While life continues apace, I thought I'd jot down a few musings on a book I recently digested and thoroughly enjoyed, Jack Kerouac's On the Road. The book's place as a cultural document reflecting the mood of it's era is assured, and I do not doubt thousands upon thousands of words have been written critiquing it to the smallest detail. Here's my $0.02.
It took me some time to really get into the book, but once I adjusted to Kerouac's 'kickwriting' style of prose it just grabs you and you are dragged along through the travels and travails of Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty as they criss-cross the United States from New York to San Francisco thrice over, fueled by a desire for new experiences and new sensations.
The first reel of writing Kerouac wrote stretched over 120 feet of taped-together typewriter paper, rattled through at a blistering pace in less than a month. Despite being heavily revised for the print copy, it retains an unwavering momentum as our protagonist is drawn inexorably over new horizons by the wild Moriarty. The text zips and crackles and pops, evoking sweating madnesses soaked in whisky and blistering jazz, the thrill of travel and pushing on to the next vista. The crazy sensationism of it, the pure revelry of 'being' and 'existing' and indulging every single sense to the point of exhaustion, is breathtaking.
It's an exhilarating read, and it's easy to see how it inspired so many to follow Sal's path and hitchhike to parts unknown, to break out of the boundaries of 'straight' living and just follow the road. It made me long to live in that era, despite the inherent problems and difficulties the characters face, but also gives a glorious sense of the ptoential these people had, or rather of what they could do, of what life can offer.
If I had to pick a time to read this, a mindset with which to approach it, it's quite simply perfect for when you're setting out on a holiday, a journey, or any situation where you will travel. I read it on the way to Wales, and it imbued me with an appreciation for the marvel of travel and the experiences I might otherwise have ignored.
Kerouac: a legend for a tremendously good reason!
It took me some time to really get into the book, but once I adjusted to Kerouac's 'kickwriting' style of prose it just grabs you and you are dragged along through the travels and travails of Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty as they criss-cross the United States from New York to San Francisco thrice over, fueled by a desire for new experiences and new sensations.
The first reel of writing Kerouac wrote stretched over 120 feet of taped-together typewriter paper, rattled through at a blistering pace in less than a month. Despite being heavily revised for the print copy, it retains an unwavering momentum as our protagonist is drawn inexorably over new horizons by the wild Moriarty. The text zips and crackles and pops, evoking sweating madnesses soaked in whisky and blistering jazz, the thrill of travel and pushing on to the next vista. The crazy sensationism of it, the pure revelry of 'being' and 'existing' and indulging every single sense to the point of exhaustion, is breathtaking.
It's an exhilarating read, and it's easy to see how it inspired so many to follow Sal's path and hitchhike to parts unknown, to break out of the boundaries of 'straight' living and just follow the road. It made me long to live in that era, despite the inherent problems and difficulties the characters face, but also gives a glorious sense of the ptoential these people had, or rather of what they could do, of what life can offer.
If I had to pick a time to read this, a mindset with which to approach it, it's quite simply perfect for when you're setting out on a holiday, a journey, or any situation where you will travel. I read it on the way to Wales, and it imbued me with an appreciation for the marvel of travel and the experiences I might otherwise have ignored.
Kerouac: a legend for a tremendously good reason!