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Lonesome Traveler
In his first frankly autobiographical work, Jack Kerouac tells the exhilarating story for the years when he was writing the books that captivated and infuriated the public, restless years of wandering during which he worked as a railway brakeman in California, a steward on a tramp steamer, and a fire lookout on the crest of Desolation Peak in the Cascade Mountains.
192 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1960
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About the author
Jack Kerouac
362 books11.6k followersJean-Louis Lebris de Kérouac, known as Jack Kerouac, was an American novelist and poet who, alongside William S. Burroughs and Allen Ginsberg, was a pioneer of the Beat Generation.
Of French-Canadian ancestry, Kerouac was raised in a French-speaking home in Lowell, Massachusetts. He "learned English at age six and spoke with a marked accent into his late teens." During World War II, he served in the United States Merchant Marine; he completed his first novel at the time, which was published more than 40 years after his death. His first published book was The Town and the City (1950), and he achieved widespread fame and notoriety with his second, On the Road, in 1957. It made him a beat icon, and he went on to publish 12 more novels and numerous poetry volumes.
Kerouac is recognized for his style of stream of consciousness spontaneous prose. Thematically, his work covers topics such as his Catholic spirituality, jazz, travel, promiscuity, life in New York City, Buddhism, drugs, and poverty. He became an underground celebrity and, with other Beats, a progenitor of the hippie movement, although he remained antagonistic toward some of its politically radical elements. He has a lasting legacy, greatly influencing many of the cultural icons of the 1960s, including Bob Dylan, The Beatles, Jerry Garcia and The Doors.
In 1969, at the age of 47, Kerouac died from an abdominal hemorrhage caused by a lifetime of heavy drinking. Since then, his literary prestige has grown, and several previously unseen works have been published.
Of French-Canadian ancestry, Kerouac was raised in a French-speaking home in Lowell, Massachusetts. He "learned English at age six and spoke with a marked accent into his late teens." During World War II, he served in the United States Merchant Marine; he completed his first novel at the time, which was published more than 40 years after his death. His first published book was The Town and the City (1950), and he achieved widespread fame and notoriety with his second, On the Road, in 1957. It made him a beat icon, and he went on to publish 12 more novels and numerous poetry volumes.
Kerouac is recognized for his style of stream of consciousness spontaneous prose. Thematically, his work covers topics such as his Catholic spirituality, jazz, travel, promiscuity, life in New York City, Buddhism, drugs, and poverty. He became an underground celebrity and, with other Beats, a progenitor of the hippie movement, although he remained antagonistic toward some of its politically radical elements. He has a lasting legacy, greatly influencing many of the cultural icons of the 1960s, including Bob Dylan, The Beatles, Jerry Garcia and The Doors.
In 1969, at the age of 47, Kerouac died from an abdominal hemorrhage caused by a lifetime of heavy drinking. Since then, his literary prestige has grown, and several previously unseen works have been published.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 439 reviews
January 17, 2021
“Thinking of the stars night after night I begin to realize 'The stars are words' and all the innumerable worlds in the Milky Way are words, and so is this world too. And I realize that no matter where I am, whether in a little room full of thought, or in this endless universe of stars and mountains, it’s all in my mind.”
Some of the final sections of Lonesome Traveler are really worth reading. "New York Scenes," "Alone on a Mountaintop" and "The Vanishing American Hobo" provide interesting insight on Kerouac and the beat writers. I think this is another work Kerouac finished at breakneck speed and refused to edit. When it succeeds, the reader experiences the language as emotional and containing a sense of urgency. Lonesome Traveler is uneven, but definitely has gems as well!
“After all this kind of fanfare, and even more, I came to a point where I needed solitude and to just stop the machine of 'thinking' and 'enjoying' what they call 'living,' I just wanted to lie in the grass and look at the clouds...”
Some of the final sections of Lonesome Traveler are really worth reading. "New York Scenes," "Alone on a Mountaintop" and "The Vanishing American Hobo" provide interesting insight on Kerouac and the beat writers. I think this is another work Kerouac finished at breakneck speed and refused to edit. When it succeeds, the reader experiences the language as emotional and containing a sense of urgency. Lonesome Traveler is uneven, but definitely has gems as well!
“After all this kind of fanfare, and even more, I came to a point where I needed solitude and to just stop the machine of 'thinking' and 'enjoying' what they call 'living,' I just wanted to lie in the grass and look at the clouds...”
July 26, 2013
Forget On the Road, this is the book to read of Kerouac. "On the Road" is fine, but is hampered by Kerouac's thinly disguised hankering after Dean Moriarty (Neal Cassady in real life). If Kerouac would have wrote about that elephant in the room it would have been a better book. The whole book I was going "Hey, Sal, the guys a sociopath, get over it!".
In any case, those problems aren't in this collection of essays on the traveling life Kerouac had in the late 40's and 50's. Thank God he is lonesome for the most part so we don't have read his obsessions with Cassady or a Mexican whore. Rather we get the beat prose on being a hobo, a railman, a solitary guy in a fire lookout, a traveler in Morocco and Europe. There really is no other prose writer like this, and you kinda forgive him for the outrageousness because the rhythms and images just come one after another in a gushing torrent!
In any case, those problems aren't in this collection of essays on the traveling life Kerouac had in the late 40's and 50's. Thank God he is lonesome for the most part so we don't have read his obsessions with Cassady or a Mexican whore. Rather we get the beat prose on being a hobo, a railman, a solitary guy in a fire lookout, a traveler in Morocco and Europe. There really is no other prose writer like this, and you kinda forgive him for the outrageousness because the rhythms and images just come one after another in a gushing torrent!
September 22, 2016
And I saw how everybody dies and nobody's going to care. I felt how it is to live just so you can die like a bull trapped in a screaming human ring.
