On the Road - Jack Kerouac

Alas, it promised much and delivered sparely.

 

"On the Road" is a book that seems to be written as man would tell a long collection of anecdotes. Somewhere I saw it referred as a  stream of conscience kind of writing. It does feel like a never stopping river: some fast stretches, distressing rapids, slow moving distances and turbulent bits. Plus some breath-taking snaps. It produced in me what a boat ride might: excitement, nausea, boredom.

 

What I liked the most was the advantage the author took of the oral quality of it. Whenever he prologued, hilarity tended to ensue, but even when it didn't, the condensed, sometimes understated, sometimes downright apologetic introductions always read like an embarrassed guy getting fidgety before taking courage and diving into the story to me. And there it's the fun.

 

It's crazy college guys running around, trying to find themselves. Very crazy, lost and lonely guys, always on the move, chasing the sun, forever restless. I got tired of the abandon around the middle, but stayed for the occasional blue fireworks.