Monday, May 10, 2010

May 10, 2010


re: John Leland, More Kerouac, the criticsß


Dear Hank;


I’m still on this Kerouac thing. I’ve been reading Why Kerouac Matters by John Leland. The guy does a good job, no, a great job, of distilling the essential Kerouac. I’ve read two reviews of his book by critics. One whined because he didn’t make clear, according to the critic, the differences between the original 1951 version and the final 1957 version that got published. The other critic spent more time talking about why he liked On the Road then he did talking about the book he was supposed to be reviewing. His main complaint was that Leland used titles of chapters that he didn’t like.

At least the second critic did eventually get around to saying that Leland captured what Kerouac was trying to do and say. The first critic seemed to have missed the point altogether. Leland gave a great critical analysis of On the Road and he put it in a framework which explained what Kerouac was trying to do with his writing. Some things were a stretch, maybe; but he got me thinking about Kerouac in new and different ways that made me realize some essential things about On the Road that I had missed and not thought of before.

So why are these guys critical? Is it that its cooler to be critical? Is it like The Bridges of Madison County to say how trite rather than saying the book sounded genuine and real even if, like a new born baby “it just happens every day”? (quote the Rolling Stones, Mother’s Little Helper.)

What Leland has pointed out is that the book is told in parables with book end images of what being on the road is like; that the book is built on a jazz rhythm, beat and sound with the story looping back to tell the same tale but with variations. Leland points out that although Kerouac wrote the final draft in 20 days he had been working on it over three or four years. The book is about energy and jazz and growing up.

If I could find a way to contact John Leland I’d tell him good job and tell the critics to go “f” themselves.


Yours,


Bryce

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