Το απόσπασμα δίνει ακριβώς τον τόνο της μελαγχολίας που διατρέχει όλα τα διηγήματα της συγκεκριμένης συλλογής. Με την επιθυμία της φυγής, του ταξιδιού, ως κέντρο βάρους, η νατουραλιστική πρόζα του Kerouac περιγράφει την περιδιάβασή του στις πόλεις σαν σε πραγματικό χρόνο, με επιμονή στις λεπτομέρειες, αλλά και με ελλειπτικό χαρακτήρα - με προτάσεις δηλαδή κοφτές, απότομες και σε στιγμές απόλυτες. Εντούτοις την εμφάνισή τους στη γραφή κάνουν πλήθος ηχητικών παιχνιδιών και παρηχήσεων, προσδίδοντας έναν εσωτερικό ρυθμό στην αφήγηση. Η πρόζα του Kerouac, με συχνό ασύνδετο σχήμα, είναι άμεση, προσιτή και οικεία, ενώ θυμίζει έντονα συζήτηση γύρω από ποτό και τσιγάρα (μιας και μιλάμε για τον Kerouac).
Το απόσπασμα δίνει ακριβώς τον τόνο της μελαγχολίας που διατρέχει όλα τα διηγήματα της συγκεκριμένης συλλογής. Με την επιθυμία της φυγής, του ταξιδιού, ως κέντρο βάρους, η νατουραλιστική πρόζα του Kerouac περιγράφει την περιδιάβασή του στις πόλεις σαν σε πραγματικό χρόνο, με επιμονή στις λεπτομέρειες, αλλά και με ελλειπτικό χαρακτήρα - με προτάσεις δηλαδή κοφτές, απότομες και σε στιγμές απόλυτες. Εντούτοις την εμφάνισή τους στη γραφή κάνουν πλήθος ηχητικών παιχνιδιών και παρηχήσεων, προσδίδοντας έναν εσωτερικό ρυθμό στην αφήγηση. Η πρόζα του Kerouac, με συχνό ασύνδετο σχήμα, είναι άμεση, προσιτή και οικεία, ενώ θυμίζει έντονα συζήτηση γύρω από ποτό και τσιγάρα (μιας και μιλάμε για τον Kerouac).
February 7, 2020
25th book of 2020.
Continuing my lovely wonderful Kerouac binge. I wrote my Big Sur review in a Kerouac style, or tried, but I won't do that again; I have some thoughts on this one, and want to partly relate it to some of his other works that I've read.
At first, this one didn't interest me much. Kerouac gives us eight parts in different places, so it's a little like short stories, rather than one period of his life like his other novels. The first four parts (Named: Piers of the Homeless Night, Mexico Fellaheen, The Railroad Earth, Slobs of the Kitchen Sea) are definitely in the spirit and voice of a younger, On the Road, like Kerouac - rambling, swearing, a bit over-the-top maybe. I compare it to the bull-fighting bravado version of Hemingway compared to the mythic beauty of Old Man and the Sea Hemingway; I don't mean to compare them as men, but simply as the contrast of their voices throughout their lives. From what I've read of Kerouac so far, his On the Road voice is young, ambitious, but also a little too far, then it matures slightly in The Dharma Bums but remains young, hopeful, full of life and joy for the world... before the Big Sur period; Kerouac becomes sensitive, self-aware, still in awe of the beauty of the world but reflective of it, the beauty, compared to the pain he feels. And then in the end Satori in Paris, his ruin, I suppose, the drink victorious.
I digress. The second half of this book, Lonesome Traveller, (reminding myself what I'm meant to be talking about) is far better. New York Scenes, Alone on a Mountaintop, Big Trip to Europe, The Vanishing American Hobo. His scenes of New York is mostly a painting the beatniks, what they did, where they ate and drank, it's not bad, not great. Being alone on the mountaintop is returning to his time as a fire warden again, which he talks of in other books, namely, that's where The Dharma Bums ends; it is not repetitive though, though I could read about Kerouac on top of a mountain with his thoughts for the rest of my life; I underlined mostly in this part. No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy, even bored solitude in the wilderness, finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and hidden strength. - Learning for instance, to eat when he's hungry and sleep when he's sleepy. Or this wonderful, cryptic quote, the best kind from Kerouac, that fill you up with beauty for the world: Thinking of the stars night after night I begin to realise 'The stars are words' and all the innumerable worlds in the Milky Way are words, and so is this world too. And I realise that no matter where I am, whether in a little room full of thought, or in this endless universe of stars and mountains, it's all in my mind. There's no need for solitude. So love life for what it is, and form no preconceptions whatever in your mind.
His trip to Europe has a little bit with him and writer William S. Burroughs, which I always find interesting when writers talk about other writers, a perfect example being Hemingway's A Moveable Feast. He then travels France and London. He describes Paris well. I read Satori in Paris in Paris at the end of last year and was disappointed; Kerouac rarely delved into Paris, the roads and the sights, so I could see them as he did; he was mostly drunk in bars, this being at the end of his career. However, here, he walks down the Boulevard St-Germain as I did several months ago, he wanders the Louvre... For Paris, it's a better and more detailed read. At the end of the chapter he is mistaken for a bum and almost misses his train, getting tangled up with some authorities, and desperately tries to prove himself as an American writer. They ring the publishing office but no one answers as it's a Saturday. Finally, in his bag, he finds something about him and Miller and they realise who he is. In London he borrows a fiver off his agent there.
And finally, for I've nearly finished talking, his last chapter is an oddly insightful look into the 'hobo' and the disintegration of it in the modern world. This partly comes up in later work, in the beginning of Big Sur he notes how hitchhiking is hardly possible anymore, cars are full with families and no one wants some bum off the road, unlike how it was in the 50s, during his On the Road days with Neal Cassady. It's very applicable now, even. There's something strange going on, you cant even be alone any more in the primitive wilderness ('primitive areas' so-called), there's always a helicopter comes and snoops around, you need camouflage; it makes me feel glad Kerouac wasn't born in this generation, poor free spirit, there's no freedom now, Jackie. Some police stop him as he's wandering on a beach and ask him what he's doing. I'll finish with their exchange - further presenting the beauty of old Mr Kerouac, sorely missed, though I never met him.
'Where you goin'?'
