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A review by theuncultured
The Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac
5.0
"Are we fallen angels who didn't want to believe that nothing is nothing and so were born to lose our loved ones and dear friends one by one and finally our own life, to see it proved?"
At a first glance The Dharma Bums seems to be a book about a bunch of lazy wannabe Buddhists who claim to understand the world better than the rest of us who live our lives "imprisoned in a system of work, produce, consume, work, produce, consume." However as the story rolls on, you become enmeshed with these characters who somehow go on to create a new poetry-driven counter-culture that blurs the lines between life and art, desire and talent. They lead interesting yet repulsive lives at most, the misogyny isn't lost on me, but their manner is seductive wherever it goes. You are both appalled, ashamed, and excited by news of their movement.
Kerouac gives me this intense energy almost every time I read him and I don't know what to do with it because I'm not a writer and my life is much more stable than anything in this book. He has a way of leaving you with a sense of grand joy and happiness. I am awed by everything the characters got up to, I understand their flaws and mishaps and I salute them for bringing it to us through text, especially dear Jack who, despite my natural instincts, keeps recurring as a deadbeat with the sharpest soul in the world.
What I most enjoyed about this book is that it felt like I was sitting in a room with someone familiar who was simply telling me what he had been up to.
At a first glance The Dharma Bums seems to be a book about a bunch of lazy wannabe Buddhists who claim to understand the world better than the rest of us who live our lives "imprisoned in a system of work, produce, consume, work, produce, consume." However as the story rolls on, you become enmeshed with these characters who somehow go on to create a new poetry-driven counter-culture that blurs the lines between life and art, desire and talent. They lead interesting yet repulsive lives at most, the misogyny isn't lost on me, but their manner is seductive wherever it goes. You are both appalled, ashamed, and excited by news of their movement.
Kerouac gives me this intense energy almost every time I read him and I don't know what to do with it because I'm not a writer and my life is much more stable than anything in this book. He has a way of leaving you with a sense of grand joy and happiness. I am awed by everything the characters got up to, I understand their flaws and mishaps and I salute them for bringing it to us through text, especially dear Jack who, despite my natural instincts, keeps recurring as a deadbeat with the sharpest soul in the world.
What I most enjoyed about this book is that it felt like I was sitting in a room with someone familiar who was simply telling me what he had been up to.