Starred review from March 13, 2006
Somewhere between diary, verbal sketchbook and play-by-play account of whatever passed before his eyes, this collection of poems transcribed from notebooks Kerouac kept in his pocket between 1952 and 1954 turns out to rank with his most interesting work. From clipped descriptions of America's underbelly ("a pile of junk, —& the/ girders of the viaduct have / great black bolt heads/ like knobs of a / sweating steel black/ city") to vague hipster prophesying ("The next great con-/ flict will be between/ Hip & Christ"), Whitmanesque embraces of his fellow man ("...I have cared/ for ye dutchmen"), love notes to famous beatnik friends ("O Allen Sad Allen Ah / Mystery") and sad, self-deprecating prayers ("Drink is good for/ love — good for/ music — let it/ be good for writing"), Kerouac hits all the notes for which he and his fellow beats are known. While not everything here is golden, the immediacy and unpretentiousness of this off-the-cuff writing makes it an intimate glimpse into the consciousness of a man who simply couldn't stop observing. A short, aggrandizing introduction by painter George Condo sets the tone.
March 15, 2006
Kerouac admirers know of the legendary writer's habit of carrying a small notebook in his shirt pocket to jot down his impressions. But it is not common knowledge that this peripatetic observer typed up the contents of the journals he filled from mid-1952 through 1954 to create a manuscript he titled " Book of Sketches. " This collection of in-the-moment jottings, the literary equivalent of rapidly executed drawings, is now published for the first time. Whitmanesque in his embrace of life, painterly in his details, and enthralled by the texture of language, Kerouac describes the "longroar of sea," hitchhiking in North Carolina, and finding himself naked among trees in Mexico, suffering "the terrible benzedrine / depression after big / night of drinking." He remembers "childhood dreams," wishes for a woman, marvels over the unexpected beauty of a Denver barbershop, and frets over "TV stupidities" and "Americans / who only think in / terms of paranoia & oil." Restless, receptive, and hungry for divinity, Kerouac continues to feed our collective imagination in yet another treasure from his precious archives. (Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2006, American Library Association.)