The Subterraneans by Jack Kerouac (1994)

totally pointless. ( )

So I've never liked Kerouac, but Bryan recommended this one, and I found I had a copy of it, thus I read it. And it seems pretty honestly written, the relationship drama is palatable and relatable, but it doesn't really detract from the overall impression that Kerouac is a jackass who needs to quit drinking so much, quit thinking his weasely lay about friends are impossibly cool, and come to terms with his mother and his morals. Also, the way he writes about women and his weird pseudo-romantic equating of women-as-followers and "wifelikeness" make me cringe a bit on the inside. ( )

The Subterraneans showcases Kerouac's jazzy, improvisational slang-laden stream-of-consciousness prose. It took a few pages to adjust my internal dialog to the 1950s sub-cultural vernacular and adapt to the pacing and rhythm of Kerouac's writing. ( )

"Jack Kerouac, always the poetic messenger, writes his stories of hitch hiking and jazz bar scenes using his fictional self in this look at the subterranean beatniks. Poor men and women looking to art for their inspiration, these poets and jazz musicians create an atmosphere of bliss for Kerouac; whose love for spontaneous prose is what he observes to be as purity. Many of Keroauc's friends like Ginsberg, Corso, Cassidy and Soloman are all present as fictional characters. 'The Subterraneans' stands as probably the nex best novel next to 'On the Road'. read it with pride and a sense of beat rythym."