I'm not finished. I only read through page 99, where The Haunted Life ends. But I wanted to get some thoughts out while they were still fresh in my mind.
The Haunted Life (pgs. 1-99)
What is it about Jack Kerouac that makes me feel so untamed? So primitive? Whenever I pick up a book of his, I want to free myself from everything and just go somewhere with no real plan and no real intention of doing anything except living. It doesn't even matter if the story is really about that concept; Kerouac has a way of writing that lights this fire inside of you to want to forget about most of your responsibilities and enjoy life for what it's worth.
I understand he has a lot of critics. People hold it over his head that he wrote a lot of his better sellers for money. The guy was an alcoholic and, generally, ideas that one would not necessarily follow through with sound much more attractive after a few pints and a couple of shots. But his lackadaisical, half-hearted following of Buddhism, the parts about seeing things as they are, and enjoying the present, all come through in his writing. It doesn't have to be The Dharma Bums or On The Road to find the freeing beauty in the way he writes. And because of that, who cares if he wrote some stuff for money? Given the opportunity, who wouldn't?
The Haunted Life wasn't necessarily about travel, although, as always, Kerouac's characters were chomping at the bit to do things off the cusp. The way that they just do, without intention, without plan, is such an attractive idea to me and I fall in love with his books almost every time. Maybe I'm living vicariously through them. Or maybe they jog memories of my childhood and how I picture the past in my head, all summer nights and baseball games on the radio and running around in the woods with my friends. Kerouac has a knack to rejuvenate those kinds of feelings in someone, and it's such a rush of freedom, a gust of wind that takes me away from the stupid problems of being an adult and brings me back to my own younger years.
None of this probably makes any sense. This review isn't even about The Haunted Life at all, more so than it is about it's author. And, really, what am I talking about, being 33 years old and "adult problems" as if my life is inherently tougher than it was when I was growing up; It's all relative. If I really wanted to respect Kerouac's works and messages, his parallels with Buddhism, I wouldn't even need to find solace away from the present once and a while. I should be mindful of what life is giving me currently. And, to an extent, I am. But, there is nothing wrong with enjoying memories of the past. He writes the last sentence:
"With the darkness, and with the smell and feel of it, would come the old sounds of the suburban American summer's night- the tinkle of soft drinks, the squeaking of hammocks, the screened-in voices on dark porches, the radio's staccato enthusiasm, a dog barking, a boy's special nighttime cry, and the cool swishing song of the trees: a music sweeter than anything else in the world, a music that can be seen- profusely green, leaf on leaf atremble- and a music that can be smelled, clover fresh, somehow sharp, and supremely rich."
The Haunted Life revolves around family life and also the lonesomeness that all of us have a little bit of inside. It regards the pull and tug of personal choices, the devil and the angel sitting on their respective shoulders. It involves current affairs, it is a subjectively minor political statement, and it invokes a simplicity to our lives, regardless of how crazy things might be going on around us. Kerouac slows the world down when we need it slowed down the most. His simple style of writing and his characters are all people we wish we knew or know through someone in our own lives. It's simple. Refreshing. Nostalgic.