This was fantastic! I share your grief at seeing how "safe" people often play it these days, bowing to conformity and orthodoxy. It's anodyne and soul-crushing.
A terrific piece of writing. Thank you. The desire to just do things, crazy things, as exemplified by Neil Cassidy (what a wild figure, if there has ever been one), is no longer there or maybe it’s just changed.
A thoroughly moving, marvelous essay. I am experiencing varying waves of nostalgia, romance, and wistfulness for a past that isn't what it used to be. Thank you.
Wonderful, just wonderful write up, Mr. Gioia! I have always carried Kerouac in my heart since reading "On The Road" and "Dharma Bums" in high school in the early 80s and feeling like I too was Beat and looking for that endless road.
I think I identified with Kerouac and Sal Paradise so strongly because I didn't want to BE Dean Moriarty but I definitely wanted to be along for the ride.
I wanted to meet and be around those: "the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles"
The definition of that changes as we grow older, but we bums still look for it. He was a beautiful soul, and inspired so many.
Mar 14, 2022·edited Mar 14, 2022Liked by Ted Gioia
Thank you! I loved Kerouac growing up, and I really appreciated the thoughtfulness of this two-part post. I would love to hear your thoughts about Kerouac's treatment of women (both in life and writing). It took me most of my twenties to figure out that gender was at the root of a lot of the alienation and distance I felt from many of my favorite books and authors, particularly Kerouac. I'm eager to hear a take on Kerouac that can accommodate both his genius and the complicated legacy he leaves for female readers like myself.
This was a great piece. I was especially pleased to see the mention of Big Sur. The house where Jack wrote that is now the Jack Kerouac House in Orlando, Florida and it serves as a writer's residency. (We even have the chair that Jack drank himself to death in while he was in St. Petersburg.)
I was fortunate enough to be the Spring 2016 writer-in-residence at the house, and now sit on their board of directors. I even got to visit Lowell, Mass. a few years ago for their annual Lowell Celebrates Kerouac festival where I got to speak a couple times about my experience at the house and what we're doing as a board. It's great to see that he's still getting so much attention. Thank you for a great piece, Ted!
Hi ,Ted. Excellent article. I would just like to comment that I miss a reference to Henry Miller, who, (it seems to me) really conquered Kerouac's dream of individual and revolutionary liberation, and, on top of that, wrote much better. Despite his bravado anti-Americanism, Henry Miller has always struck me as the true heir of Whitman, Emerson, Thoreau, the epitome of individualistic (and democratic) American freedom.
Seventy - five pages in, I wondered why I was reading On the Road. It seemed as if it were the diary of an Irish Setter ( known to run up to 400 miles a day if possible ) - went here, went there, back 'n' forth - and with not much more depth than an Irish Setter diarist would manifest. But somehow, the book deepened, and it has some great segments: the account of their trip on the turnpike system leading to Chicago, their night at Anita O'Day's club in Chicago, their matinee at the movie theater in Detroit. It also has a last page which I think is as remarkable as the last page of The Great Gatsby. Still, the whole seems less than the sum of its parts. And I think he was just damned irresponsible in not doing what almost every other able bodied man of his generation did, looking for a steady job which would lead to a career. I couldn't care less how unhip that sounds. There's nothing more unhip than a healthy man's shirking - oh yes - responsibility. As if Kerouac were the only man of his generation who might have needed to have a day job to support himself, his dependents, and his quiet desperation, which he could have fought off in writing. Your statement that he had little real imagination explains the impossibility of that, I guess. He needed to be unemployed in order to go rambling. So, he had those outbursts of activity and spent the rest of his life doing what, exactly?
He's quoted, I suppose accurately, as saying to a friend, "Isn't it interesting how all the great writers know one another?" which is as psychologically revealing a comment as could be.
I'm sorry. There was real talent there, but to me, he remains the lifelong wannabe, the 17 year old kid you're thrilled to be on somewhat personal terms with when you're 16 because he seems just the coolest guy you could imagine.
It's funny to me that Kerouac:
1. was convinced The Beatles had copped the basis of their name from him, and
2. was born the same year as Bob Dole.
Did Brando ever reply to Kerouac. I'd guess not. One great poseur would have recognized another.
I am drawn to Kerouac, his gift for expressing both his inner fears and habitual failure to satisfy obligations over his lifetime empower me to be less hard on myself. I am also a shy introverted
outsider but lack the ability to come to life with captivating prose. Jack appeared to be the consummate deadbeat to most people around him, no job, no paycheck, no car, daytime drunkard,
non existent father figure, subservient to his roommate mother....probably difficult to admire the man
if you lived next door to him. I read and re-read my Kerouac library over and over, but just the same
three books, some of his books I didn't connect with, so I'm not an allegiant disciple, just a spellbound onlooker from across the room(shy)
This was fantastic! I share your grief at seeing how "safe" people often play it these days, bowing to conformity and orthodoxy. It's anodyne and soul-crushing.
