Showing posts with label Autobiographic. Show all posts

Review: On The Road, Jack Kerouac (1957)


















On The Road is a novel published in 1957 written by Jack Kerouac in which youth meets adult life’s restraints, a novel about travels, a novel about the relentless search for the meaning of life.
In a postwar America these young men in their early twenties refuse to go along with the ride, they are eager to make their own discoveries, their own revolution. And yet they end up founding themselves penniless and most of the times drunk. The insistent pounding of Bebop records echoing throughout.
The writing is fast, sometimes even lunatic. It gets your heart racing. You dream of freeing yourself from whatever is holding you up. But On The Road is not about dreaming, On The Road is a mad river of reckless activity.
Jack Kerouac is Sal Paradise. And it wall begins when he heads to San Francisco with 50 dollars in his pocket.
Neal Cassidy is Dean Moriarty. And that’s when the two meet that the adventure kicks off.
Along the way there is also Old Bull Lee (William Burroughs) and Carlo Marx (Allen Ginsberg). The four columns of the Beat Generation altogether.

However, Truman Capote said: “That’s not writing, that’s typing” and he may have a point. On The Road shines as a biographic narrative but it lacks the grandeur of the great novels of the 20th century.
If you are into the whole Beat Generation thing it is a must read. If not, well, it is up to you to read or not to read.

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Review: American Splendor (2003)




















As promised here it comes, the American Splendor review.

Harvey Pekar is a nobody, he said it himself, who thought he could write comic books inspired by his own life. At first this does not sound like a good match but ,unless “you’re the kind of person looking for romance or escapism or some fantasy figure to save the day”, there might be something for you in this film. Otherwise “guess what? You’ve got the wrong movie”. Once again that’s Pekar himself who is advising you.
American Splendor is a series of comic books written by the aforementioned Harvey Pekar which were then illustrated by other artists like Robert Crumb since Harvey couldn’t draw a straight line. The first number was published in 1976 because Pekar was sick of the formulaic comic stories and so he turned himself into a comic hero but with no idealised sh*t. “Ordinary life is pretty complex stuff”.
2003 was the year his comics were adapted to the big screen with some pretty good reviews. Peter Rainer got it completely right when he stated that it would be a mistake to regard American Splendor as an anthem forthe common man. It is the uncommonthat is being celebrated here. Harvey is a one of a kind character with a somehow self-destructive aura combined with unshakable conviction and an endless passion for his jazz records and books collection.
As for Paul Giamatti’s performance, it is unbelievable. The way he mimics Harvey’s voice and body language is stunning.






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American Splendor, Shari Springer Berman & Robert Pulcini (2003)




Since I’ve lost my eloquence (if I ever had any) somewhere I will just leave you with American Splendor ‘s trailer, a film I watched recently. The “review” will be posted later.




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Sexus, Henry Miller (1949)























 To refer to Henry Miller’s oeuvre as erotic literature is a severe misconception. End of discussion.
Sexus, the first volume of his The Rosy Crucifixion trilogy, is an ode to life. Miller ingeniously shifts from the most ordinary side of life to the most poetic and passionate statement. A big part of what you can read here is autobiographic and that’s why you can feel the power of every single word of his. He may have been an incorrigible bohemian but he was authentic. The story of his hedonist pursue for antidotes to a monotonous life was originally published in Paris, where he was living at the time, during the year 1949 but got censored in the USA and Great Britain for nearly twenty years. This first volume deals with his marriage with Maude during the 20’s when he was still in the USA. Later he gets obsessed with the mysterious and promiscuous Mara. In between the autobiographic episodes Miller addresses a bunch of philosophical issues, such as love and happiness with an unusual acumen.

It’s Sunday so stop whatever you’re doing and give in to the useless art.

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