May 28, 2009

Book 23: On the Road

On the Road
Jack Kerouac

With this book comes an absolutely overwhelming amount of expectations and weight- this is a contender for the Great American Novel and is certainly the foremost testament of a particular generation. The Beat generation defined by this novel is listless and lost, though with a drug-induced air of weight and self-importance that manifests itself in a restless spiritual manifestation represented by an ever-earnest "Yes!". As the subject, so the novel, whose writing is rich and vibrant but always incredibly aware of itself and pretentious in its lack of pretension. The book begins in earnest with its narrator, Sal, enthralled by Dean, a mysterious newcomer to his New York City social scene. Sal is overly fawning and describes Dean in exquisite detail while relegating his other friends to cursory descriptions or name only, leaving the reader to attempt to sort out their personalities as they're all bundled together into a mob of disaffected twentysomethings. Kerouac offers almost nothing in the way of explicit description, which is usually desirable, but the ramblings of his friends make so little sense that a little context would be greatly appreciated. Much of the novel is mired in existential ponderings that quickly give way to unwarranted whirlwind worship of Dean that is at odds with both common sense and the general narrative.

Perhaps I found this book less than wonderful because of my hearty dislike for Sal, who is content to sit alone and brood upon his position in life while complaining that he is an outsider. He worships free-wheeling and careless Dean while taking a realistic look at his life and motivations and concluding that Dean is headed for self-destruction. Sal then proceeds to follow Dean's footsteps exactly and allows himself to get trangled in Dean's complicated web time and again. While the portrait of this essentially "beat" character is a powerful evocation of the Beat Generation and its furious path across America, it itself succumbs to the same pitfalls and failures that plague Dean; this failure of the narrative seems un-ironic, as the book is entirely earnest throughout. While Kerouac's prose is often moving and evocative, particularly when he is describing the effect jazz musicians have on Sal's life and outlook and when he is hitchhiking on his first cross-country journey, it often gets lost in its own grandiosity and a rush to explain everything poetically right this second. While this is a good manifestation of the kind of rush one can get from amphetamines and mirrors the experiences of the drug-using characters of the novel, it becomes tiresome to the reader as pointless ramblings give way to two-sentence plot elements that are far more interesting but far too short and disconnected from the fabric of the book.

The book, like its characters, seems to lack motivation. The best parts of the narrative are those that have consistent plotting and which move the characters. Sal's first trip out West is a beautiful testament to the power and unlimited possibility of the open road and an open future. Readers fly across the country with Sal before he succumbs to the listlessness of Dean's life in Denver. After this point, it is hard to have any sympathy for any of the characters and the reader becomes detached, hoping for some appropriate self-reflection or sensical plot elements where instead there is shameless hero worship and endless cruising around cities looking for "kicks" but without any incidents of interest. The book is, ultimately, a product of the kinds of characters it follows, who are largely unsympathetic and ridiculously immature. There are passages within to stir the soul, and readers who stick to part one will find a glorious description of life without cares on the open road, a kind of optimism that brilliantly showcases the pride and problems that come with outcast status in a largely conforming society. After that, however, the book becomes bogged down by its own sense of importance and becomes somewhat difficult to read and follow. On the Road rightly deserves its place as a generation-defining manifesto, echoing in each chaotic beat the kind of character it defines and follows, but this relentless energy knows no boundaries and lacks a kind of binding sense and dissolves into a kind of hopeless rave that could come stright from the mouth of Dean.

Grade: C+

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