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The Dharma Bums (Penguin Classics Deluxe…
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The Dharma Bums (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition) (original 1958; udgave 2006)

af Jack Kerouac (Forfatter)

MedlemmerAnmeldelserPopularitetGennemsnitlig vurderingOmtaler
7,337741,232 (3.87)74
Two ebullient young men are engaged in a passionate search for dharma, or truth. Their major adventure is the pursuit of the Zen way, which takes them climbing into the high Sierras to seek the lesson of solitude, a lesson that has a hard time surviving their forays into the pagan groves of San Francisco's Bohemia with its marathon wine-drinking bouts, poetry jam sessions, experiments in "yabyum," and similar nonascetic pastimes.… (mere)
Medlem:dclarke
Titel:The Dharma Bums (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)
Forfattere:Jack Kerouac (Forfatter)
Info:Penguin Classics (2006), Edition: Deluxe, 187 pages
Samlinger:Dit bibliotek
Vurdering:
Nøgleord:Ingen

Work Information

Dharma bums : roman af Jack Kerouac (1958)

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At the most superficial—and silly—level, I have long felt a connection to Jack Kerouac because we share a birthday; he turned 34 the day I was born. The following year, in 1957, Kerouac’s novel, On the Road, introduced much of the world to the Beat Generation, and maybe because on some cosmic level that mindset was part of the world I came into, I have felt drawn to many of the Beats—Allen Ginsberg, William S. Burroughs, Gregory Corso, Neal Cassady, LeRoi Jones (k/k/a Amiri Baraka), and later, previously overlooked, in my opinion, Diane di Prima and Ruth Weiss and other women writers too often in the shadow of the men.

I read On the Road in my first semester of college, when I was taking creative writing for my English requirement. It was the only one of my five classes I liked. I read and wrote prolifically, mostly poetry and some short essays or character sketches, to the detriment of The Challenge of Chemistry, Sociology of the Family, Psychology, and French. I just wanted to read and write. In that way, at the lofty age of 18, I was as self-centered and self-indulgent as the characters in Kerouac’s books, although even then, the characters irked me in ways I could not explain, and the whole premise of these personal quests both intrigued and annoyed me. I only see this now, through the lens of decades of adult responsibility and the acquired knowledge of our human interdependency. I was not as impressed with On the Road as I had expected to be; it seemed aimless. I put Kerouac aside for more than four decades.

I picked The Dharma Bums for a prompt in the 2021 PopSugar Reading Challenge, for a book by a writer who shares my astrological sign. I thought of Kerouac, my birthday twin. Now that I have read The Dharma Bums, I understand that my own love of language and its rhythms and of fluid storytelling draws me to Kerouac now, even if I still find these characters self-indulgent and maybe more than a little self-delusional. But this one was more lyrical, more stream-of-conscious, more fluid. The first sentence grabbed me, set the pace, signaled that this book—unlike On the Road—had a destination. "Hopping a freight out of Los Angeles at high noon one day in late September 1955 I got on a gondola and lay down with my duffel bag under my head and my knees crossed and contemplated the clouds as we rolled north to Santa Barbara." And so I met footloose, meaning-of-life-seeking-through-Buddhism Ray Smith, the narrator. Kerouac’s alter ego. Another American white man privileged to indulge in hedonistic self-discovery. Along the way we recognize other Beats: Gary Snyder in the character of Japhy Ryder, Allen Ginsberg in the character of Alvah Goldberg. I had not realized how autobiographical this story was.

The quest at the center of the novel is not the hero’s quest that is a staple of the Western canon, but rather a personal quest that involves anything but Buddha-like self-indulgences like boozing and drugging and womanizing and misogynistic attitudes. During the time in which the story is set, a personal quest like this, hiking into the mountains, alone or with one or two others, was a uniquely (white) male opportunity and experience. The rest of us, in general, learned by necessity much sooner that the world was not about us, that fulfilling responsibilities left little time for indulging in a self-quest of this type, and that mastering the here and now presents enough of a challenge to make life meaningful. Perhaps this book and the rest of Kerouac’s life can serve as a cautionary tale: failing to moderate one’s ego and base impulses eventually wastes you much sooner than your talents responsibly used—not for what made you feel good but on how you made the person on whom you shine your charity feel—could have taken you. Despite my issue with the theme, I still enjoyed, and at time was mesmerized by, Kerouac’s poetic use of language and its rhythms that was integral to the telling of this tale. At the beginning of the final chapter, I was taken by the images of this moment:

"August finally came in with a blast that shook my house and augured little augusticity. I made raspberry Jell-o the color of rubies in the setting sun. Mad, raging sunsets poured in sea foams of cloud of unimaginable crags, with every rose-tint of a hope beyond ."

