Paperback, 307 pages
English language
Published May 13, 1976 by Penguin Books.
Story of two restless young men in the late 1940s who cross and recross America, encountering parties, girls, drugs, loneliness and their own dreams along the way.
There are some interesting facts about this book that attracted me to read it. I first heard about it from Cory Doctorow's Little Brother. Then I found this page (dennismansker.com/ontheroad.htm) useful to put in context the journeys distance and the type of cars. The reading was entertaining and it is an interesting analysis on friendships.
I promise myself that I'll give at least 100 pages on any book I've read. And because I've heard so much about this one, I went a bit farther. But yikes, I had to quit--just couldn't get into it anymore.
There are some things I can appreciate with this book, and others I just can't grasp. I can appreciate the unique writing style, in the pacing of the story. There's something happening--or even very much NOT happening--on each page. What I can't grasp is the inconsistencies between thoughts and dialogue, how Sal, the narrator will be giving Dean's (or anyone's perspective) and it abruptly goes into the character talking. I can't word it better, and I barely got the gist of the dialogue.
All in all, I guess I tried to understand the characters, but they were just too much and not enough at the same time, as if they're …
I promise myself that I'll give at least 100 pages on any book I've read. And because I've heard so much about this one, I went a bit farther. But yikes, I had to quit--just couldn't get into it anymore.
There are some things I can appreciate with this book, and others I just can't grasp. I can appreciate the unique writing style, in the pacing of the story. There's something happening--or even very much NOT happening--on each page. What I can't grasp is the inconsistencies between thoughts and dialogue, how Sal, the narrator will be giving Dean's (or anyone's perspective) and it abruptly goes into the character talking. I can't word it better, and I barely got the gist of the dialogue.
All in all, I guess I tried to understand the characters, but they were just too much and not enough at the same time, as if they're confusing the hell out of themselves just by breathing, and we're experiencing that, too. If that was the goal, I guess the mission's accomplished. But I couldn't stick with it because it felt like "go on a trip on a whim, have crap happen, get in the dumps, go home, wash-rinse-repeat." I'd always read that this book was so iconic, but I guess I can't see it.
Who knows? Might be your cup of tea, too confusing to be mine (and I don't like feeling like I need drugs to understand what's going on, as some have suggested).
2.5 stars would be ideal. Mediocre. The start was only mildy interesting, but then the story got very repetitious. The main character kept doing essentially the same things over and over.
The road that leads nowhere.
I am not in the habit of criticizing books for the character of their characters, but in this case it is difficult not to do so since the book is practically autobiographical.
The inconsequence of the whole story, the improbable motivations of the characters to remain in constant movement and change and the glorification of poverty and suffering of those who cannot abandon their cycle of misery were by far the factors that bothered me the most and that made almost impossible to finish this book.
Certainly it's a book which marks a generation and that will have a special place in the heart of those who lived the beat movement, but personally I was unable to foster any compassion for any of the characters and the story seemed to me to be a diversion of rich boys, rebels without a cause.
The pseudo-neuroses of …
The road that leads nowhere.
I am not in the habit of criticizing books for the character of their characters, but in this case it is difficult not to do so since the book is practically autobiographical.
The inconsequence of the whole story, the improbable motivations of the characters to remain in constant movement and change and the glorification of poverty and suffering of those who cannot abandon their cycle of misery were by far the factors that bothered me the most and that made almost impossible to finish this book.
Certainly it's a book which marks a generation and that will have a special place in the heart of those who lived the beat movement, but personally I was unable to foster any compassion for any of the characters and the story seemed to me to be a diversion of rich boys, rebels without a cause.
The pseudo-neuroses of the poet Allen Ginsberg are practically impossible to digest.
I didn't hate it, but I didn't get it either. It's not a book you read for the plot, because there isn't really any to speak of. As I understand it, it's the thrill of the travel that's supposed to be the thing that gets you excited about this book, and while I enjoyed the descriptions of the continent from up close, overall, it didn't sound enjoyable or attractive to me at all. For example, descriptions of the pleasantness of being caked with dead bugs and covered in mosquito bites did not resonate with me at all.
My lack of enthusiasm might be explained by the fact that I haven't really heard of the "Beat Generation" before, and that while I enjoy visiting new and unfamiliar places, I do feel ready to go back home relatively quickly. In other words: your mileage may vary.
This is supposed to be such a seminal book, I was quite looking forward to it - a book that defined a generation, and blah blah blah.
