On the Road by
Jack Kerouac
My rating:
2 of 5 stars
This is my second attempt at writing this review. The first time my computer crashed so I'm already pretty hot over this over hyped p.o.s. So here's attempt #2.
*Please forgive my ranting.*
My personal situation for the last month has been quite crap-tastic!
Back when I met my husband around 15 years ago I promised that I would one day read this book, since he swore to me was one of his all time favorites. I tried reading it many times, and I felt mystically compelled to hold off reading this for either extenuating circumstances, extreme boredom or sever depression. WARNING DO NOT READ WHEN DEPRESSED!
In the 13 years of our marriage my husband's demons of addiction landed him in county incarceration for the first time. Even though I have been quietly attempting, for years, to move mountains, and lasso the moon just to keep him sober, and out of jail. So having a month of loneliness and anxiety, and then at last peace; I was intent on finding out what it was about this book that has so influenced the man I've loved. The peace I feel is what is bugging me.
Today I can officially say that I have kept my word, about having read this. Finally this is where
I have two amazing children with him, that are above the bar in their education through my constant efforts. For eleven years my children and I have gone without so many times, and sacrificed so much. The agonizing stress of living with my parents for two years after my husband discharged from Active Duty Army; led to my appendix and spleen rupturing within a month. Permanently taking me out of the labor job field. (When jobs were oh so plentiful in Alabama, and right when I was finding a profession I enjoyed. Insulation Installation.) Yet until now I have refused to apply for disability; our country is in enough debt, I don't want to add to it.
This was three years ago, and the pieces started to click into place. Missing money, the staring off into space, Pawning the car title without my knowledge, and general neglect over the years, and now subsequent jail time.(There's a whole essay of what I have left out. Be grateful.)
Me wearing the same clothes for over 6 years, and never allowed to use the only car by myself. (Honestly I'm not a normal woman. I have no personal greed(I'm just grateful to be alive), and books are free at the library. The library is up the street, as is the school, and like Matilda we go quite often. Seems that it was finally the time to do my own writing.) Do I sound like the beginning of a HallMark movie yet? Recovery is a daily fu(k1ng Battle, and you have to get up and put your armor on. Face it then conquer it. Rinse, repeat. EVERY. DAMNED. DAY. The only thing is that you must want it for yourself, and no one else.
This book is persuasively persistent about romanticizing Amphetamines, Alcohol, Benzedrine, Abuse (drug and domestic), and a life filled with constant debauchery.
*It seems that Hunter S. Thompson also shared a lot of these ideas in his writings as well*
This Book Makes Me so Angry! The misogyny, the sexism, extortion of the elderly, child abandonment, domestic abuse, and immorality! The main character and his insane sidekick cared little for anything except where their next drink, fix, or piece of tail was coming from. (Though this is what it is to be an addict.)
It also seemed that Kerouac cared little for pointing out over half of this $h1t is morally wrong on many levels. All while flaunting the rules of: grammar, at times proper spelling, or picking and sticking with a writing style. Trolls don't even come at me with 'but that was his point.' No that was just being lazy, and doped up on Benzedrine.
*This makes my inner Grammar Nazi cringe, curl into the fetal position, and mindlessly scream expletives until the cows come home.*
This was Jack Kerouac's attitude towards love and women. Plus, most of the journey wouldn't fly with today's law enforcement or economy.
What bothered me the most though was the kids in this book. You meet all of these kids, and suddenly Sal and Dean are off again. (Hmmm. That's almost similar to Supernatural, but I digress.)
These two would step in and play dad for a while, while mom worked her ass off to support their habits; then leave when the horse went lame or the milk cow dried up. Pet peeve of mine just so happens to be about room mates or friends that just use you as a stepping stone to step out. (I shit you not, my husband did exactly as Dean did to Sal in the hospital. Now I really have no clue as to how I should proceed. Advice people, please give it up!)
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the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!"
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Me wearing the same clothes for over 6 years, and never allowed to use the only car by myself. (Honestly I'm not a normal woman. I have no personal greed(I'm just grateful to be alive), and books are free at the library. The library is up the street, as is the school, and like Matilda we go quite often. Seems that it was finally the time to do my own writing.) Do I sound like the beginning of a HallMark movie yet? Recovery is a daily fu(k1ng Battle, and you have to get up and put your armor on. Face it then conquer it. Rinse, repeat. EVERY. DAMNED. DAY. The only thing is that you must want it for yourself, and no one else. 
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