Kerouac tells us about Buddhism, about climbing a mountain with the poet Gary Snyder (“Japhy Ryder” in the book), about hitchhiking and train-hopping across America, about the famous Gallery Six poetry reading, and about the mystical experience of firewatching solo on Desolation Peak. And, of course there's a certain amount of taking your clothes off and partying.

Contrary to all my preconceptions about Kerouac, he turns out to be a very disciplined, focussed writer, and this is an extraordinarily lovely book to read. It can be lyrical, down to earth, or even surprisingly funny. It's of its time and has its faults, naturally: it could use a few more commas, there's an unnecessary amount of misogyny, and some of the Buddhist stuff feels like naive mumbo-jumbo from this distance. The whole ethic of mystical vagrancy only makes sense if you have other people somewhere who are doing the work that makes that lifestyle possible (you can't hop freight trains unless someone is running industries that produce and consume stuff that needs to be transported, after all): it seems like an incredibly selfish, elitist way of finding spiritual fulfilment. But maybe that's taking it all too literally. Kerouac isn't saying that we should all go and live on top of mountains, he's pointing out that engaging with society can be a choice, even if it feels like a forced choice for most of us. ( )

Good, but I'm more of a Gary Snyder fan than a Jack Kerouac fan.

Per Kim Stanley Robinson, the section about climbing the Sierra Matterhorn is some of the best Sierra writing. I agree. ( )

I really enjoyed this book. When one of the characters - I think it was Morley - mentioned Ragusa/Dubrovnik (where I currently am and in some sense from), that was a very enjoyable coincidence. It's always nice to cherish the moments when works of literature affirm little pieces of your existence. ( )

I read this close to 50 years ago when I was 16. I remember that I liked it, but having just read it again I wonder how much of it I really understood. Kerouac's characters are so often messed up, and in this case alarmingly not charmingly childish, yet still, like in On the Road there is a human energy, honesty and (oddly considering some of the Buddhist thinking) a joy in living and exploring that still appeals to me strongly. ( )

One of Kerouac’s best. ( )