Thank you Ted. I think it is now time for me to dig out the old copy and read it again afresh.
A terrific piece of writing. Thank you. The desire to just do things, crazy things, as exemplified by Neil Cassidy (what a wild figure, if there has ever been one), is no longer there or maybe it’s just changed.
Hellfire - what a fantastic piece of work. I take my hat off to you and lay it on the table.
A thoroughly moving, marvelous essay. I am experiencing varying waves of nostalgia, romance, and wistfulness for a past that isn't what it used to be. Thank you.
fantastic
Amen
Just wanted to say that this blog has been a great follow. Came for the music business analysis, got hooked by the literature discussion.
Wonderful, just wonderful write up, Mr. Gioia! I have always carried Kerouac in my heart since reading "On The Road" and "Dharma Bums" in high school in the early 80s and feeling like I too was Beat and looking for that endless road.
I think I identified with Kerouac and Sal Paradise so strongly because I didn't want to BE Dean Moriarty but I definitely wanted to be along for the ride.
I wanted to meet and be around those: "the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles"
The definition of that changes as we grow older, but we bums still look for it. He was a beautiful soul, and inspired so many.
Thank you! I loved Kerouac growing up, and I really appreciated the thoughtfulness of this two-part post. I would love to hear your thoughts about Kerouac's treatment of women (both in life and writing). It took me most of my twenties to figure out that gender was at the root of a lot of the alienation and distance I felt from many of my favorite books and authors, particularly Kerouac. I'm eager to hear a take on Kerouac that can accommodate both his genius and the complicated legacy he leaves for female readers like myself.
This was a great piece. I was especially pleased to see the mention of Big Sur. The house where Jack wrote that is now the Jack Kerouac House in Orlando, Florida and it serves as a writer's residency. (We even have the chair that Jack drank himself to death in while he was in St. Petersburg.)
I was fortunate enough to be the Spring 2016 writer-in-residence at the house, and now sit on their board of directors. I even got to visit Lowell, Mass. a few years ago for their annual Lowell Celebrates Kerouac festival where I got to speak a couple times about my experience at the house and what we're doing as a board. It's great to see that he's still getting so much attention. Thank you for a great piece, Ted!
Beautiful. Thank you.
Hi ,Ted. Excellent article. I would just like to comment that I miss a reference to Henry Miller, who, (it seems to me) really conquered Kerouac's dream of individual and revolutionary liberation, and, on top of that, wrote much better. Despite his bravado anti-Americanism, Henry Miller has always struck me as the true heir of Whitman, Emerson, Thoreau, the epitome of individualistic (and democratic) American freedom.
Dizzy Gillespie - Kerouac https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H2EMH02JhBg
Seventy - five pages in, I wondered why I was reading On the Road. It seemed as if it were the diary of an Irish Setter ( known to run up to 400 miles a day if possible ) - went here, went there, back 'n' forth - and with not much more depth than an Irish Setter diarist would manifest. But somehow, the book deepened, and it has some great segments: the account of their trip on the turnpike system leading to Chicago, their night at Anita O'Day's club in Chicago, their matinee at the movie theater in Detroit. It also has a last page which I think is as remarkable as the last page of The Great Gatsby. Still, the whole seems less than the sum of its parts. And I think he was just damned irresponsible in not doing what almost every other able bodied man of his generation did, looking for a steady job which would lead to a career. I couldn't care less how unhip that sounds. There's nothing more unhip than a healthy man's shirking - oh yes - responsibility. As if Kerouac were the only man of his generation who might have needed to have a day job to support himself, his dependents, and his quiet desperation, which he could have fought off in writing. Your statement that he had little real imagination explains the impossibility of that, I guess. He needed to be unemployed in order to go rambling. So, he had those outbursts of activity and spent the rest of his life doing what, exactly?
He's quoted, I suppose accurately, as saying to a friend, "Isn't it interesting how all the great writers know one another?" which is as psychologically revealing a comment as could be.
I'm sorry. There was real talent there, but to me, he remains the lifelong wannabe, the 17 year old kid you're thrilled to be on somewhat personal terms with when you're 16 because he seems just the coolest guy you could imagine.
It's funny to me that Kerouac:
1. was convinced The Beatles had copped the basis of their name from him, and
2. was born the same year as Bob Dole.
Did Brando ever reply to Kerouac. I'd guess not. One great poseur would have recognized another.
The guy should have become a Trappist monk.
I am drawn to Kerouac, his gift for expressing both his inner fears and habitual failure to satisfy obligations over his lifetime empower me to be less hard on myself. I am also a shy introverted
outsider but lack the ability to come to life with captivating prose. Jack appeared to be the consummate deadbeat to most people around him, no job, no paycheck, no car, daytime drunkard,
non existent father figure, subservient to his roommate mother....probably difficult to admire the man
if you lived next door to him. I read and re-read my Kerouac library over and over, but just the same
three books, some of his books I didn't connect with, so I'm not an allegiant disciple, just a spellbound onlooker from across the room(shy)