'Sleep.'
'Sleep where?'
'On the sand.'
'Why?'
'Got my sleeping bag.'
'Why?'
'Studyin' the great outdoors.'
'Who are you? Let's see your identification.'
'I just spent a summer with the Forest Service.'
'Did you get paid?'
'Yeah.'
'Then why don't you go to a hotel?'
'I like it better outdoors and it's free.'
'Why?'
'Because I'm studying hobo.'
Continuing my lovely wonderful Kerouac binge. I wrote my Big Sur review in a Kerouac style, or tried, but I won't do that again; I have some thoughts on this one, and want to partly relate it to some of his other works that I've read.
At first, this one didn't interest me much. Kerouac gives us eight parts in different places, so it's a little like short stories, rather than one period of his life like his other novels. The first four parts (Named: Piers of the Homeless Night, Mexico Fellaheen, The Railroad Earth, Slobs of the Kitchen Sea) are definitely in the spirit and voice of a younger, On the Road, like Kerouac - rambling, swearing, a bit over-the-top maybe. I compare it to the bull-fighting bravado version of Hemingway compared to the mythic beauty of Old Man and the Sea Hemingway; I don't mean to compare them as men, but simply as the contrast of their voices throughout their lives. From what I've read of Kerouac so far, his On the Road voice is young, ambitious, but also a little too far, then it matures slightly in The Dharma Bums but remains young, hopeful, full of life and joy for the world... before the Big Sur period; Kerouac becomes sensitive, self-aware, still in awe of the beauty of the world but reflective of it, the beauty, compared to the pain he feels. And then in the end Satori in Paris, his ruin, I suppose, the drink victorious.
I digress. The second half of this book, Lonesome Traveller, (reminding myself what I'm meant to be talking about) is far better. New York Scenes, Alone on a Mountaintop, Big Trip to Europe, The Vanishing American Hobo. His scenes of New York is mostly a painting the beatniks, what they did, where they ate and drank, it's not bad, not great. Being alone on the mountaintop is returning to his time as a fire warden again, which he talks of in other books, namely, that's where The Dharma Bums ends; it is not repetitive though, though I could read about Kerouac on top of a mountain with his thoughts for the rest of my life; I underlined mostly in this part. No man should go through life without once experiencing healthy, even bored solitude in the wilderness, finding himself depending solely on himself and thereby learning his true and hidden strength. - Learning for instance, to eat when he's hungry and sleep when he's sleepy. Or this wonderful, cryptic quote, the best kind from Kerouac, that fill you up with beauty for the world: Thinking of the stars night after night I begin to realise 'The stars are words' and all the innumerable worlds in the Milky Way are words, and so is this world too. And I realise that no matter where I am, whether in a little room full of thought, or in this endless universe of stars and mountains, it's all in my mind. There's no need for solitude. So love life for what it is, and form no preconceptions whatever in your mind.
His trip to Europe has a little bit with him and writer William S. Burroughs, which I always find interesting when writers talk about other writers, a perfect example being Hemingway's A Moveable Feast. He then travels France and London. He describes Paris well. I read Satori in Paris in Paris at the end of last year and was disappointed; Kerouac rarely delved into Paris, the roads and the sights, so I could see them as he did; he was mostly drunk in bars, this being at the end of his career. However, here, he walks down the Boulevard St-Germain as I did several months ago, he wanders the Louvre... For Paris, it's a better and more detailed read. At the end of the chapter he is mistaken for a bum and almost misses his train, getting tangled up with some authorities, and desperately tries to prove himself as an American writer. They ring the publishing office but no one answers as it's a Saturday. Finally, in his bag, he finds something about him and Miller and they realise who he is. In London he borrows a fiver off his agent there.
And finally, for I've nearly finished talking, his last chapter is an oddly insightful look into the 'hobo' and the disintegration of it in the modern world. This partly comes up in later work, in the beginning of Big Sur he notes how hitchhiking is hardly possible anymore, cars are full with families and no one wants some bum off the road, unlike how it was in the 50s, during his On the Road days with Neal Cassady. It's very applicable now, even. There's something strange going on, you cant even be alone any more in the primitive wilderness ('primitive areas' so-called), there's always a helicopter comes and snoops around, you need camouflage; it makes me feel glad Kerouac wasn't born in this generation, poor free spirit, there's no freedom now, Jackie. Some police stop him as he's wandering on a beach and ask him what he's doing. I'll finish with their exchange - further presenting the beauty of old Mr Kerouac, sorely missed, though I never met him.
'Where you goin'?'
'Sleep.'
'Sleep where?'
'On the sand.'
'Why?'
'Got my sleeping bag.'
'Why?'
'Studyin' the great outdoors.'
'Who are you? Let's see your identification.'
'I just spent a summer with the Forest Service.'
'Did you get paid?'
'Yeah.'
'Then why don't you go to a hotel?'
'I like it better outdoors and it's free.'
'Why?'
'Because I'm studying hobo.'
February 15, 2019
I wanted to like it but.... sloppy writing. Didn't finish it.
November 26, 2025
Travels With Jack Kerouac
Kerouac's "Lonesome Traveler" (1960)is a collection of eight travel essays, several of which had been published earlier. Kerouac offers insights into the collection in his introduction. He states that he "always considered writing my duty on earth. Also the preachment of universal kindness, which hysterical critics have failed to notice beneath frenetic activity of my true-story novels about the 'beat'generation. -- Am actually not 'beat' but strange solitary crazy Catholic mystic." The essays in "Lonesome Traveler" support Kerouac's comments about his work, which has frequently been misinterpreted or sensationalized. The subject of the collection Kerouac aptly describes as "railroad work, sea work, mysticism, mountain work, lasciviousness, solepsism, self-indulgence, bullfights, drugs, churches, art museums, streets of cities, a mishmosh of life as lived by an independent educated penniless rake going nowhere."
