Desolation angels

by Jack Kerouac

Other authorsSeymour Krim
Paperback, 1979

Library's rating

Publication

London Panther 1979

ISBN

0586038299 / 9780586038291

Language

Description

A young man searches for meaning, creates art, and grapples with fame as he traverses the stomping grounds of the Beat Generation-from Mexico City to Manhattan-in Jack Kerouac's semi-autobiographical novel This urgently paced yet deeply introspective novel closely tracks On the Road author Jack Kerouac's own life. Jack Duluoz journeys from the Cascade Mountains to San Francisco, Mexico City, New York, and Tangier. While working as a fire lookout on Desolation Peak in the Cascades, Duluoz contemplates his inner void and the distressing isolation brought on by his youthful sense of adventure. In Tangier he suffers a similar feeling of desperation during an opium overdose, and in Mexico City he meets up with a morphine-addicted philosopher and seeks an antidote to his solitude in a whorehouse. As in Kerouac's other novels, Desolation Angels features a lively cast of pseudonymous versions of his fellow Beat poets, including William S. Burroughs (as Bull Hubbard), Neal Cassady (as Cody Pomeray), and Allen Ginsberg (as Irwin Garden). Duluoz draws readers into the trials and tribulations of these literary iconoclasts-from drug-fueled writing frenzies and alcoholic self-realizations to frenetic international road trips and tumultuous love affairs. Achieving literary success comes with its own consequences though, as Duluoz and his friends must face the scrutiny that comes with rising to the national stage.… (more)

User reviews

LibraryThing member Robert_R._Mitchell
Desolation Angels is heaven and hell and the world and America and the Void and his Mom. Kerouac/Duluoz is a despicable, noble, earnest, loving, whiny, brilliant, loyal, weak, irreplaceable, insane jazz poet. As a preamble, listen to Bob Dylan’s Desolation Row and realize how he creates
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surprisingly linear beauty tangentially, and then crank up the random-o-meter one hundred times for Kerouac. One thousand preliminarily random images turn into a masterful Pointillist painting in prose. Bebop improvisation touching on a particular theme from a million different angles placates those of us requiring a story if we are patient. His prose is so poetic at times that it’s exhausting; infinitely compressed like a neutron star. In Desolation Angels he is Dharma Bum, addict, alcoholic, villain, criminal, poet, preacher, seer, mystic and finally Penitente and Bodhisattva having simultaneously reached the gates of Heaven/Nirvana and found himself unforgivable. From Desolation Peak and Seattle to Frisco; to Mexico City and New York; across the Atlantic to Tangiers, Paris and London; from Florida to Berkeley and back again; Desolation Angels is “ontogeny recapitulating phylogeny;” his whole rucksack (lost and found); every work, every poem, every sketch every howl. Ginsberg, Dali, Burroughs are all there, the pantheon of crazy pathetic beat angels.
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LibraryThing member gerg
The first part of Desolation Angels (the book is split into three distinct parts) can be quite difficult. It took me several attempts to get through it. Much of it is verbatim excerpts from Kerouac's journals while he was serving a summer as a fire lookout, alone atop a mountain in the North
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Cascades. The prose is rambling and abstract, though containing some excellent observations on life, childhood, memory, and dreams. It also documents Kerouac's struggle with Buddhism. I say "struggle" in the best possible way, the adoption of any new faith is not, nor should it ever be, easy.

After Kerouac finally descends from the mountain and heads toward his familiar haunts in San Francisco and on the road, the book becomes slightly more like "The Dharma Bums," the novel which chronologically precedes "Desolation Angels" in the grand Vanity of Duluoz arch. Even more than in any of his previous works, Kerouac appears to strain under the pressure of balancing his wine- and people-loving sides with his side that just wants to return to his contemplations in solitude. Solitude and desolation play great roles in this book, contrasting with Jack's sociability, rising fame, and excitement about the ascendancy of the Beat Generation.

Altogether, not always Kerouac's most readable work, but well worth the effort.
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LibraryThing member EricaKline
Poetic, lyrical, steam-of-consciousness...about being alone, traveling, and his friends.
LibraryThing member derfla3101980
great work of the beat lit. generation Always come back to this after "on The Road"
LibraryThing member Arctic-Stranger
Kerouac was more than just a road happy bum. Here is sketches the Spiritual life of the Beat Generation. Not an easy read, and not for everyone.
LibraryThing member selfcallednowhere
As is often the case, Jack manages to talk about not doing a hell of a lot besides running around with his pals and still make it sensitive, spiritual, and entertaining.
LibraryThing member kcshankd
Re-read after many years, now older than Jack ever experienced.

This doesn't hold up to my recollection, but how could it? Dharma Bums may be his only work still read, or worth reading, in a few more decades. It's all Jack, straight through.
LibraryThing member Stahl-Ricco
Jack is in northwest Washington for a fire lookout job - with no liquor or drugs! Then, when the job is done, he hitchhikes to Seattle. Then a bus to San Francisco, rucksack still in hand. And then he “…hopped that freight down to L.A. and headed for Old Mexico and a resumption of my solitude
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in a hovel in the city.” Then, off to NYC! And then, a boat ride across the sea to Tangiers! Over to Europe, back to the U.S., then across the country with his mom. Then back.

Well, I liked this book much more the first time I read it. This time, I just liked it okay. I don't remember Kerouac being so whiny. Even when "On the Road" is published near the end of this novel, he just seems put out. I thought I remembered this book as a fun adventure story, but this time around, it felt more like a sad man who is lost and all alone in the fame he thought he wanted.
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Original publication date

1965
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