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On the Road: the Original Scroll
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On the Road: the Original Scroll
Unavailable
On the Road: the Original Scroll
Audiobook12 hours

On the Road: the Original Scroll

Written by Jack Kerouac

Narrated by John Ventimiglia

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

4/5

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Currently unavailable

Currently unavailable

About this audiobook

The legendary 1951 scroll draft of On the Road, published as Kerouac originally composed it

IN THREE WEEKS in April of 1951, Jack Kerouac wrote his first full draft of On the Road-typed as a single-spaced paragraph on eight long sheets of tracing paper, which he later taped together to form a 120-foot scroll. A major literary event when it was published in Viking hardcover in 2007, this is the uncut version of an American classic-rougher, wilder, and more provocative than the official work that appeared, heavily edited, in 1957. This version, capturing a moment in creative history, represents the first full expression of Kerouac's revolutionary aesthetic.

For more than seventy years, Penguin has been the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world. With more than 1,700 titles, Penguin Classics represents a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators.


From the Trade Paperback edition.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 5, 2007
ISBN9781429505710
Unavailable
On the Road: the Original Scroll
Author

Jack Kerouac

Jack Kerouac (1922-1969) es el novelista más destacado y emblemático de la Generación Beat. En Anagrama se han publicado sus obras fundamentales: En el camino, Los subterráneos, Los Vagabundos del Dharma, La vanidad de los Duluoz y En la carretera. El rollo mecanografiado original, además de Cartas, la selección de su correspondencia con Allen Ginsberg, y, con William S. Burroughs, Y los hipopótamos se cocieron en sus tanques.

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Reviews for On the Road

Rating: 3.8810910721247565 out of 5 stars
4/5

513 ratings13 reviews

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  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Read it long time ago, in the seventies, together with Jerry Rubin´s DO IT and liked both, DO IT another more ... great way of living and great time. I am really happy about the film as it brings back some ideas of how to live, of freedom, sure connected with problems to find the right balance, to the next generation(s).
  • Rating: 1 out of 5 stars
    1/5
    Rambling and not that good
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    This book is as crazy as it is beautiful. The road throughout life and America is diverse, maddening, and both nice and mean, as are the books characters. It doesn't have to make sense, and it doesn't have to be right. The story, the lives in this book, are unapologetically themselves, mixed with the crazy, beautiful musings of love and the meaning of life and traveling "The Road". I found this novel to be, like a journey, and a life lived alongside people, that felt real, and when reality and fiction make love, the sweetest things are born.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    I am generally someone that can find good in about any book and this book took work to do so. It was interesting, historically speaking, to see how things have changed from the 1940s to now. There were not any credit cards, barely had cash, yet the characters would take off anywhere hitch hiking or in an old beat up car and go anywhere they wanted. Find work, stay with friends etc....

    The hook for me was that I had heard stories of my dad hitch hiking to California in the 50s. I don't know if drugs, alcohol or music played into it or just the adventure, but I had to ask questions of my aunts and uncles to find more detail of my dads adventures.

    All I can say it the story took place in a different era!
  • Rating: 1 out of 5 stars
    1/5
    Sorry but this book done nothing for me. Very hard to read. Its just the story of Sal Paradise and his very dodgy mate Dean Moriarty travelling across America then ending up in Mexico. We went there then we done this. Thats what the whole book is about there doesnt seem any actual substance to this book. I cant believe how many people rave about this book. I dont know how it got published. I couldnt care less about the 2 characters didnt warm to them at all. All I can say is I am so glad I finished reading it.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I'll give Kerouac credit: On the Road has a propulsive, relentless movement. Bereft of paragraphs or chapter breaks, it just keeps churning along, dragging the reader along for the ride.

    On the other hand, I was more than a little surprised at how small it made everything seem. Where I was expecting something exploring the epic grandeur of America (something more along the line of Steinbeck's Travels with Charlie), Kerouac delivers a story so obsessed with such a small fraction of the country, even as it travels from coast to coast, that I just found myself wondering about all that was omitted. He returns over and over to the same places and the same people, and while I enjoyed their kaleidoscopic bacchanal, I got no sense at all of The Road.