I read much of this book sitting alone in a park on a Saturday afternoon, and it was a fitting companion to my own reflections. There is an intimacy of tone in Kerouac's book that made me feel at times that I was with him and sharing his experiences. Kerouac's spontaneous prose, with its long, strangly, and rhythmic sentences is an erratic instrument indeed. But when it works, it is moving.
There is a continuity in these essays as Kerouac takes his reader back and forth across the United States, to Mexico, and to North Africa and Europe. Kerouac's vision tends to be highly particularized and specific. He is at his best in describing a lonely room in a San Francisco apartment, a night walk on a pier awaiting a ship, and evening's drinking with a friend and, especially, the sights and places of 'beat' New York City. Many of the scenes in the book show Kerouac sedentary -- in a cheap room or in a fire lookout on Desolation Peak -- while others show a fascination with travel, with ships and the sea and even more with railroads.
The first essay "Piers of the Homeless Night" shows Kerouac wandering on a dock in San Pedro in what becomes a failed effort at securing employment on a ship. "Mexico Fellaheen" describes the trip to Mexico he took immediately thereafter, with scenes in a drug den, a bullfight, and a church. "The Railroad Earth" is a lengthy chapter in which Kerouac details his experience working as a brakeman, and how "railroading gets in yr blood", as a character says at the end. In "Slobs of the Kitchen Sea" Kerouac describes his experience working on a ship -- before he gets fired. "New York Scenes" includes the finest writing in the collection, as Kerouac takes his reader on an intimate tour of the New York City he clearly knows and loves. "Alone on a Mountaintop" is a reflective chapter about the summer Kerouac spent as a watchman on Desolation Peak. The "Big Trip to Europe" includes William Burroughs as a character and describes Kerouac's experiences in Tangiers, with women, in Paris, with art museums, and in England, with hostile police. The final essay, "The Vanishing American Hobo" is a nostalgic tribute to those wanderers, such as Kerouac himself, who once graced the American and the world landscape.
Besides the descriptive writing, there is a sense of mystical pantheism in this book. Kerouac's thought is notoriously difficult to describe. The book is replete with religious metaphor, both Buddhist and Christian. For all the vagaries of his life, Kerouac the writer has something to teach. The book teaches of the need to accept and love one's experiences and to let go --- expanding upon what Kerouac himself says in his introduction. Life is to be loved and cherished, regardless of one's circumstances.
Thus, at the end of "Mexico Fellaheen", following a visit to a church, Kerouac observes: "I bow to all this, kneel at my pew entryway, and go out, taking one last look at St. Antoine de Padue (St. Anthony) Santo Antonio de Padua. -- Everything is perfect on the street again, the world is permeated with roses of happiness all the time, but none of us know it. The happiness consists in realizing that it is all a great strange dream."
Kerouac offers a great deal of reflection in the essay "Alone on a Mountaintop." Sitting in the fire observation tower, he comes to realize that "no matter where I am, whether in a little room full of thought, or in this endless universe of stars and mountains, it's all in my mind. There's no need for solitude. So love life for what it is, and form no preconceptions whatever in your mind." As he leaves his summer in the fire tower, Kerouac states that he "turned and blessed Desolation Peak and the little pagoda on top and thanked them for the shelter and the lesson I'd been taught."
There is much in journeying with Kerouac in this book that can inspire still.
Robin Friedman
Kerouac's "Lonesome Traveler" (1960)is a collection of eight travel essays, several of which had been published earlier. Kerouac offers insights into the collection in his introduction. He states that he "always considered writing my duty on earth. Also the preachment of universal kindness, which hysterical critics have failed to notice beneath frenetic activity of my true-story novels about the 'beat'generation. -- Am actually not 'beat' but strange solitary crazy Catholic mystic." The essays in "Lonesome Traveler" support Kerouac's comments about his work, which has frequently been misinterpreted or sensationalized. The subject of the collection Kerouac aptly describes as "railroad work, sea work, mysticism, mountain work, lasciviousness, solepsism, self-indulgence, bullfights, drugs, churches, art museums, streets of cities, a mishmosh of life as lived by an independent educated penniless rake going nowhere."
I read much of this book sitting alone in a park on a Saturday afternoon, and it was a fitting companion to my own reflections. There is an intimacy of tone in Kerouac's book that made me feel at times that I was with him and sharing his experiences. Kerouac's spontaneous prose, with its long, strangly, and rhythmic sentences is an erratic instrument indeed. But when it works, it is moving.
There is a continuity in these essays as Kerouac takes his reader back and forth across the United States, to Mexico, and to North Africa and Europe. Kerouac's vision tends to be highly particularized and specific. He is at his best in describing a lonely room in a San Francisco apartment, a night walk on a pier awaiting a ship, and evening's drinking with a friend and, especially, the sights and places of 'beat' New York City. Many of the scenes in the book show Kerouac sedentary -- in a cheap room or in a fire lookout on Desolation Peak -- while others show a fascination with travel, with ships and the sea and even more with railroads.
The first essay "Piers of the Homeless Night" shows Kerouac wandering on a dock in San Pedro in what becomes a failed effort at securing employment on a ship. "Mexico Fellaheen" describes the trip to Mexico he took immediately thereafter, with scenes in a drug den, a bullfight, and a church. "The Railroad Earth" is a lengthy chapter in which Kerouac details his experience working as a brakeman, and how "railroading gets in yr blood", as a character says at the end. In "Slobs of the Kitchen Sea" Kerouac describes his experience working on a ship -- before he gets fired. "New York Scenes" includes the finest writing in the collection, as Kerouac takes his reader on an intimate tour of the New York City he clearly knows and loves. "Alone on a Mountaintop" is a reflective chapter about the summer Kerouac spent as a watchman on Desolation Peak. The "Big Trip to Europe" includes William Burroughs as a character and describes Kerouac's experiences in Tangiers, with women, in Paris, with art museums, and in England, with hostile police. The final essay, "The Vanishing American Hobo" is a nostalgic tribute to those wanderers, such as Kerouac himself, who once graced the American and the world landscape.
