Writer’s Wednesday: On the Road by Jack Kerouac
I normally enjoy reading classics – they are usually classics for a reason. Lately however, I have been disappointed. Les Miserables was long-winded and old-fashioned – but at least it had a beautiful story.
Last week I read On the Road by Jack Kerouac and it was such a disappointment. I had great expectations for it! Supposedly the “soul of the beat movement” (whatever that is), sounded great.
However I never got to care about any of the characters, and by the end I actually despised most of them. I know it was a different time, but no matter the time I can’t stand books that minimize violence against women or the purposeful destruction of other people’s property for no reason.
In my opinion, On the Road is a book about not caring at all about other people and the affect you have on their lives. Using people, their property and their money, and just do whatever you want.
I did enjoy the parts on living your own life, not the life other people want for you, and breaking with traditions, but to me that didn’t make up for the bad parts.
If you have read it, what did you make of it?
With that being said, there were still a few quotes I enjoyed.
But then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are 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 exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!’
And I said, ‘That last thing is what you can’t get, Carlo. Nobody can get to that last thing. We keep on living in hopes of catching it once for all.’
Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together; sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately without proper preliminary talk. Not courting talk – real straight talk about souls, for life is holy and every moment is precious.
This is the story of America. Everybody’s doing what they think they’re supposed to do.
A pain stabbed my heart, as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world.
because I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.