Customer Reviews

The Awakener: A Memoir of Kerouac and the Fifties

5 star:		(19)
4 star:		(2)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

There are other Kerouac books, and some are quite good at helping us know about him. Helen Weaver's book helps us to know him. Weaver tells us that it took her decades to finish the book for lots of reasons, but I think the most important was sorting out her feelings for him and about his uniqueness as a person, a lover, and a writer. Read this book. You will, as I have, want to go back and read some of Kerouac's books again, and find more than you did the first time. If you read "On the Road" as a stream of consciousness diary of Kerouac's life, and not much more, you'll change your mind after "The Awakener."

We also meet Lenny Bruce, Gregory Corso, Lucien Carr, Allen Ginsberg, and Helen Elliott, Weaver's roommate who introduced her to Kerouac and Ginsberg.

Anyone who was around the Beats, or is interested in them, will want to read this book. Others will just find it to be a captivating, well written memoir. Weaver lived in interesting times, and knew amazing people. She writes like she wants to tell us all about it, and wants us to understand.

In The Awakener Helen Weaver details her relationships in the 50's, after she moved from her parent's suburban New York home to Greenwich Village. Through her roommate, Helen Elliott (the were known as the two Helen's), she gets to know Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso, and Lucien Carr. Weaver gives a very intimate portrait of Kerouac through her writing. I got a sense of what it was like to know Kerouac, and see what a different individual he was. I don`t think I`ve ever seen Kerouac portrayed in any other book so clearly as a person before.

In the 60's she works on the defense of Lenny Bruce during his obscenity trial and she delves into that relationship as well. Since she knew Bruce for so short a time, only a small portion of the book is dedicated to their relationship.

Throughout the book she mixes just the right amount of hindsight with contemporaneous remembrances. Shes honest about her reactions and feelings at the times of the events and how she's come to terms with the events that so changed her life. And includes one of the most astute observations I've read in a while "When civilizations are young, they value their cities. When they become decadent, they value nature."

The Awakener isn't just a memoir about the events of her affairs with Kerouac and Bruce. It's more her relationships with them were brief. Most of the book is a meditation on how Kerouac and Elliott changed her life for the better, the worse and how she's come to terms with them and made her peace with them and the events of her earlier life in later years. The memoir is seamless from the meditations and Weaver's writing is never dull when the main characters recede from her life. They may have physically been gone but they're with her still and she translates this well to the reader.

I am Jack Kerouac's #1 fan. That should establish the credibility of my saying that this is one of the most important books about Jack that has been published to date. Helen Weaver's memoir is indescribably delicious reading, full of details about her life "boheme" in Greenwich Village, including very personal encounters with Jack Kerouac and the other beat writers. Her voice is authentic, reflective, detailed, and engaging. I can't recommend this book enough.

Quality over Quantity and Intimacy over Biography equals Quintessential Authority...

One sunny day in Lowell, Massachusetts at AEOLIA: WHOLE FOODS - the health food store I used to own and run single-handedly 70 hours a week in the 1990's - a very graceful and perceptive lady walked into the store through my front door. I heard the cowbells ring, the church bells chime, and the windsock flutter in the breeze as I turned around to say, "How can I help you?" ... She was smiling, elegant, and very warm-hearted. We became friends instantly. ... She said her name was Helen when I introduced myself as George, and she was happy to find a natural food store in downtown Lowell. When she found out that I was the nephew of Billy Koumantzelis - a dear and close friend of Jack Kerouac's - as well as a musician, a fan of The Grateful Dead, and a serious student of astrology, we entered into a conversation that went on for quite some time. Though we were interrupted by other customers, the conversation was mutually enlightening and enjoyable - and it continues to this day.

Helen said to me that she and Jack Kerouac had been in love with each other at one time, that they had become very close, had lived together, and that she and Jack had even made a trip together to the home of her mother and father so that they could meet their possible future son-in-law. This was serious. ... I had never heard of this part of Jack's life before, and I was intrigued to hear more of her personal story and tales about Jack. But my store was very busy, Helen had things to do, and there was not enough time to continue talking for much longer. Nevertheless, I never forgot about her telling me that she was planning on writing a book about her life with Jack Kerouac, and I encouraged her to work on it, pointing out that her story would be a valuable one for the world to know. She appreciated hearing that, smiled, wished me well, and after getting the food she had come to buy, walked out the door waving goodbye, thanking me for our talk together, and wishing me good luck. I can still see her twinkling eyes and tender smile.

