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68 of 69 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A lacerating account of alcoholic descent, January 4, 2000
Jack Kerouac is famed as the great romantic of the American road, but that reputation ignores his greatest quality as a writer - his searing honesty. By the mid-60s, Kerouac was barely recognisable as the poet laureate of footloose youth. He was bloated, depressed, and romantically disappointed. He was also an alcoholic. One of the many heartbreaking passages in "Big Sur" records his inability to hitch a ride up the Californian coast. Americans, en route to the summer of love, had annexed "beat" culture into the rising ethic of hippie-dom. Kerouac couldn't relate to it, and nor could the hippies relate to him. This cult hero for many hippies couldn't thumb a ride because - overweight, middle-aged and dressed as a down-at-heel working man - Kerouac looked no part of the hippie dream that, in part, he had helped inspire. Alone, lonely, drinking heavily and in terrible emotional and spiritual pain, Kerouac miraculously (for us) sustained his extraordinary honesty about his condition. This, his most truly personal book, is agonising to read - but it is through this book that we come to know him best, and most deeply feel his tragedy. If you've ever worried about your own drinking, this is the book to keep you sober.
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52 of 53 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
An amazing book, September 26, 2001
Big Sur is one of the most harrowing books ever written about alcoholism, mental illness, and fame. The demons that Jack Kerouac describes in this book will be nothing new to people who have read the previous novels in his autobiographical Dulouz Saga. Throughout all of his work, Kerouac was painfully honest about his problems with alcohol, his tendency towards manic depression and paranoia, and his inability to find joy or hope in anything for too long of a time. However, in Big Sur, one thing has changed. Kerouac's surrogate Jack Dulouz is now a famous writer -- an icon to young, wanna-be beatniks everywhere. Whereas previously Dulouz's breakdowns were, at least, only seen by his friends, he now finds his problems observed, it seems, by the entire world. Reeling from the sudden success of his novel "Road" (which, of course, is Kerouac's On the Road), Dulouz accepts an invitation to spend a few months at a cabin in Big Sur where he can get away from his new admirers (who, in a few bitingly humorous passages, are described as tracking him down at his mother's house, expecting to find a young hellion and becoming angered when they find the actual middle-aged, rather conservative Dulouz). Alone, Dulouz hopes to commune with nature but instead, he finds the crashing of the nearby surf to be oppressive and even imagines it as a voice condemning him for his many sins. As a result, Dulouz descends further and further into alcoholism and insanity before finally hitchhiking to a nearby town where he ends up romantically entangled with a truly horrific woman and coming face-to-face with his future fate if he doesn't change his ways. (Sadly, the fate that Dulouz tries to escape in this book would be the fate that would eventually claim Kerouac in reality.) Its a harrowing vision, one that is as readable as it is scary. Especially poignant is the knowledge that Kerouac pretty much wrote the book as the events were happening. When we see Dulouz go insane, its impossible to forget that Kerouac wrote this while going crazy himself. There's been a tendency to undervalue the literary worth of Jack Kerouac. While most critics will now grudgingly admit the importance of On the Road, his other works are often dismissed. Beyond a loyal following, many seem to agree with Truman Capote's unfair assessment of Kerouac's work -- "That's not writing. Its typing." Well, it is true that Kerouac's writing was basically a recording of the events of his life and, much like life, Kerouac's books often had a certain randomness to them. While it is incorrect to see that they lacked structure, it was a very subtle structure that demanded the reader search his words for the hidden meaning on their own as opposed to simply having Kerouac's themes spoon fed to them. What is often missed that if Kerouac was simply recording his life, he still did it with a talent and an honesty that elavated events that might have been dismissed as mundane or simply pathetic and instead, shaped them into a haunting portrait of what it was like to be lost in a country that seemed to regard that as a crime. Big Sur seems to serve as his answer to all of those who were too quick to automatically idealize the vision he put forth in On the Road. Its a book that everyone who claims to be imitating Kerouac's popular image should read. There was a lot more to Jack Kerouac's talent than just the media hype surrounding the so-called Beat Generation and Kerouac deserves better than to be remembered for only one (admitedly wonderful) book. Big Sur is one of the greatest American novels of the 20th Century and remains Jack Kerouac's most vibrant literary legacy. Unfortunately, he destroyed himself to create it.
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31 of 32 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
the down Beat, June 16, 2000
By 1962 alcohol had become the combustible propellent of Jack Kerouac's saturated imagination. Like matches to the wick, binges could last weeks. 'Big Sur' brings a much different narrator than the frenetic idealist of 'On The Road'. When that was published, years after it had been written, he was touted as the bard of a new generation, a moniker he grew to deeply resent. Popular culture soon trivialized the 'Beats' into a parody of bongo drums and bad poetry. He became perceived by critics as a passing fad. A wounded Kerouac, his attempts to be recognized as a serious writer in disarray, hoped to dry out in a solitary retreat at a cabin at Big Sur. It would be his last genuine effort at sobriety, and this book would become his last great novel. Much of the book was written in the afterglow of hangovers, or the buzz of the day's first drink. There is weariness here, a sedated fatalism. His spirituality struggles with morbidity. Still, Kerouac's sensual, sensitive poetic prose might have reached its most sublime character in 'Big Sur', even in its fevered sparks of delirium tremens. It drifts, as Kerouac was drifting, in the disillusionment of the post-Beat rancor, then swirls into eddies of luminous energy. The flow of consciousness is viewed as if through a prism which gives experience a subjective, surreal semblance of order. It seems so tantalizingly close to grasping some illusive meaning, that talisman Kerouac had followed through friendships, terrestrial and spiritual wandering, hardscrabble existence, inebriation, all his life. There is a little quip at the start of the book about the copyright problems he was having with previous publishers, regarding the use of the various names he had attributed to the pantheon of his 'beatnik' friends. The group who became the century's most legendary collection of literary iconoclasts. He describes all of his books as a single Proustian comedy of raging action, folly, sweetness. He whimsies spending his old age reinserting a consistent nomenclature. Of course, the old age would never be. A coherent structure, though, might have robbed the books of their intrinsic spontaneity, the root of their innocence. With all this, there is still a persistent, if subdued, cadence (a beat!) and a wry, if exhausted, humour. Lament or comedy, the roaring storm of On The Road, came crashing ashore at Big Sur, leaving the author a crumpled wreck on the beach. But from these bookends you can glean Kerouac's exhilarating, sad odyssey. 'Big Sur' is its most wrenchingly personal and expressive chapter.
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