Besides the descriptive writing, there is a sense of mystical pantheism in this book. Kerouac's thought is notoriously difficult to describe. The book is replete with religious metaphor, both Buddhist and Christian. For all the vagaries of his life, Kerouac the writer has something to teach. The book teaches of the need to accept and love one's experiences and to let go --- expanding upon what Kerouac himself says in his introduction. Life is to be loved and cherished, regardless of one's circumstances.
Thus, at the end of "Mexico Fellaheen", following a visit to a church, Kerouac observes: "I bow to all this, kneel at my pew entryway, and go out, taking one last look at St. Antoine de Padue (St. Anthony) Santo Antonio de Padua. -- Everything is perfect on the street again, the world is permeated with roses of happiness all the time, but none of us know it. The happiness consists in realizing that it is all a great strange dream."
Kerouac offers a great deal of reflection in the essay "Alone on a Mountaintop." Sitting in the fire observation tower, he comes to realize that "no matter where I am, whether in a little room full of thought, or in this endless universe of stars and mountains, it's all in my mind. There's no need for solitude. So love life for what it is, and form no preconceptions whatever in your mind." As he leaves his summer in the fire tower, Kerouac states that he "turned and blessed Desolation Peak and the little pagoda on top and thanked them for the shelter and the lesson I'd been taught."
There is much in journeying with Kerouac in this book that can inspire still.
Robin Friedman
August 16, 2020
Δυόμισι αστεράκια, γιατί το δεύτερο μισό ήταν πιο υποφερτό. Το "μοναχικός Ταξιδιώτης" είναι ένα βιογραφικό έργο του Κέρουακ, με πρωταγωνιστή τον ίδιο τον Κέρουακ. Μια αρσενική Άννα Φρανκ, ο Κέρουακ είναι ένας ανέστιος dilettante της εποχής. Ο συγγραφέας κατά επιλογή ασκεί διάφορα επαγγέλματα για να βγάλει τα προς το ζην.
Οι περιγραφές από Σαν Πέντρο, Σαν Φρανσίσκο και λοιπά του Μέχικο, με άφησαν αδιάφορη. Ένας τουριστικός, μάλλον, οδηγός με οδούς, κόντρα λεωφόρους, ονόματα από εδώ, παραλίες από εκεί, ξεχασμένα μαγαζιά από την άλλη και μοναχικούς χομπος να λειτουργούν σαν γιρλαντες.
Εντούτοις, οι περιγραφές Νέας Υόρκης, οι περιγραφές του στα βουνά όταν εργαζόταν σαν δασοφύλακας, και το μεγάλο του ταξίδι προς Ευρώπη έχουν κάτι το ήπιο. Το σεξ, βιβλία, αλκοόλ και ναρκωτικά μόνιμη συντροφιά του Κέρουακ.
Η ανάγνωση της Νέας Υόρκης συνοδεύτηκε με μουσική Τ(Θ)ελόνιους Μόνκ, όπου με αρκετή σύμπτωση τον αναφέρει και ο Κέρουακ σε κάποια φάση.
Ενώ η ανάγνωση για το μεγάλο ταξίδι (του) προς Ευρώπη συνοδεύτηκε από την κούμπια μουσική των Los Miticos del Ritmo.
Μία Μύθος... πάντα δίπλα μου, για να βγεί πιο εύκολα η ανάγνωση! Με γονάτισε ο άτιμος.
Επειδή δεν θα μπορούσα να παραβλέψω το πρώτο μισό του βιβλίου θα επιμείνω στα δυόμισι αστέρια. Παρ' όλα αυτά, θα δώσω πολλές ακόμα ευκαιρίες στην Μπιτ γενιά!
Οι περιγραφές από Σαν Πέντρο, Σαν Φρανσίσκο και λοιπά του Μέχικο, με άφησαν αδιάφορη. Ένας τουριστικός, μάλλον, οδηγός με οδούς, κόντρα λεωφόρους, ονόματα από εδώ, παραλίες από εκεί, ξεχασμένα μαγαζιά από την άλλη και μοναχικούς χομπος να λειτουργούν σαν γιρλαντες.
Εντούτοις, οι περιγραφές Νέας Υόρκης, οι περιγραφές του στα βουνά όταν εργαζόταν σαν δασοφύλακας, και το μεγάλο του ταξίδι προς Ευρώπη έχουν κάτι το ήπιο. Το σεξ, βιβλία, αλκοόλ και ναρκωτικά μόνιμη συντροφιά του Κέρουακ.
Η ανάγνωση της Νέας Υόρκης συνοδεύτηκε με μουσική Τ(Θ)ελόνιους Μόνκ, όπου με αρκετή σύμπτωση τον αναφέρει και ο Κέρουακ σε κάποια φάση.
Ενώ η ανάγνωση για το μεγάλο ταξίδι (του) προς Ευρώπη συνοδεύτηκε από την κούμπια μουσική των Los Miticos del Ritmo.
Μία Μύθος... πάντα δίπλα μου, για να βγεί πιο εύκολα η ανάγνωση! Με γονάτισε ο άτιμος.
Επειδή δεν θα μπορούσα να παραβλέψω το πρώτο μισό του βιβλίου θα επιμείνω στα δυόμισι αστέρια. Παρ' όλα αυτά, θα δώσω πολλές ακόμα ευκαιρίες στην Μπιτ γενιά!
August 2, 2018
¨Η σοφία μπορεί ν' αποκτηθεί μόνο από την οπτική γωνία της μοναξιάς¨
Είναι για 3,5 γιάτι κάνει μια κοιλιά στην αρχή, με έναν καταιγισμό από ονόματα και τοποθεσίες που με έβαλε σε σκέψεις για την πρώτη μου επάφη με τον Κερουάκ...
Το υπόλοιπο του βιβλίου όμως ήταν απολαυστικότατο μπορώ να πω, με υπέροχες περιγραφές των βιωμάτων και των τόπων που επισκέφτηκε ο hobo-συγγραφέας μας...
Είναι για 3,5 γιάτι κάνει μια κοιλιά στην αρχή, με έναν καταιγισμό από ονόματα και τοποθεσίες που με έβαλε σε σκέψεις για την πρώτη μου επάφη με τον Κερουάκ...
