Customer Reviews

Big Sur (Library Edition)

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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.

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.

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.

Kerouac's Big Sur, written after his mega-success with On The Road, could be argued as a very dark, depressing read. On the contrary, I found it very revealing about one of my favorite writers, and his frame of mind at the time.

Given the opportunity to seclude himself from his friends, fame, and drinking to excess in the cabin of a friend, Kerouac sinks into a sort of paranoia and anxiety, and finally gives in to his impulse to return to 'civilization'....and then proceeds to invite a group back to the cabin, leading him to realize that his most recent affair was with a girl he didn't actually love.

The most fascinating aspect of this novel, to me, is not the horrific volume of drinking Kerouac does at this stage of his life, but in the fact that though he was put off by his fame, and being dubbed 'the King of the Beats', and at being hounded by ardent fans who wanted to merely be in his presence...he couldn't stand the isolation.

Also of interest to me was the 'honesty' he put into his feelings about the actions of his fans...they say 'imitation is the sincerest form of flattery', but Kerouac seemed to think just the opposite...and all but told his fans/readers to 'get a life' in several passages of the book. Those in his industry, who rely so heavily on fan-support rarely ever are so vocal about their distaste for those same fans, without a severely negative impact on their sales.

An excellent read, though if you are looking for 'uplifting', spiritually awakening wisdom from the 'king of the beats', look elsewhere. This book is a downward spiral into the darker recesses of Kerouac's alcohol-induced delirium.

Big Sur is the story of Kerouac's mental and physical breakdown while on "retreat" at Lawrence Ferlinghetti's cabin at Big Sur. Having obtained instant fame after the publication of On the Road, Kerouac was not prepared for the adulation and pressures that accompany success. Pushed, pulled and used by various "hangers-on" on his return to San Francisco, he retreated to Big Sur to try to find solitude and to escape the hectic world of the city. While there, he is able to find the peace he was seeking, but in the end is lured back to the city where he begins a period of heavy drinking.

Several characters from On the Road appear, like Neal Cassady and his wife, Carolyn, and give this novel a sense of continuity with the earlier books. The writing is similar to Kerouac's other efforts, but the prose in Big Sur is tinged with a certain urgency and sense of calamity. The climatic scene in the novel is Kerouac's vivid description of his delirium tremens after several weeks of very heavy drinking. I think this represents some of his best writing as he deals with his own anxieties and a variety of frightening hallucinations.

Not surprising, this novel received the best reviews of any of Kerouac's novels. But just as he was beginning to receive some mainstream acceptance, his experiences in San Francisco and Big Sur (as well as his new found fame) turned him away from the writing experience. Kerouac remarks at the end of the novel: "Books, shmooks, this sickness has got me wishing if I can ever get out of this I'll gladly become a millworker and shut my big mouth." Although a few minor books were to follow Big Sur, they never lived up to his earlier works.

Kerouac's poem, "Sea: Sounds of the Pacific Ocean at Big Sur," is appended to the end of the novel.

For any true fans of Jack Kerouac, this book marks the end of a semi-productive career for this writer. Several years after On The Road, Big Sur provides a dark and twisted reflection of the more jovial and adventurous atmosphere to On The Road. The Duluoz Legend was never so grim, nor so sober as in this installation to the saga that was Jack Kerouac. People from Kerouac's daily life make candid appearances throughout the book through characterized aliases. Ferlinghetti appears as Montrose, yet the City Lights Bookstore in San Francisco is mentioned the same as in real life. In this story, Kerouac comes to terms with himself, and what his life has really meant over the past years. Through the advice of friends, and by a drunken depression, Jack Duluoz(Kerouac) appears as the truly tragic figure he was near the end of his life in St. Petersburg, FL. I feel it safe to say that in this instance, art truly imitates life. I recommend this book to anyone, mostly to those who've read On The Road, and more specifically to those who have become influenced through the writings of this 20th Century legend.

Big Sur was the third book by Jack Kerouac that I read (On the Road being the first and Satori in Paris being the second). I thought nothing would top On the Road, but this did. I tried explaining to a friend why I thought this book was better than On the Road, and I told him this book was so much more honest, and so much more grittier. Some of the descriptions Jack gives throughout this book, such as his description of what it's like to be an alcoholic towards the book's beginning, are wonderful. The ending of the book, with Jack returning home to be with his mother (whom he would hardly ever leave for the rest of his life) is truly heartbreaking, and the last line "there's no need to say another word" takes on even more significance when one realizes that this book marks the end of Jack's truly creative period. He continued writing after this, but the works he put out post Big Sur couldn't compare to earlier pieces like this (just read Satori in Paris if you want to see what I mean). I haven't read all of Kerouac's books yet (I'm in the middle of Visions of Gerard) but I would have to say that it's a toss up between this book or the Subterreans as to which is my favorite. Think about this: in the Subterreans, he merely lost a girl. In Big Sur, he lost himself.

It has been about seven years since I have read this book, but it remains my favorite book by my favorite author of novels. The reason I give this review is because I am about to embark on a critical analysis of it for class. I hope that I come out of this sea of emotion with my breath still even!

Out of all of his books this one portrays the crux of Kerouac's life dilemma. If one wants to read unbridled travel narrative, then s/he should go to "On the Road". If one wants to capture all the splendor of the youthful Beat mysticism at its prime, then "Dharma Bums" is likely the best bet. For sheer emotiveness, however, "Big Sur" is possibly without parallel in American literature.

There is one scene that overflows with passion and entreaty to the cosmos. He is involved in a tortuous love affair as he attempts to get off of alcohol. All of this yearning and pathos piles into his psyche and all his mind can do is scream. I don't know about all of the rest of us, but this is a way that I have felt in my life. I am glad there is a novelist like Kerouac who succeeded in publicizing the essential anguish of the American tradition.

If anyone wants to correspond with me on the matter of this book and others by him, please do so. Fresh and contemporary voices will add immeasurable breadth and meaning to my research project. Good day!

This novel marked the close end to Kerouac. Kerouac was controlled by alcohol and depression. He hopes to find peace in a cabin in the Big Sur(Which I went to just a few weeks and is very beautiful). There he is just tortured by his own thoughts from too much alcohol. In this time Kerouac looks back at his outgoing "On The Road" backpacking days and begs for mercy in his own misery. The main reason I love this novel besides Kerouac's honesty and splendid writing is the message it has on contemporey america. 10 years after "On The Road" and as the 60's unfold so does the destruction of friendly america. Kerouac can barley hitchike because of america's new fear of the hitchiker being a criminal. This is a very symbolic point of how friendly america was and now how everyone lives in fear. We also are re-visited with Kerouac's "On the Road" hero "Dean Moritatey", Who is still wild and hyper but with a family. Kerouac slowly starts to crack for a short while in Big Sur and we see some of Kerouac's most haunting writing ever. This novel also includes a poem Kerouac wrote called "Sea" which translates the sound of the ocean into speaking english. It is tedious yet fascinating at the same time. "Big Sur" remains a potrait of a troubled writer who struggles with society and alcohol addiction. This book should be read by all, However it is not a good to start as an intro to Kerouac( Atleast read "On The Road" first). This may be Kerouac's best work since "On The Road".

Kerouac pulled no internal punches with this one. He's there, at his worst in many ways, but the sordid tale is beautifully told. How he makes something so depressing and painful into a work of pure beauty is almost magical. No one had ever done fiction quite like Jack Kerouac, and no one has since been able to duplicate that style, or even ape it effectively.

BIG SUR is one of the top four of the Beat works. For me, it remains one of the most powerful--easily the saddest. And I think we need something of the expression of this kind of sadness.