Beat Classics

Before the hippies of the 60s, there was the Beat Generation, of the 50s, an extremely avante-garde, anti-establishment clique of writers, of whom the most famous were Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and William S. Burroughs.  They refer to each other in their writings and certainly ran together in the same circles.  Neal Cassady was one of their buddies, but I haven’t read The First Third, his only known novel; Cassady also became one of Ken Kesey’s Merry Pranksters, as the driver of Furthur, the psychedelically painted school bus (as described in Tom Wolfe’s The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test). 

 I won’t comment on Howl, Ginsberg’s most famous work (or his poetry), but I will address the ones I have read:

 The Naked Lunch, by William S. Burroughs (not to be confused with Edgar Rice Burroughs, the author of Tarzan and John Carter).  This was a remarkably tortured and nonsensical collage of word salad and psychedelic imagery, so strange and twisted – and completely and deliberately devoid of any discernable plot – that the entire effect is that of a bad acid trip or a nightmare.  Oh, and the author’s homosexuality was rampant, front-center, incapable of being surgically removed from the story as it accounts for 60% of the action.  WSB, although married (he killed his wife by misadventure, a William Tell “shoot the apple off her head with a gun” mishap) was clearly, 100% flaming.  Women come off as alien beings not even the same species as men, as misogynistically portrayed as the cartoon animated vagina in “Pink Floyd the Wall”.  The only concept which competes with gay sex in this story is heroin addiction and the spectacular lows to which a junkie will descend to get his fix – including gay sex.  To the extent any moral can be discerned in this whole wacked out story, it is: if you get hooked on heroin, you WILL blow someone.

            David Cronenburg, a horror movie guy, managed to make this into a movie – no mean feat given the afore-mentioned absence of a plot – and didn’t do too badly.  The gay element was still there, but toned down considerably (though still recognizable).  Peter Weller plays the WSB character, Ian Holm and Roy Scheider are in here too, plus an array of talking typewriters who turn into loathsome, talking insects.  Very weird, but hardly any weirder than the book. 

 On the Road, by Jack Kerouac.  Sal Paradiso (this novel’s obvious alter-ego of Kerouac) starts off in Paterson, NJ, and works his way cross-country several times; his West Coast destination is usually San Francisco, by way of Denver.  Written and taking place before the highway system was installed (or the NJ Turnpike), the story necessarily involves an array of rarely-named routes which complicates the task of any modern-day intrepid souls daring to repeat SP’s feat.  Sometimes he hitchhikes, sometimes he takes the bus, and sometimes he drives; his driving buddy is Dean Moriarty (a fictionalized but accurate version of Neal Cassady).  Allen Ginsberg also appears (as Carlo Marx) as does William S. Burroughs (Old Bull Lee).  Dean is close to the focal character:  he dallies with a pair of women, Camille and Marylou, never quite sure which one he’ll settle down with – if either.    I have to admit it must be the ultimate road trip book, though I’m not that impressed with it – like The Great Gatsby, it’s one of these highly overrated “classics” which guys like to refer to in order to pump up their own cred and mystique.  That, and a favorite of high school English teachers, many of whom struck me as enthralled with Kerouac in a vicarious manner, the same way rock journalists worship Keith Richards.  Unlike Naked Lunch, OTR does NOT go into any of the alleged homosexual relationship between Kerouac and Cassady.  Although I consider it overrated, it was certainly enjoyable to read – particularly on the bus to or from New York City.

            They’ve FINALLY made this into a movie, VERY recently – it was panned at Cannes.  Walter Salles, the Brazilian film maker (“Central Station”, “Motorcycle Diaries”, and “Paris, Je T’aime” are his more famous works), directed: The cast includes Sam Riley as Sal, Garrett Hedlund (from “Tron Legacy”) as Dean, Kristen Stewart (aka “Bella”) as Marylou, Kirsten Dunst (Maryjane no more, it seems) as Camille, and Viggo ‘Aragorn” Mortensen as Old Bull Lee.  I can’t seem to find a US release date, “but I’ll see it when it comes out,” even if it winds up being one of those limited artsy release theaters.