find high points here.
it’s an essay collection that’s really fun to read and really insightful and thought provoking until you start feeling insane but i respect kerouac and his writing i just can’t handle the outer limits of what he is capable of
Kerouac intense and rare as always. Little more challenging to read. Some texts are better, some wasn't my cup of tea, but in the end I believe that his thoughts are truly timeless.
It isnt necessarily the greatest of Kerouac but this collection of shorter writings is a fun read for someone who has read his other work and wants to understand him better. Favourites were two stories about Christmas in Lowell, especially "Home at Christmas", the Good Blonde story, and "The Great Western Bus Ride", reminiscent of OTR. Recommended for Kerouac fans, if you can find a cheap copy.
The sections where Kerouac talks his writing style. There are two selection/chapters that cover this "spontaneous prose": "The Essentials of Spontaneous Prose" and "Belief & Technique for Modern Prose." Both are kind of checklists; but how-to lists might be more accurate. Interesting, downright fascinating...though I'm not 100% sure what to do with stuff like #14 in "Belief": "Like Proust, be an old teahead of time." But I can certainly get behind #29: "You're a Genius all the time." (I tell myself this everyday. Heehee.)
And speaking of genius -- the essay "Are Writers Made or Born?" is AWESOME. Basically he separates the idea of great talents (what he refers to as interpreters...like a great violinist is not Mozart, for example, even though he/she plays well) and geniuses -- the Mozarts -- are people who create something new that hasn't been seen before. Worth reading even if you read nothing else in this collection.
Other stuff that was pretty good:
His arguments for Beat and what it is. His definitions are meant to clarify a lot of the philosophy of the Beat movement. I don't know if they clarify too much...but I think I caught a few details that I didn't know before. Probably one of his most interesting observations in "On the Beats" is "The dope thing will die out. That was a fad, like bathtub gin."
The stuff you have to wade through:
Sports. While he makes some really great arguments for why baseball strategy (walking the best hitters, etc.) makes for dull games and players who don't know how to swing for the fences...for the most part the sports sections are dull. The games and seasons he writes about are long gone, and the immediacy of a sports article doesn't reverberate through the ages like we would like. Even for a writer like Kerouac.
One of the first Kerouac books I ever got was a copy of Dharma Bums that was printed sometime in the mid 70s. The cover has a picture of two longhairs canoodling in the grass during one of those gauzy, burnt-umber sunsets that seemed to only happen on Bread LP covers. Beneath the picture, there's a little blurb that kind of makes my skin crawl. It says something along the lines of "by Jack Kerouac, the swinging daddy of the psychedelic generation, the man who started it all."
This collection isn't up there with Kerouac's definitive works, by any means. But if your image of the man is of some slick-haired dude in gabardine slacks snapping his fingers on a street corner and saying "far out, daddy-o" (or, God forbid, two stoned hippies canoodling to the tune of "Baby I'm-A Want You"), then this book may round out your perception. In his writing on the so-called Beat Generation (the best of the essays and stories here), he reveals a more complex, perplexed, wandering soul, at once simpler and more complicated than most one-dimensional "beat daddy" sketches lead us to believe. He was a good-hearted Catholic boy who loved his working-class town and his mother. He was a Buddhist potsmoker. A freewheeling hitcher in love with the world. A bum. But, mostly, just not King of the Hippies. For Pete's Sake. Anything but that.
There's a lot of tenderness in this collection that may surprise you. And his foray into sci-fi is better than I anticipated, as well. I didn't think this book was up to much, but it's been several weeks and I'm still thinking about it. So, there you go.
Just completed this volume of collected writings. I would recommend it as an introduction to Kerouac. I'll definitely want to travel with him On the Road someday, but this sort of reading leads to a strong desire for a less strenuous effort for awhile. Surprisingly it was not the further road stories, essays on writing or baseball, nor his other musings that I found the most Interesting. Rather, it was his dystopian future world fiction, cityCityCITY, with the alternative ending promising a life of hope that I truly enjoyed. But even that story left me tired from considering all that was implied in the text, and in need of rest.
The problem making it your policy as a writer to take a bunch of speed and sit down at a typewriter and let your fingers fly until you feel like stopping and then calling whatever you just wrote a book, is that unless you have been planning the thing in your head for seven or eight years (like with On the Road), your book is going to be a big piece of crap with a few really great sentences here and there.
In someways I feel Kerouac has been over rated as a writer but when he is on he is on. This is a great collection of his writings when he is in a true Kerouacian zone. His writing on Jazz needs to be added to the Jazz writing cannon. His defense of the Subterraneans ( One of the best books he ever wrote) is excellent. If you want to introduce someone to Kerouac try this book, The Dharma Bums and Subterraneans.
Vampires were also thought to be the souls of ordinary living people which leave the body in sleep and come upon other sleepers in the form of down-fluff!...so don't sleep in your duck-down sleepingbag in Transylvania! (or even in California, they say). Actually, don't worrry...scientifically speaking, the only blood-sucking bats in the world are located in South America from Oaxaca on down.
I bought this book some years ago and it was not so great that i would recommend it to anyone, especially Kerouac fans. I was watching the PICNIC recently and i do believe the story that William Holden's character was telling of fortunes/misfortunes of hitchiking is from the Good Blonde.