    To be honest, aside from the possibility that it accurately captures the sense of what life was like for that generation (a proposition I'm by no means convinced of), I'm not exactly sure why this is considered such a classic.

    I think the dirty little secret of On the Road is that Kerouac doesn't actually like the road.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I have never read the originally published On the Road, so cannot compare and contrast to this Original Scroll version. Here the characters are not minimally veiled with name changes, rather they are who they are. The language propels the journey forward at breakneck speed - multiple journeys across the country in search of IT. Perhaps it is my age at the first introduction to the stories recounted, but I do not find Neal Cassady particularly charming, stimulating, or fascinating - and wonder what spell he cast over Kerouac and others. It became abundantly clear that I would not have fit in well with the Beat Generation crowd. Yet, in the end, there were a variety of passages that proved powerful in terms of how to approach and react to life's journey and the less than straight path taken along the way. It felt, at times, like Waiting for Godot on speed and with a good dose of sex and jazz thrown in. In the end, it provides insight into the all-too-real search each of us has for meaning, for happiness, for IT. Despite all the partying and shouts of joy along the road, it seems a sad book that reflects a less than successful journey - but perhaps with some hope for a better journey moving forward. I am glad I read it, but will not rush out to buy the initial 1957 publicly available version of On the Road.
  • Rating: 1 out of 5 stars
    1/5
    Interesting story, terrible novel. I'd like to re-title it, "In the Closet." Because that's exactly what it is. The truth of the matter is that this book is about a man's struggle with being homosexual in a culture that was not open or accepting of such things. The way Kerouac would write in great detail about sexual encounters with women in such a way that felt passionless; as if he wrote it just in attempt to prove a point. Where as when he hinted at Neal's homosexuality and even his own, he did so with heart and desire. The last paragraph of the book really cements this concept and made me feel that what he really enjoyed about his travels was simply being with Neal, being close to Neal, holding hands with Neal and not seeming like a homosexual because after all, they were just on a road trip together, right? On The Road wants you to believe that the importance of this book is that a man was brave and decided to seek life, to break out of the mold, kicked off a whole generation of life-seekers. When in truth it's about a grown man living with his mother, going on a trip(s) continually funded by his mother, stealing from whoever he pleases in some sort of selfish grasp at reality.The writing itself is terrible at times. Many times I felt I should put it down and read something else, because I might have well read My Pet Goat. Many sentences make no sense at all. Many ideas are poorly conveyed and make you wonder if it was because he was drunk out of his mind while typing out his memories. Perhaps he just forgot.If you're interested in the Beat generation, sure, you might find this worthy of your time. Otherwise it's a terrible book.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Very interesting, it allows the reader to see exactly what Kerouac was saying before he had to edit himself for the sake of a constipated american populace of the 50's. No real surprises as to the characters, all were well known before. I did reread the published version immediately prior to reading this however. I must say that having read and read this in the space of a month, it certainly has lost some of it's romance. Maybe I'm just getting older, but I certainly don't see Jack and Neil as I used to. Maybe it's Neil I don't see the same way anymore. Maybe I finally realize that at the end of the book, Jack didn't either. Kerouac may have tried to turn the page at the end of the story, but we do know that in real life, by even the early 60's he had succumbed to his own fears, and turned from his Buddhist / Zen explorations back into the depressed gloom that is Catholicism. This is what eventually killed him long before the booze.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Did not enjoy this. I'm sure that's because my generation is terrible, or I don't know how to have fun, or something. But the whole time I was listening to this I kept thinking things like "Really, he's going to leave his second wife for his first wife AGAIN??" and "Why are you friends with this guy, he's an asshole" and "Well maybe you would have enough money for food if you hadn't just spent ALL of your money on beer the night before." Plus, it's some sexist shit. Jack left his first wife to roam around the country with his bat-shit-crazy friend and try to sleep with anything that moved. Then, many years later, he goes back to see his ex(?)