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Jack Kerouac

Jack Kerouac was an American novelist and poet, a pioneer of the Beat Generation whose writings paved the way for a cultural revolution. His On the Road (1957) has been translated into 32 languages and has sold over four million copies.

Jack Kerouac was born in Lowell, Massachusetts. Raised in a French-Canadian family, he was fluent in French before mastering English, which later enriched his narrative style.

After high school, Kerouac earned a football scholarship to Columbia University, but a leg injury halted his athletic prospects. This twist of fate kept him in New York City, where he fully embraced its rich cultural and artistic tapestry.

During the 1940s, Kerouac began mingling with figures who would become icons of the Beat Generation, including Allen Ginsberg and William S. Burroughs.

His early literary efforts culminated in his first novel, The Town and the City (1950), but On the Road (1957) made him an American literary icon. The book tells the story of Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty's cross-country adventures. Based on Kerouac's experiences with Neal Cassady, it is mostly autobiographical. The story captured the spirit of his generation and continues to influence writers and artists today.

The success opened the door to other significant works, including The Dharma Bums (1958) and Big Sur (1962), which extensively explored themes of existential search and personal revelation.

Kerouac was also known for his contributions to poetry and was integral in developing a new poetic rhythm that mirrored the improvisational nature of jazz, a strong influence on his writing. His approach to poetry, like his novels, emphasized spontaneity and the raw conveyance of emotion, which he described as a "blues" session in literary form.

Despite his success, Kerouac's later years were marked by a decline in his health, exacerbated by years of excessive drinking. He died of an abdominal hemorrhage on October 21, 1969.
years of life: 12 March 1922 21 October 1969

Quotes

Jezza Gearhas quoted2 years ago
They rushed down the street together, digging everything in the early way they had, which later became so much sadder and perceptive and blank. But then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because 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!" What did they call such young people in Goethe's Germany? Wanting dearly to learn how to write like Carlo, the first thing you know, Dean was attacking him with a great amorous soul such as only a con-man can have. "Now, Carlo, let me speak – here's what I'm saying… " I didn't see them for about two weeks, during which time they cemented their relationship to fiendish allday-allnight-talk proportions.
Jezza Gearhas quoted2 years ago
The opera was Fidelio. "What gloom!" cried the baritone, rising out of the dungeon under a groaning stone. I cried for it. That's how I see life too.
Jezza Gearhas quoted2 years ago
Great laughter rang from all sides. I wondered what the Spirit of the Mountain was thinking, and looked up and saw jackpines in the moon, and saw ghosts of old miners, and wondered about it. In the whole eastern dark wall of the Divide this night there was silence and the whisper of the wind, except in the ravine where we roared; and on the other side of the Divide was the great Western Slope, and the big plateau that went to Steamboat Springs, and dropped, and led you to the western Colorado desert and the Utah desert; all in darkness now as we fumed and screamed in our mountain nook, mad drunken Americans in the mighty land. We were on the roof of America and all we could do was yell, I guess – across the night, eastward over the Plains, where somewhere an old man with white hair was probably walking toward us with the Word, and would arrive any minute and make us silent.
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