Big Sur

A wonderful read

It’s difficult to know what to say about Kerouac as a person or as an author. He creates the most vivid, honest, pointed observations about people and their condition, and yet at times it is easy to be baffled by his observations. The Kerouac he presents in this story is a very different one than he presents in, say, Maggie Cassidy. You see all the personal growth (collapse) that occurs through his life with each book, and it gives the sense of the dynamic and fluid state of personality.

This book very much keeps along those lines. We start by watching the self-reliant Kerouac escape his new found fame from On The Road by fleeing to his friend’s cabin in the hilly forests along the coast of central California. He fills pages and pages with his experiences and observations in the solitude and slow pace of life in the forest. The Kerouac of his childhood on display - self sufficient and reliant, working with his hands, letting life pass by while tending to his own psyche.

Of course, in true Kerouac style, eventually he begins to bring in other characters, and almost immediately he begins a gradual downward spiral, influenced by his friends who in no way attempt to influence him. Soon enough, a very different Kerouac emerges, and we watch in slow, fantastic, dread-filled awe as he descends faster and faster into a self-induced breakdown.

I wanted to give this book five stars but I had to hesitate, because the end is so abrupt and strangely dissatisfying. It is Kerouac through and through, but unlike Maggie Cassidy or Dr. Sax, which leave you with the sense that, sure, it’s a bit of a downer of an ending but seems befitting of his character, this feels almost forced, almost an afterthought.

At any rate, a very good read which will leave you thinking.