That was over 20 years ago, and over the years I often wondered if Helen ever wrote her book. I would occasionally enter her name into Lycos, Alta Vista, Ask Jeeves, and other search engines that have come and gone and, regrettably, would never be able to find anything on her book - until now ... Heaven be praised ... Thank goodness and all the positive vibrations that exude from it, for Helen Weaver has finally completed her book about her life with Jack Kerouac and her other friends and lovers, and it is a true gem It is even published by Lawrence Ferlinghetti's City Lights Books. It is 260 pages long. But don't let that fool you into thinking that it is shallow in any way. The commentary and reflections in this book are as deep as it gets, and the level of utter intimacy and lucidity of writing brings it to the masterful level of being one of the rare books about Jack Kerouac (like David Amram's) that earn the respect of being called quintessentially authoritative to the highest degree of literary integrity. This is genuine, first-hand, I-was-there, primary research of the highest order and purest sociological and historical authenticity that one can come across. This is as real as it gets! Helen Weaver pulls no punches. In fact, I can say with full authority that she and my uncle, Billy Koumantzelis, may be the only two people I know who ever punched Jack Kerouac in the face! True. ... He deserved it, too. But you'll have to read the book - a real labor of love - to find out why.

I both laughed and cried when I read what Helen wrote here on page 188 of this most insightful and delightful book that is written by someone who knows how to use the English language both eloquently and artfully. It really hit home! ...

"In the spring of 1990 I went to Lowell to work with the Kerouac archives at the University there. At Mogan Cultural Center, which houses the University's library, I saw Jack's rucksack and typewriter inside a glass display case. I was kneeling before this shrine and making a list of everything that was in his rucksack when some school children came through on a tour. I must have looked like a statue because their teacher said, "We thought you were part of the display."

I said, "I am!"

Gerald Nicosia had given me permission to listen to tapes of the interviews he had done for his biography of Jack and to make copies of the transcripts he had made. Standing at the copy machine with headphones on I heard Helen Ellicott's voice for the first time in years. I could hear the ice in her glass tinkling on the tape. I remembered that Nicosia had told me she kept him up all night talking and drinking.

I learned that when Jack called her up in the middle of the night she did not brush him off as I had done. For her it was a point of honor never to hang up on Jack Kerouac. I was glad that one of the Helens was available when he was so lonely in the last years of his life.

Someone had made a tape of Jack reading from Doctor Sax and Old Angel Midnight with the bluest of Sinatra's albums, In the Wee Small Hours, playing in the background. Jack would break off from time to time to sing along with Frank, harmonizing on "I Get Along Without You Very Well," occasionally singing alone with the orchestra. When he sang, "Look at you: if you had a sense of humor, you would laugh to beat the band," he sounded so much like Frank it was impossible to tell the difference.

I stood there with the headphones on, xeroxing and weeping." ...

Reading the above passage from Helen's book moved me immensely. On a summer trip back home to Lowell in 2005 to visit my family before my father passed away, I made a point to visit the Mogan Cultural Center on French Street - right up the street from the Jack Kerouac Memorial Park on Bridge Street (where my girlfriend of the time and I had our first "date") - in order to take Polaroid photographs of the sign for TATSIOS Restaurant that is hanging in the museum at Mogan. On arriving there with my good friend, Peter Simopoulos, we both were amazed to see that the very sign that I myself carved and made with my own hands is hanging right over this very glass case that Helen writes about - the one containing Jack Kerouac's famous dharma-bum rucksack and old, black, manual typewriter. This blew my mind!

Helen Weaver probably understands the psyche of Jack Kerouac better than most other living human beings who had the pleasure of knowing him as a lover or as a friend. She really "get's it!" Not only does she get it because she has taken the time to reflect back and contemplate on the whole gestalt of those times from a personal perspective but also because she really has dove deeply over the course of a lifetime into the study of astrology. The last section of her wonderful book contains a section called An Astrological Appendix, and I would encourage you to take the time to read it slowly and carefully. I once said to Anne Waldman, when she recently came to Lowell in the fall of 2009 during a Lowell Celebrates Kerouac symposium at the National Park Visitor's Center, that it probably would take another Pisces as deep as Jack Kerouac himself to fully understand the depth of his personality - for only another blue whale who can swim out into the deepest parts of the oceans could fathom the depths of the soul of a deep blue whale like a third decanate Pisces that Jack Kerouac was: a mutable communicator of communicators. Well, Helen Weaver - even though she is not a Pisces - comes as close as it gets to unraveling the mysterious nature of Ti Jean Luis de Kerouac - and God bless for for it!