-wife. She won't sleep with him, and he finds out that she has a boyfriend. Thus, she must be a whore. uuuuuugghhhhhhhhh.The "Original Scroll" version is basically the manuscript. For some weird reason Kerouac taped all the pages together, end to end, and rolled it into a scroll. Then he left it at someone's house and their dog ate part of it. The names of the real people are not changed and there is more cursing and sex and drugs than the published version. I probably appreciated this more than if I had read the published version with the fake names, but that's not saying much.Another one for the "Glad I read this so that I don't ever have to read it again" pile.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Got about halfway through it. This version is still better than the gussied up version of On the Road that is by now the standard. This is Kerouac’s first go at it, and the language and flow make it a revolutionary classic for the time. Reading it decades later, as a woman reader, it quickly becomes a repetitive description of guys doing what they want, just because they can.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    BOOK ONE:- Long before Snyder philosophized on a future Rucksack Revolution and introduced old Jack K. and thus an entire generation to Buddhism, turning him on to his whole post-artist bhikku phase chasing after a newly redefined IT of ecstatic joy for pure being (and yabyum—lots and lots of yabyum), and even longer before Jack abandoned everything he loved in order to drown himself in Catholicism-induced despair and alcoholism over a 10-year span right up to his ugly cross-haunted death, he was hopping along, following (the impressionable, naïve bastard) the care-free and womanizing Neal Cassady across America time after time, living and documenting from his (Neal’s) side—thankfully leaving out his own personal biases and Catholic beliefs, or at least keeping them subtle, on the down-low, and cetera—creating what he’d later (briefly) refer to as his pre-enlightenment story in On the Road. I almost wish now I skipped the original published edition and just waited for the scroll ed. to get an official 50th anniversary release, b/c this thing is a fucking beast, infinitely superior to the bowdlerized, boring mess (comparatively, that is; the original pub. ain’t all that bad—and am I alone on never liking Jack’s pseudonyms?) that’s held such a profound influence over American youth for the past 50 years, which dropped out much of Kerouac’s point, of bringing the reader with him, Cassady & co. “on the road,” you could say—since the text being one massive paragraph with justified alignment creating the appearance of a road, hur hur, and I know my using that for this post is like, super cheesy, but this is how I get my kicks. It's just a bummer they didn't publish the scroll initially, b/c Lucien Carr's fucking dog Potchky ate the last few pages' worth of scroll b/w rejection and final publication, leaving the scroll hanging midsentence. BOOK TWO:- I’m of the school that sees On the Road as a celebration of life and everything in it rather than a depressing elegy; I believe Kerouac was very much aware of his own naïveté, that his own romantic visions at the end of the tunnel—er, road—are always just that: romantic visions: never to be. He’ll always be building up that excitement and heading for another golden opportunity poppin’ bennies and scouring the land for faceless beauties to pick up and live off of like the sexist ‘50s icons they all were and new jobs new opportunities new faces new experiences and jazz-club freakouts, the IT he and his gang are always going on and on about before dropping everything for another dream and another escape down the road. But hey, a guy’s gotta live somehow, and THIS. IS. LIFE. The only part where I’ve always even back in high school felt his seeking of life seemed to slump and hit the rocks, just plain ol’ get boring as fuck, is when he hooks up with the sweet little Latina beauty Bea and settles down working the cotton fields for far too long and dreaming about being a Mexican himself. BOOK THREE:- This time round all the names of Jack’s friends and acquaintances are back to the REAL, the dear old aunt he was always ripping money off of is back to being his dear old mother he was always ripping money off of and all the downplayed (homo)sexuality is now THERE in our faces as much as it was in Jack’s when Neal and Allen loved one another one couch over or when Jack locked himself in a bathroom with Neal banging away from behind some stranger’s rump on the other side—and it’s these scenes I’m happy Jack’s left out his own Catholic beliefs b/c in truth, in actual life he was disgusted by it, so whew! I’m happy Jack took the backseat