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versmonesprit 's review for:
Lonesome Traveler
by Jack Kerouac
adventurous
inspiring
reflective
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
N/A
Strong character development:
N/A
Loveable characters:
N/A
Diverse cast of characters:
N/A
Flaws of characters a main focus:
N/A
It’s hard to talk about Lonesome Traveler, both because there’s a lot to be said, and because it has left me speechless.
It’s easy to see I didn’t find it perfectly perfect — it’s a fluctuating work, in tone and rhythm as in quality. Kerouac presents his life working and/or travelling in North America, to North Africa, to France, and finally briefly to England. Like the sceneries, the vehicles change as well, varying from trains to ship even to mules. Through such variety, it offers a certain freshness. Individually, though, these life and book chapters vary in accessibility and artistry. Some lack both, some offer one or the other, and some still achieve both.
Kerouac’s prose can get exhausting and even indecipherable at times, creating an insurmountable barrier between the reader and the work. But once you push through these parts, you’re met with nothing short of genius: a narration that is by all means jazz. I lost count of how many sentences or phrase turns I stopped and reread innumerable times, because they’re so delectable to say, to read, to hear, and to the soul. It’s a fully fledged experience to read these feverish, breathless passages — like how The Railroad Earth’s rhythm is vastly reminiscent of the sounds of trains chugging and rushing by. They are addictive, they stay with you and make you yearn for more. In a way, they’re the way Kerouac transmits his own brand of madness.
And as such I understand why so many people have felt the way they have about On the Road, because I feel it for Lonesome Traveler. Will my soul ever rest easy again, or will something inside me burn and yearn forever and ever?
It’s easy to see I didn’t find it perfectly perfect — it’s a fluctuating work, in tone and rhythm as in quality. Kerouac presents his life working and/or travelling in North America, to North Africa, to France, and finally briefly to England. Like the sceneries, the vehicles change as well, varying from trains to ship even to mules. Through such variety, it offers a certain freshness. Individually, though, these life and book chapters vary in accessibility and artistry. Some lack both, some offer one or the other, and some still achieve both.
Kerouac’s prose can get exhausting and even indecipherable at times, creating an insurmountable barrier between the reader and the work. But once you push through these parts, you’re met with nothing short of genius: a narration that is by all means jazz. I lost count of how many sentences or phrase turns I stopped and reread innumerable times, because they’re so delectable to say, to read, to hear, and to the soul. It’s a fully fledged experience to read these feverish, breathless passages — like how The Railroad Earth’s rhythm is vastly reminiscent of the sounds of trains chugging and rushing by. They are addictive, they stay with you and make you yearn for more. In a way, they’re the way Kerouac transmits his own brand of madness.
And as such I understand why so many people have felt the way they have about On the Road, because I feel it for Lonesome Traveler. Will my soul ever rest easy again, or will something inside me burn and yearn forever and ever?