Το υπόλοιπο του βιβλίου όμως ήταν απολαυστικότατο μπορώ να πω, με υπέροχες περιγραφές των βιωμάτων και των τόπων που επισκέφτηκε ο hobo-συγγραφέας μας...
April 6, 2015
A lot of this was pretty redundant, given the autobiographical nature of his fiction, but it was still a nice little window into the stories behind the stories.
December 19, 2012
I started reading this on the US election day. It seemed appropriate somehow. This book was a little odd in that it was re-telling stories he'd covered in other novels, but I really enjoyed the way he told them in this. It was definitely some of his more beautiful prose, in particular the first story about meeting his friend. It was one of those great Kerouac descriptions were nothing much happens except two people bum around a bit, and it's simply engrossing. I also really enjoyed his description of Morocco and Paris. The other characters in this book were only fleeting glimpses, Burroughs turned up twice but only as a shadow. There was also a lot of descriptions of the cheap food he was able to find, and how even when he didn't need to he still tried to live as cheaply as possible (something I identify with). It was another fascinating read. I feel like I'm getting close to having read everything he's written in a year. I think I may hold off on the last few books for awhile as I don't want the journey to be over yet. There was one gorgeously cynical description that I really loved. "Ah America, so big, so sad, so black, you're like the leafs of a dry summer that go crinkly ere August found its end, you're hopeless, everyone you look on you, there's nothing but the dry drear hopelessness, the knowledge of impending death, the suffering of the present life..."
April 11, 2012
Автобиография на Джак Керуак, в която гари и влакове, американски улици и пейзажи, кораби и автобуси, океани, равнини и планини, горещи мексикански момичета, симпатични френски ученички, индианци, просяци, мексиканци, бродяги, араби, моряци, Уилям Бъроуз и Хенри Милър, опиум, марихуана и шамани, Танжер, Франция и Англия, писатели, поети и художници, самотни хижи, приюти и хотели, музика, алкохол и храна, барове, закусвални и ресторанти са животът му - едно самотно пътешествие не само по света, но и в неговото битническо време.
Особен и трудно поносим от всеки стил на писане. Живи описания и моменти, в които се случва много, редувани с кратки, накъсани фрази и безглаголни изречения. Спокоен разказ, омесен с напушено бълнуване и делириумни спомени.
Особен и трудно поносим от всеки стил на писане. Живи описания и моменти, в които се случва много, редувани с кратки, накъсани фрази и безглаголни изречения. Спокоен разказ, омесен с напушено бълнуване и делириумни спомени.
April 16, 2017
I think I expected this to be like Orwell's down & out in Paris & London, which it was in part. The first half of the book is really repeatative and boring. Reading about one train was enough for me but there was the odd beauty of a sentence that pushed me on. This is really short but has taken me a little while probably due to the first half. The second half was exactly what I wanted! I have a total literary crush on Jack and I love to read the romance he sees in the everyday. His travels were great to read about and I can't wait to read some more of his stories.
September 6, 2015
A continuation of the conversationalist and sensationalist style that we know. Kerouac's elongated sentences, unorthodox usage of grammar and atypical writing methods is as cumbersome here as it ever was. There's no sense faulting his manipulation of the senses through the written word, but the stories herein are presumably much better heard in the midst of a smoky, whiskey-soaked beat poetry bar, somewhere in the caverns of New York.
June 21, 2021
Jack's book is a series of essays on his travels as a Beatnik across Mexico, America(New York, Frisco and other places), Paris, London, Morroco in the 1950s via roads, railroads, ships and the good old feet. The essays embody the tenets of the Beat generation. There is experimentation with drugs, sex, liquor, meditations in mountains, wild little haikus and plenty of odd jobs. The jobs are on the railroads and ships where there is little pay and a lot of work and frequent insults by the bosses showing capitalism is a system that survives on the exploiting people who are at the bottom(Indians doing the hard labour on fruit fields). So, there is a need for an alternative which Jack believes, is living as a hobo who rejects being a slave under capitalism. The hobo rejects a consumerist life, travels around and cultivates inner freedom by following tenets of Eastern religion like Buddhism. Hobos are diminishing fast in America and Europe given the increased police surveillance which doesn't let them travel, sleep and live on the roads( "The woods are full of wardens"). They are stigmatized as criminals. This alternative is not without its critique such as the sole focus on individual rebellion via changing the mind without a collective political fight against capitalism.
Jack sees Mexico as a land of gaiety as a stark contrast to the "civilised" America. He understands the world from an Indian perspective- " The earth is a indian thing".
The writing style is spontaneous prose that takes a while to understand and relish. I particularly enjoyed his focus on the sounds of objects and the quirky language used by the people. He keenly and goofily observes people and landscapes. His love for literature, paintings and food is delicious.
Jack sees Mexico as a land of gaiety as a stark contrast to the "civilised" America. He understands the world from an Indian perspective- " The earth is a indian thing".
The writing style is spontaneous prose that takes a while to understand and relish. I particularly enjoyed his focus on the sounds of objects and the quirky language used by the people. He keenly and goofily observes people and landscapes. His love for literature, paintings and food is delicious.
June 27, 2015
It took me a couple of chapters to get into this book, once Jack started writing about working on trains, you could really feel his love for trains and I was able to get into the story then.
This is a collection of stories from Jack's travels, featuring America, Mexico, Morocco, Paris and London. I was looking forward to reading about his time in Europe, I wanted to compare his experience to Henry Miller and George Orwell, but it was very different, it was all very spiritual for him, all those old churches and old paintings.
One of the chapters is about his experiences as a fire watcher on mount desolation, which happens at the end of the Dharma Bums novel. It was really interesting to revisit this experience.
The book is written in his usual stream of consciousness style so I would avoid the book if you didn't like on the road.
This is a collection of stories from Jack's travels, featuring America, Mexico, Morocco, Paris and London. I was looking forward to reading about his time in Europe, I wanted to compare his experience to Henry Miller and George Orwell, but it was very different, it was all very spiritual for him, all those old churches and old paintings.
