February 28, 2015
This book is similar to On the Road in that it is a fictionalization of Kerouac's own experiences and some of the people that he met. This book seems more mature in some ways than the former, and it does cover a later period in Kerouac's life. He's still hitch hiking and living an "unconventional" life, but this time, there seems to be more spirituality, and less "looking for kicks."
Ray Smith, the narrator, is Kerouac himself. He is again influenced by a friend: Japhy Ryder (Gary Snyder IRL), a "Zen poet" who is fascinated by eastern religions and cultures, particularly Buddhism. Smith himself practices his own form of Buddhism, though he doesn't necessarily agree with even the basic principles of the religion. Ryder, Smith, and their California-based crew were hippies before it was cool to be a hippie. Some might say that their flimsy devotion to some aspects of Buddhism is shallow, but I disagree. Real spirituality has nothing to do with religious doctrine, and these people seemed to get that. They were looking for a deeper meaning to life in an America that was becoming more and more soulless and materialistic.
I have almost no patience for Christian hypocrites. Smith reflects at one point on his love for Jesus, though he never attends church and definitely identifies as a Buddhist. How many Christians out there blindly follow church doctrine (like, say, not ending meat on Fridays during Lent) without knowing the meaning behind it? How many of them are blind to the fact that most churches have moved away from the teachings of Jesus? I may have put it on this blog before, but I'll say it again: some of the most evil, despicable people on earth are the leaders of "mega-churches," and any religious leader who spews hate from the pulpit.
Anyway, Smith and Ryder and their friends are religious in their own ways. They live simple lives and abhor decadence, materialism, and the middle class lifestyle. I totally get what they're saying. Kerouac's works give me a certain longing, because I'm aware all the time of how chained down I am by my responsibilities. These days my only debt is of the student loan variety, but it's substantial to say the least. The part of me that buys into the teachings of my middle class upbringing wants to grow my savings to put into a down payment for a house, while the Kerouac-esque part of me (that's been there for a very long time) wants me to pay off those loans as quickly as possible so I can run off to live a simple solitary life. Or better yet, let the loans go into default and run off anyway. Ha! Yeah, right.
The life that Kerouac describes is harder and harder to picture in today's world. East has met West, but Western culture is winning out. At the end of the book, Smith stands on a mountain with a breathtaking view, having spent the summer there watching for wildfires for the department of forestry (or something like that), and he exults at his freedom. Is such freedom possible today? It makes my heart ache to think that it may not be.
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