She writes on page 227 ...

"Kerouac's writing is about taking in everything that's happening even when nothing seems to be happening. It's not about plot or action; with few exceptions, it's not even about character. It's about perception. It's about consciousness, and mortality, and compassion. It's a meditation on life."

Indeed! ... My uncle Billy Koumantzelis adamantly asserts with all of his force that his friend Jack was "a genius" - and he is not one to use that word lightly, as he is a man of very few words. Recently, Rodger Brunnelle and I were talking about Jack and his style of writing during a viewing of the new, excellent film about Jack's novel, Big Sur, called One Fast Move Or I'm Gone (the best film ever made about Jack Kerouac so far!), and we both came to the conclusion that reading Jack's writing (to be read aloud, by the way) is like watching a moving movie camera with constant commentary by the author, Jack, on both what is happening outside his head along the same time with what is happening inside his head, written with humor, grace, and in a musical rhythm like Homer may have done circa 800 BC. Jack was part of the great oral tradition of poetry.

Long may his words be read aloud! ... Long may people be able to read about him and all of his words in great books about him like this fine and truly wonderful book of Helen Weaver's! ... YOWZA! - George Koumantzelis / The Aeolian Kid

Helen Weaver writes with warmth and candor about Kerouac, the fifties and quite a bit more. The Awakener references Dan Wakefield's New York in the Fifties and Joyce Johnson's Minor Characters, acknowledging Weaver's debt to these writers and their books. Certainly this is a memoir in the same vein, but there's something surprisingly fresh about it. Weaver's point of view and unique sympathies make this a brand new story. Instead of a rehash of the same old Kerouac episodes, this book offers poet and translator Richard Howard, a visit to Robert Lowell and Elizabeth Hardwick, a night at Brecht's Threepenny Opera starring Lotte Lenya, the comedy routines of Lord Buckley and Lenny Bruce, Screamin' Jay Hawkins singing "I Put a Spell on You," and how Leonard Bernstein helped the author become orgasmic.

Weaver writes very well, with a light touch and a sense of humor. She shares some funny lines from friends and colleagues of the fifties, when she lived in Greenwich Village and worked briefly for Paradigm Books and then for five years at Farrar, Strauss. Included are some interesting anecdotes about Roger Strauss, Robert Giroux and others. She doesn't pull punches with regard to failings and foibles--her own and others'--but her recollections seem to hold no bitterness or recrimination. It would appear she has learned to forgive and remember.

The Awakener. What a perfect title this is. For Helen Weaver has skillfully woven a book out of awakenings.

First, this is a brilliant memoir of her own continual wakening from her sheltered life in Scarsdale through her involvement in the nascent Beat scene of the 1950's. Indeed the Beats were, themselves, the bellwethers of an awakening from the deadly sleep walking of the McCarthy and immediate post World War II period.

On this voyage there is her tumultuous relationship with Jack Kerouac. But even here the uniqueness of the author's perspective shines through. The book opens with Helen sitting on the john in her pajamas as Jack Kerouac and Alan Ginsburg knock, for the first time, on her door.

The author does not take herself too seriously at any point. That makes this memoir all the more appealing. How easy it would be to name drop. After all, in the course of The Awakener, the author has known most of the shining lights of the 1950's Beat awakening. And they are there, of course, but as living, breathing human beings with their foibles and frailties, not as icons. In fact I found myself more interested in the author, whose voice is so clear and authentic, than in the famous people who storm, drink, stroll, smoke and screw their way in and out of the pages. There is not a single insincere note in this memoir.

The Awakener is also a piece of historical writing. Good biography and autobiography have always been the most engaging forms of historiography. This is true of The Awakener. No historical account of the Beat period could be more engaging and clear than this personal account. Even the prosecution of Lenny Bruce takes on new meaning in Helen Weaver's account. She was involved in Bruce's defense and came to know him as well. In fact, the 1950's come alive through the eyes of the author. I suspect that historians will use this book as an entry point into the culture of the period following World War II.

Finally, The Awakener is a bright and polished work of literature. It does not try to be and that is its success. She has reached down deep into her own story and, in so doing, has touched us all. And her voice rings so very true.

Twenty-six years ago, the author reviewed several books on the Beats and the 1950's. She remembers asking, "When was I going to tell my own story in my own voice." Helen Weaver provides her own resounding answer in The Awakener.