and just lived through these trips as a 2-dimensional body for the reader to occupy. Sometimes, knowing the future histories for these characters, the truth that’s now ringing so strongly on Jack’s words adds this eerie layer to their interactions, and perhaps I’m mostly talking about Bill Burroughs and Joan Vollmer here, this deep and psychotic love they had for one another. And yeah, yeah, yeah, the sexism is still here, and all the girls are still cardboard sex objects on the sidelines for Jack and Neal’s amusement, to marry and pop a few kids out of—b/c that’s what just how it went in the ‘50s—and I figure that makes this not the most appealing book for ladies altho still a fascinating look at a culture gone-by and the troubled mind of Kerouac before he lost it all coming down off the aptly-named Desolation Peak in ’58 and commencing his Catholic/alcoholic self-abasement and turning into a big fucking asshole of a human being, disconnecting himself from the Beats and from the hippies (and the Beats that became hippies, e.g., Ginsberg and Cassady) that were about to pop up swinging ragged copies of The Dharma Bums and adding a political edge to the Beat way of life, and this copy, this ORIGINAL SCROLL ed. of On the Road is so much jazzier than the one we’ve all known since ’57, it rolls right along so much smoother and the ups and downs of his journey and our journey zoom past and we don’t really care w/out the chapter-break interruptions of before b/c we’re just moving right along with Kerouac on to the next high. BOOK FOUR:-Even tho I originally read On the Road in high school and didn’t much care for it (or Kerouac) until I picked up Dharma Bums, it influenced me in such a special way as it influenced so many others, getting me to get up off my lazy bum from in front of the old computer and take the hand of whatever friend I’m near at the time and go off on some crazy hitch-hiking adventure across America once or twice a year since 2007, first waking up early one morning, having never been far from the coop on my own, and saying to a friend very seriously “Hey hey, hey, let’s go to Mexico, check out Boy’s Town?” and as a first trip it went exactly like Kerouac’s always did with a depressing anticlimax waiting for us at the end, disappointment and confusion, but any trip since like when I danced all the way to Arizona and all over getting drunk with a Polish man suffering from diarrhea and an English backpacker and a bunch of students from my college in TX at Lowell Observatory and getting stuck in Mund’s Park for hours sunburned to hell and back and getting on to the Arcosanti hippie commune et cetera, overall a much more exciting trip than my first Kerouac-inspired exploration of life and reality and naïveté, just as my last two have also been a big blast—w/ many ups and downs, yes, but a blast nonetheless. BOOK FIVE:- On the Road’s a book that’s needed to be experienced by everyone at a young age, and I’m hoping now that the ORIGINAL SCROLL v.—THE SUPERIOR VERSION—has been released, it’ll be a replacement for the orig. publication, even if the jazzy famous line about the MAD ONES is much weaker this time around we’re still getting at the TRUTH of the trip, the FREEDOM behind America, on the road, celebratory or elegiac feelings American, however you take Kerouac’s poetic journeys from coast to coast and down into the heart of his romanticism and the Mexican dream and the inevitable and incomparable Old Neal Cassady Letdowns and Breakups, the100%[548]---------I shambled after as usual as I’ve been doing all my life after people that interest me, because the only people that interest me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing., but burn, burn, burn like roman candles across the night.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    My first experience of On the Road was this quotation:

    “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.”

    It was actually quoted in a fanfiction, as Axel's favourite book (Kingdom Hearts AU). It's stuck with me, ever since: not the fanfiction itself, but the quotation. For that, I've loved Kerouac from afar, not daring to try reading it because that quote told me all I needed to know.

    Actually, I kind of wish I was still in that state of not having read On the Road. Because it's not really my kind of book, and I think I've always known that. There are bits of it that are, well, like fabulous roman candles, but I don't have the patience with the narration to get to them before I'm annoyed. It's not an atmosphere that appeals to me, not a mindset I can really get behind, so...

    But On the Road is still deservedly a classic, and the book has travelled with me for long enough -- for a few years, in physical form, between various student houses; for longer than that, with the quotation in my head -- that I feel quite affectionate toward it, and it's going to keep travelling with me.