Book #16: On the Road

Jack Kerouac's "On the Road"

In the final days of my time in Chile, I was granted access to the bookshelf of a good friend, Aashish, whose own stint in South America was winding down. He gave me Jack Kerouac's "On the Road", which I had been eager to read, as both a travel enthusiast and as a young man whose life bears little semblance to a certain direction. Over the course of time, the book became lost (and found again), and so it wasn't until my trip to Asia in the spring that I took the time to get through it. I must say I was disappointed. Now whether this is a result of not caring for the book or recognizing the haphazard nature in my own life within the pages of the story is unclear. In any event, I felt as though neither Sal Paradise nor Dean Moriarty were very much likable (in fact, Dean comes off in my mind as barely tolerable).

"On the Road" focuses on Sal's trips across the post-WWII United States. A large amount of "stuff" happens within the larger search for whatever life has to offer. It is in THIS regard that the book hit close to home. I like to think, however, that my life has a little more aim than the group of reckless people in the story. In any event, the story comes in a series of parts, each of which starts with Sal Paradise (the main character, based on Kerouac himself) and his restlessness with where his life has taken him. He's as uncertain as the day is long, but longs for something else; certainly this is the height of personalization. And so starts the disembarkation across the great American terrain. This is before Eisenhower's Interstate System, mind you, and so the landscape carries much more flavor and personality than the endless fields and landscapes.

The more I think about it, the more I feel as though my own "itch" to explore the unexplored on a whim SHOULD have me enjoying this story more. And yet, I don't. It all seems very haphazard and ultimately, the ending made me even angrier, as it just ends. Hear me out: the ending is sort of a wistful look back at all that's gone on and seems to end on a shaking head, like, "I can't believe all of the shit we got up to." The problem is Sal never explains what he's done since. The idea of doing all that they got up to and having nothing to show for it infuriated me. I love to travel. I've done extensive time abroad, and have something to show for it....or will.... or propose to. I plan on teaching for my career. Whether I do that here or abroad, it is the driving force behind the majority of my travels. I want to be well-versed, informed, connected to something bigger. THAT is what bothers me about the characters in this book, and ultimately, the book itself. It's not that they lack direction. It's that they don't profess to want a direction. Had Kerouac simply said "I did it because it was there", it wouldn't be as bad because, really, some things have to happen for that reason. But there's none of that. It's as though he splattered out everything he wanted to say and said "okay, you make sense of this." Shirker.

In any event, there are some gems of quotes in the story, and there are endearing moments that hit quite close to home, as I had previously stated. Overall, however, "On the Road" left me a little cold. Oh well. I suppose sometimes you do (and read) things just because they're there, and just to say you did/read them.