Kerouac: Diaper, or Dope?

Even in my "Hipster"* phase I couldn't get through 'On the Road'.

* The phrase here used to describe the style of writing, and not fucked up fashion sense and love of shitty beer.

I went through an enormous Beat phase in college, mostly to counter to the dense, cerebral stuff I was reading in my English classes. I read almost all of Kerouac's prose works and, based on my recollection, I think Kerouac is one of those writers that you have to read before you turn 25, or you're going to miss the point altogether (see also, to a lesser degree, the man responsible for my screen name, J.D. Salinger).

There are other, far better writers who could be considered part of the "Beat" movement, many of them women. Though you don't hear about them often, women did play a role in that movement. I think their writing holds up because they actually focused on their work instead of galavanting around the country, grifting money of of unsuspecting relatives, and "living."

I just put down my Collected Works of Kerouac and walked in here to find this thread. I like his stuff, especially On the Road and Dharma Bums, and his style of writing... but I am 24.

I don't wear berets or drink Rolling Rock. I wouldn't consider him to be a literary giant, per say, but I do think he's a good example for a type of literary movement. Whether or not the stream-of-consciousness style is an "improvement" on literature up until that point or not is a matter of personal taste, I suppose, but I can definitely see how On the Road attained its legendary status.

Was Burroughs really a beat or did he just fuck some of them (perhaps)? I'm not sure, but his stature in the "scene" easily overshadows them all. Read Naked Lunch and On the Road in the same period; it's what separates the man from the boy Kerouac unfortunately couldn't accept himself as, his writing suffering as a result; he reinvented himself as the human beacon of freedom, yet remained in his mother's care, which is enough to question the honesty of works that are supposed to be best appreciated as nonfiction; he lacks a self-awareness, though I will credit him for his overall writing style, since it was so influential to others who'd bend literary writing in more imaginative ways, like punk rock was to post-punk. Kerouac was needed on a more cultural level more than one appreciated on the individual merits of his own work.

Myself, I am perpetually in a beat phase if I don't edit my writing or scrawl when drunk, which does happen often, though I'm not particularly fond of reading their works, aside from Burroughs (if he is a beat at all). It's more what the beats represented - an explosive for something more refined to be created, only to be also destroyed when it also becomes stale from newer authors doing the same thing over time and the cycle can begin again...

I always felt that the most interesting portions of On The Road were the ones where it became obvious how much he wished he was Cassady (or at the very least like Cassady) and where he essentially revealed his true role in the generation which was nothing more than an observer and recorder. For a generation with incredibly dynamic personalities, all of whom he seemed to be in contact with, he just seems like the quiet guy in the back of the room taking it all in.

Then again, it's been a while since I read him.

I think it's due to your not being 15 anymore.

I listened to On The Road nearly a year ago, and my reaction was, "I would have loved this book as a teenager." As an adult, the writing seems pedestrian and the episodes provincial.

I wonder what I'll read when I'm 65 and think, "I would have loved that when I was 40."

Weird criticism for a writer. I'm not much of a Kerouac fan (certainly not an idolizer), but he did capture a time(lessness) and place and feeling, which is what an author does.

If anything, Kerouac wasn't quite honest with himself. Who'd call out Thomas Pynchon for being a (possible) shut-in? He doesn't cast himself in his stories, and Kerouac does, but as a passive character in books about freedom and whatever Neal Cassady happens to be doing. If his books weren't so autobiographical and self-deluding, I'd be able to tolerate more of his prose...it's no wonder he became an alcoholic, having been known as this character who never existed...like if Hunter S. Thompson was a passive guy in Fear and Loathing...rampant speculation...but just imagine how terrible that book would be.

Kills it...

This is the part where you name names. Otherwise, us poor ignorant bastards remain poor ignorant bastards.

Still waiting for you to name names, Zooey.

I have no great desire to reread On The Road either, but am cool with giving "great writers when you're 16" props in the same way I'd give great children's authors the same.

Big Sur though, that's a whole other bag - truly dark and despairing, one of the most intense books I've read. Highly reccomended.

Does anyone actually read Burough's experimental stuff? I dig his non fiction but Naked Lunch et al just feel like they exist for concept alone.

Jackie Kerouac is one.

Well, there are few writers whose personal life are so intertwined with his working methods & the resulting prose. I recommend the reader anthology WORD VIRUS to anyone who wants a good introduction to all of his work. It offers fragments from his whole career of writing, but always placed in a biographical perspective as well as an analysis of the writing techniques they introduced. And make no mistake: I still feel that there's no other artist from the 20th century (even counting Duchamp or Warhol) that has such a lasting impact on not just their own field of activity, but on culture as a whole. Whether it's music, film or other visual arts, his themes and techniques (imagine MTV without cut-up, or electronic music without sampling) resonate today as never before.
Weirdly enough, I feel Naked Lunch is one of the lesser experimental works. I personally consider The Western Lands to be his most accomplished book. Just full of great ideas, perfectly executed, and without a word too many.

(end derailment)

Rolling Rock?