One of the chapters is about his experiences as a fire watcher on mount desolation, which happens at the end of the Dharma Bums novel. It was really interesting to revisit this experience.
The book is written in his usual stream of consciousness style so I would avoid the book if you didn't like on the road.
July 1, 2019
Read this on a fancy cruise like a fucking phony
March 26, 2024
Although I do not consider him a world-class writer, I love reading the works of Jack Kerouac. Irrespective of his French Canadian origins, I consider him to be an archetypal American. There is something about the essays in Lonesome Traveler that show a young man traveling through a series of lousy jobs while remaining hopeful at all times.
His essay "New York Scenes" is probably the most appealing picture of Manhattan I have ever read:
While it is possible for people o other nations to admire the writings of Jack Kerouac, I do not think it is particularly easy for them to understand him. There was this strange period between the end of the Second World War and the Kennedy assassinations where we alternated between a manic feeling of can-do pride and the horror of possible nuclear annihilation. To me, Kerouac was the preeminent writer of fiction for that period.
His essay "New York Scenes" is probably the most appealing picture of Manhattan I have ever read:
My friends and I in New York City have our own special way of having fun without having to spend much money and most important of all without having to be importuned by formalistic bores, such as, say, a swell evening at the mayor's ball. -- We dont have to shake hands and we dont have to make appointments and we feel all right. -- We sorta wander around like children. -- We walk into parties and tell everybody what we've been doing and people think we're showing off. -- They say: "Oh look at the beatniks!"It is our loss that one of the things that made Jack happy was alcohol, which is what killed him at the age of 47.
While it is possible for people o other nations to admire the writings of Jack Kerouac, I do not think it is particularly easy for them to understand him. There was this strange period between the end of the Second World War and the Kennedy assassinations where we alternated between a manic feeling of can-do pride and the horror of possible nuclear annihilation. To me, Kerouac was the preeminent writer of fiction for that period.
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July 26, 2024Kerouac niet in één keer lezen is als halverwege een zin stoppen.
"I bow to all this, kneel at my pew entryway, and go out, taking one last look at St. Antoine de Padua (St Anthony) Santo Antonio de Padua - Everything is perfect on the street again, the world is permeated with roses of happiness all the time, but none of us know it. The happiness consists in realizing that it is all a great strange dream."
"In America camping is considered a healthy sport for Boy Scouts but a crime for mature men who have made it their vocation. - Poverty is considered a virtue among the monks of civilized nations - in America you spend a night in the calaboose if youre caught short without your vagrancy change (it was fifty cents last I heard of Pard - what now?)"
"I bow to all this, kneel at my pew entryway, and go out, taking one last look at St. Antoine de Padua (St Anthony) Santo Antonio de Padua - Everything is perfect on the street again, the world is permeated with roses of happiness all the time, but none of us know it. The happiness consists in realizing that it is all a great strange dream."
"In America camping is considered a healthy sport for Boy Scouts but a crime for mature men who have made it their vocation. - Poverty is considered a virtue among the monks of civilized nations - in America you spend a night in the calaboose if youre caught short without your vagrancy change (it was fifty cents last I heard of Pard - what now?)"
August 6, 2020
Ik wou dit boek eerst slechts 2 of 3 sterren geven aangezien ik er niet volledig in zat. Door de laatste 3 hoofdstukken (wat over Parijs ging!!!!!) heeft Jack weer bewezen waarom ik zijn boeken lees. Na het lezen over Parijs besef ik des te meer wat moois (heel moois) ik hier moet achterlaten, maar zeker wat moois ik daar allemaal zal ontdekken
November 3, 2012
This is a bunch of short-ish pieces put together by the common theme of Kerouac being alone and going all everywhere.
It's my favorite thing of his I've read yet, and it's mainly because it's easier for me to take him in small doses than large. I don't consider myself to have a short attention span, but reading him, often I'll start to turn to go to the next page then realize my brain has been off on something else while my eyes scanned the words.
Reading (quietly) out loud helped a lot to keep focused on those winding sentences that last 500 words or so, and also help appreciate the auditory lyricism of his prose writing, if that makes sense. 'Mexico Fellaheen' and the bullfight was probably the best single scene to read, while 'The Railroad Earth' had a lot of difficult, well, boring parts until he's actually on the train and traveling; then it's magnificent. 'Alone on a Mountaintop' was like a much more condensed 'Desolation Angels' telling a related, but different story to what's in the full, book version. I admit to preferring this version and it's Catholic-Buddhist conclusion.
It's my favorite thing of his I've read yet, and it's mainly because it's easier for me to take him in small doses than large. I don't consider myself to have a short attention span, but reading him, often I'll start to turn to go to the next page then realize my brain has been off on something else while my eyes scanned the words.
Reading (quietly) out loud helped a lot to keep focused on those winding sentences that last 500 words or so, and also help appreciate the auditory lyricism of his prose writing, if that makes sense. 'Mexico Fellaheen' and the bullfight was probably the best single scene to read, while 'The Railroad Earth' had a lot of difficult, well, boring parts until he's actually on the train and traveling; then it's magnificent. 'Alone on a Mountaintop' was like a much more condensed 'Desolation Angels' telling a related, but different story to what's in the full, book version. I admit to preferring this version and it's Catholic-Buddhist conclusion.
June 16, 2014
Конденсированный Керуак. Все темы, весь диапазон приемов - от ономатопеи и "спонтанного письма" до тру-журналистики, практически весь спектр персонажей - и вновь по тому же кругу мирской суеты, что и в остальных книгах, но вкратце. Если начинать с Керуаком знакомство, то, я бы сказал, лучше именно с этой книжки.
Человек здесь - и герой-рассказчик, и читатель с ним заодно - в непрестанном поиске нуль-родины. Это, пожалуй, свойственно всем битникам и всем их текстам, но в "Одиноком страннике" ощущается как-то особенно остро.