Well, controversial opinion coming - this book is nonsense. I willed myself to finish it, but there's nothing to be gained from pulling yourself through this tangential and dull travel journal. The only character who is focused on is Dean, and even then we don't really understand why he's like what he is, or get any detail. We're told very little about anything else, and even if you were reading this to understand American history, there's precious little here. An utter waste of your time, I'm afraid. Sorry, and all that.
I left my copy of this unfinished in a phone booth at Hastings railway station in about 1966. I had found the style tedious and the characters unappealing. Neal Cassidy had a broken childhood, and became a broken man. Jack Kerouac seems to have stolen his voice, but not to have heard the driving terror that underlay it. Like Ginsberg, he wrote kitsch and called it rebellion.
This is a book about self-involved, selfish people who treat each other, and others, terribly. They don't so much as learn anything as they do simply get tired. I spent the entire book wondering how all the people they used, the people they stole from, the women they abandoned, were getting on; how they coped with the fallout from interacting with the main characters. I'd much rather read the dozens of books from their points of view.
I just want to jump in the car and drive! Aaargh. I wish I could live like that for a year.
Self-centered dude goes on a power road trip. You don't need to read this.
This was mentioned in the book Little Brother and some friends have mentioned this book before. I get the appeal of being on a road trip, but the perspective in this book was a little too ego-stroking.
On the Road is a semi autobiographical novel about Jack Kerouac’s travels through America. Set in 1947 the novel documents the travels of Sal Paradise with his friend Dean on a quest of self-knowledge and life experiences. This novel is often considered as the definitive ideal of the Beat generation and living life postwar. The Beat movement is a cultural movement which rejected a normal life for a bohemian lifestyle; this movement inspired jazz, poetry and literature. The non-conformity and spontaneous creativity as well as experimentation with drugs, alternative sexualities and interest in Eastern religions lead to the hippy movement in the 1960’s even though there are many differences.
On the Road is a novel of friendship, not just between Sal and Dean but the people that come and go from your life. Hitchhiking through America gives an opportunity to see this quickly; Sal meets new people all the time …
On the Road is a semi autobiographical novel about Jack Kerouac’s travels through America. Set in 1947 the novel documents the travels of Sal Paradise with his friend Dean on a quest of self-knowledge and life experiences. This novel is often considered as the definitive ideal of the Beat generation and living life postwar. The Beat movement is a cultural movement which rejected a normal life for a bohemian lifestyle; this movement inspired jazz, poetry and literature. The non-conformity and spontaneous creativity as well as experimentation with drugs, alternative sexualities and interest in Eastern religions lead to the hippy movement in the 1960’s even though there are many differences.
On the Road is a novel of friendship, not just between Sal and Dean but the people that come and go from your life. Hitchhiking through America gives an opportunity to see this quickly; Sal meets new people all the time and just like that they are gone from his life; their impact on Sal may very but it really is a good way to show the effects people have without having to scratch a story over a few years. Then there is the friendship between Sal and Dean, it’s clear to me that Sal is idolising his friend and his need to be just like him is really not helping him to grow. Sal does grow through the book but it never feels like Dean has, this really changes the dynamic of their friendship as the book goes on.
This is also a book on the ideals of the beatniks; they are young and wanting to experience life, learn from their experiences. But underneath it all Sal feels unhappy. Either alone, in a relationship or just having casual hook-ups, Sal is never content. The only time I ever feel like Sal is enjoying himself is when he is having intellectual conversations, but he never really works out how to channel that passion to make his life mean something, I did think he would find contentment in writing but he never really does. The characters feel they should learn from life instead of books and this leads more to sex, substance abuse and even madness seem to be the end results of their experiences rather than knowledge.
While some might think this is a rather boring novel, I tend to think there is so much in the book worth exploring. I like the style and feel of this book, it reminds me of dirty realism and the quest for knowledge and satisfaction in life really hit home for me. My past experiences are nothing like those of Sal or Kerouac’s but there is something so real and raw about this book that I enjoyed. Overall it was interesting to read the book as a manifesto to the beat generation.
This review originally appeared on my blog; literary-exploration.com/2012/12/30/book-of-the-month-on-the-road/
I this straight-forward approach. Gives kind of a feeling how one as to spend live.
Sorry, I just don't get it.(27)
I hate this book. It is without a doubt the most overrated American book ever. I want to punch this book in the face.
I wasn't very impressed with this novel, though the descriptions of jazz were perfect.