I decided to use one of my Audible credits and listen to this as an audiobook. It was compellingly read by Ethan Hawke, which added another dimension to the sound of the language as the story unfolded.
( )
  bschweiger | Feb 4, 2024 |
I think maybe I did finish it? I liked his prose a lot, but didn't like this one as much as "On The Road"
  dtscheme | Jan 1, 2024 |
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. ( )
  thorold | Nov 24, 2023 |
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. ( )
  k6gst | Oct 6, 2023 |
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. ( )
  Nealmaro | Jul 28, 2023 |
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I Dharma Bums jagter hovedpersonen og Kerouacs alter ego, Ray Smith, friheden i sandheden. Helten i ”Dharma Bums” er rykket naturen og Østens filosofi nærmere i søgen efter et liv, der hæver sig over den almindelig amerikansk konformisme og småborgerlighed. Det er denne turen på afveje, der har gjort Jack Kerouac til helgen og hans bøger til bibler for ensomme ulve i alle aldre ... Med sin messende, prisning af det enkle liv – visdommen i en bjergskrænt, en skål varm suppe, det lægende i den kølige morgenbrise og så videre – er Dharma Bums en hyldest til et liv hævet over materielt begær. Ray Smiths fortællertone er lige så slentrende, tilbagelænet og lige ud ad landevejen som det trip, han er ude på. Værsgo! – beretningen om en drifters vej til sandheden, nøgternt registrerende og uden domme, præcis som buddhismen foreskriver. Det er fedt.
tilføjet af 2810michael | RedigerBørsen, Christa Leve Poulsen
 
Arne Herløv Petersens oversættelse af Kerouacs prosa glider ubesværet fremad i lange glidende bevægelser.
tilføjet af 2810michael | RedigerWeekendavisen, Nikolaj M. Lassen
 
Sproglig er romanen fantastisk og ikke til at sætte en finger på overhovedet, et sanseligt og detaljerigt sprog, der kun kan sammenlignes med de store forfattere, Dostojevskij, Hamsun og man kommer også til at tænke på H. C. Andersen i alle de her myldrende beskrivelser, hvor alt er levende og hvor naturen i høj grad besynges og besjæles.
tilføjet af 2810michael | RedigerDR Kulturnyt, Michael Halskov Christensen
 
Man kan glæde sig over, at Roskilde Bogcafé nu omsider har gjort dette hovedværk tilgængeligt for alle, der ønsker et indblik i beatgenerationens flirt med østlig filosofi.
tilføjet af 2810michael | RedigerInformation, Lars Movin
 
Det er en stor og vigtig begivenhed, når det brave lille forlag Roskilde Bogcafé - med 42 års forsinkelse - udsender en af beatforfatteren Jack Kerouacs smukkeste, lettest tilgængelige og mest profetiske romaner på dansk ... Arne Herløv Petersen står bag denne fine fordanskning af Kerouacs saftige naturlyrik, swingende sproglige flow, rundtossede zen-lommefilosofi og heftige metaforiske energi.
tilføjet af 2810michael | RedigerBerlingske Tidende, Henrik List
 

» Tilføj andre forfattere (55 mulige)

Forfatter navnRolleHvilken slags forfatterVærk?Status
Kerouac, Jackprimær forfatteralle udgaverbekræftet
Douglas, AnnIntroduktionmedforfatternogle udgaverbekræftet
JasonOmslagsfotograf/tegner/...medforfatternogle udgaverbekræftet
Phillips, BaryeOmslagsfotograf/tegner/...medforfatternogle udgaverbekræftet
Powers, Richard MOmslagsfotograf/tegner/...medforfatternogle udgaverbekræftet
Vandenbergh, JohnOversættermedforfatternogle udgaverbekræftet
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Hopping a freight out of Los Angeles at high noon one day in late September 1955 I got on a gondola and lay down with my duffel bag under my head and my knees crossed and contemplated the clouds as we rolled north to Santa Barbara.
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Two ebullient young men are engaged in a passionate search for dharma, or truth. Their major adventure is the pursuit of the Zen way, which takes them climbing into the high Sierras to seek the lesson of solitude, a lesson that has a hard time surviving their forays into the pagan groves of San Francisco's Bohemia with its marathon wine-drinking bouts, poetry jam sessions, experiments in "yabyum," and similar nonascetic pastimes.

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Efterladte bibliotek: Jack Kerouac

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