Человек здесь - и герой-рассказчик, и читатель с ним заодно - в непрестанном поиске нуль-родины. Это, пожалуй, свойственно всем битникам и всем их текстам, но в "Одиноком страннике" ощущается как-то особенно остро.
February 1, 2021
Not sure how this has an average of 3.76*. It's wonderful. With feeling he mainlines experience and understanding into words. He's an ordinary person and a beautiful poet. Or is he a beautiful person and an ordinary poet. The book is a bit uneven. The fire spotter, Paris and North Africa sections are the best. Amazing invigorating stuff.
April 29, 2009
Pretty likable collection of short pieces written by Ti-Jean chronicling his railroading man days, jazz parties guzzling dago red piss and more mountaintop madness. Most of it rocks and his stream of consciousness style which rules this book keeps the action fresh and frisky.
March 20, 2019
You can read the review here: http://embracingmybooks.blogspot.be/2...
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July 16, 2023On The Road’u önceleyen bir metin. Gezginliği kendince tanımlıyor ve uyguluyor. Avrupa ve Kuzey Afrika kısımları ilgi çekiciydi.
May 2, 2024
3.6
Still trying to get used to his style, but it's all fairly new to me. It did feel at times like talking to a drunken friend, left me quite confused at some parts.
Even though it has not fully resonated with me yet, I can appreciate it for his unique style that is quite far from the traditional narrative sense whilst capturing the very essence on what it feels like travelling, like a steady stream of snapshots of time and scenes. This might be worth a re-read. Would love to continue with either Dharma Bums or On The Road ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Still trying to get used to his style, but it's all fairly new to me. It did feel at times like talking to a drunken friend, left me quite confused at some parts.
Even though it has not fully resonated with me yet, I can appreciate it for his unique style that is quite far from the traditional narrative sense whilst capturing the very essence on what it feels like travelling, like a steady stream of snapshots of time and scenes. This might be worth a re-read. Would love to continue with either Dharma Bums or On The Road ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
March 14, 2023
I liked how spontaneous his writing appeared, seems to go way back to his childhood where he would get easily influenced by writers, his brother and other stories (other lonesome travellers) and instantly decided to become a writer and lonesome traveller as well. Admittedly, as a non-native English speaker his writing style was confusing at times (maybe he was under some influence of substance?) and I had to re-read many passages in order to follow his journeys; especially the first two trips through Mexico & the US did not catch me. But when he returned to NYC, his writing kind of changed, he turned almost nostalgic and romantic. It made me understand his love for New York. After NYC, he went on a mountain trip by himself and gained deep understanding of human nature through his solitude (he defo dropped some wise words there!).
*After all this fanfare, and even more, I came to a point where I needed solitude and to just stop the machine of “thinking” and “enjoying” what they call “living”, I just wanted to lie in the grass and look at the clouds…”*
Finally, my favourite part was his trip to Europe where he discovered South of France and felt “reborn” between Cézanne trees and Van Gogh cobble stone houses (I quite like his artsy descriptions of French towns). For another 10 minute, he soaked up all my attention with his splendid description of art works at a museum in Paris and if you are familiar with all these artworks, his observations will touch you even more. I guess on a good day, Kerouac really has this ability to captivate his readers with his spontaneous, honest and “hobo” prose writing.
*After all this fanfare, and even more, I came to a point where I needed solitude and to just stop the machine of “thinking” and “enjoying” what they call “living”, I just wanted to lie in the grass and look at the clouds…”*
Finally, my favourite part was his trip to Europe where he discovered South of France and felt “reborn” between Cézanne trees and Van Gogh cobble stone houses (I quite like his artsy descriptions of French towns). For another 10 minute, he soaked up all my attention with his splendid description of art works at a museum in Paris and if you are familiar with all these artworks, his observations will touch you even more. I guess on a good day, Kerouac really has this ability to captivate his readers with his spontaneous, honest and “hobo” prose writing.
November 20, 2018
I've read enough Kerouac at this juncture to feel pretty qualified to make broad statements about his work. Its quality is hugely variable, ranging from gripping, energetic, original prose to truly dreadful and self-indulgent dreck.
I put this one squarely in the good camp, not too far from his masterwork On the Road. In Lonesome Traveler, we're Kerouac's companion as he bounces around corners of America and the world. The book is broken out into sections based on geography, keeping them relatively short and keeping Kerouac mostly focused on this subject, rather than going off the rails.
We are with him working as a trainman, we're with him for a long lonely summer watching for fires from an isolated forest service station, we're with him bumming around Paris. You know the spirit of these books if you've read much Kerouac. He's always interested in involving himself with the adventures of the people he meets on the way, and (when he is at his best) he writes with seemingly effortless zen beauty about how it feels to walk through the big empty spaces of America and the fleeting connections we make to each other.
I put this one squarely in the good camp, not too far from his masterwork On the Road. In Lonesome Traveler, we're Kerouac's companion as he bounces around corners of America and the world. The book is broken out into sections based on geography, keeping them relatively short and keeping Kerouac mostly focused on this subject, rather than going off the rails.
We are with him working as a trainman, we're with him for a long lonely summer watching for fires from an isolated forest service station, we're with him bumming around Paris. You know the spirit of these books if you've read much Kerouac. He's always interested in involving himself with the adventures of the people he meets on the way, and (when he is at his best) he writes with seemingly effortless zen beauty about how it feels to walk through the big empty spaces of America and the fleeting connections we make to each other.
May 20, 2023
I would rate this 2.5 stars if I could have. I wanted to try another Kerouac book after I read “On The Road” a couple years ago, but I keep finding myself disappointed. This book was full of racist and misogynistic imagery that’s truly unsettling. He writes as though he is above the law simply because he is a white male. Perhaps I’m just not a fan of beatnik literature. I wouldn’t call the purpose of the beat generation rejecting economic materialism, but more like freeloading because you don’t want to work. Kerouac contradicts himself many times with this in his novel, wishing for a solitary lifestyle and then dreading it once he has it. Overall I’m sick of Kerouac and probably won’t read something else by him.
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