I have had an interest in Jack Kerouac - anyone who hasn't read "on the road" should asap. This book brought me up to date, so to speak, and will no doubt lead me to other Kerouac works I would not otherwise have attempted, with new appreciation. Historically important. By the way, Helen Weaver's story is a wonderful story as well, and this should become a classic, unique and life affirming, I am happy to say. Beautifully told: young and innocent, funny, sad...old and wise, I was very much impressed. After reading this book, I gave it to my wife to read. Highly recommended.

"The Awaener" is a magical memoir that brings back "New York in the Fifties" in the most personal, vivid, memorable way - I know, I was there!
Dan Wakefield

The Awakener serves as a kind of prequel to Joyce Johnson's much fuller memoir of the King of the Beats, since Kerouac jilted Helen Weaver to take up with Johnson. Weaver spent only two months in Kerouac's company, but she milks those sixty days to create a vivid picture of her own experience of the 1950s. In the following decade she had an even briefer encounter with the radical comedian Lenny Bruce, and in that case too she manages to eke out an interesting portrait of the era. Like Johnson and the other women who write about Kerouac--including his first two wives--Weaver recognized that Kerouac had reserved his heart for only one woman: his mother. All "Kerouac's women" are able in retrospect to discuss his obvious flaws, but they are also able to recapture the romance that made a writer like Kerouac so appealing--not to mention his good looks. The title of Weaver's book is somewhat misleading, because she was already well on the way to her awakening when Kerouac turned up at her apartment door in November 1956. Like Joyce Johnson, Weaver was trying to escape the tedium and repression of a middle-class upbringing, in her case in Scarsdale. But the seeds of rebellion lay within her own heart and mind. Else why would she have taken up with an itinerant Bohemian artist? What she gives the reader adds little to our understanding of Kerouac, although her book, as I say, makes an interesting contrast with Johnson's, which chronicles the meteoric rise to fame that undid Kerouac's fragile alcoholic personality. The interest in Helen Weaver's life lies in her discovery that, like the Buddha, she is her own awakener. She has many interesting things to say about her dissatisfaction with conventional organized religion, and she shows how her quest for freedom of lifestyle led through Kerouac and Bruce to her own independent spiritual realization, as well as to a distinguished career as a translator of French literature. The Awakener now takes its rightful place among the work already done by women scholars, friends, and lovers of Kerouac. Too bad we will never get memoirs from the women who knew him best: his sister, Caroline, his third wife, Stella, and most of all, Gabrielle, his beloved memere. Still, it is the height of cultural irony that the reputation of such a macho--even misogynistic--writer as Jack Kerouac has been for many years under the firm control of such women admirers as Carolyn Cassady, Ann Charters, Joyce Johnson, Ann Douglas, Regina Weinreich, and now Helen Weaver. It's a distinguished company, and together these women have created one of the most objective feminist depictions of any male writer in the history of literature.

In his autobiographical novel DESOLATION ANGELS Jack Kerouac wrote about returning to New York from a trip to Mexico City in the fall of 1956 and straight away meeting up with the young Ruth Heaper, who was to become his new girlfriend. Ruth Heaper was Kerouac's pseudonym for Helen Weaver, who now tells her own story of that encounter, and much more, in this long-awaited book. Having read some of Helen's reminiscences of those times in Dan Wakefield's NEW YORK IN THE FIFTIES I was hungry for more, and THE AWAKENER certainly delivers. Not only do we get a blow-by-blow account of her times with Kerouac, and later with Lenny Bruce, but also much fascinating background material on what it was like living in Greenwich Village in the 1950s. As well as Kerouac, Helen Weaver knew his friends Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso, Lucien Carr, and others, and there's much here about them, including a wonderful description of the crazy genius who was the bohemian ethnomusicologist and experimental filmmaker, Harry Smith.

New to me was Kerouac's liking for the emerging rock 'n' roll music of the time. I knew that Jack was mainly a jazz enthusiast, with an especial interest in the bebop sounds of Bird Parker, Monk, and Diz, as well as the singing of Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald, but I was unaware that he also enjoyed, with Helen, the pop music of Elvis Presley and Screaming Jay Hawkins, and the musical My Fair Lady. That was a revelation.

The final sections of the book present Helen's own appraisal of Kerouac as a writer and his growing impact on the literary world. The whole story is extremely engaging, told sincerely and with some humor. I learned a lot more about the Beats and the times from reading this essential work, and I recommend it unreservedly to all who are interested in the characters and events of that unique period.