esrosedotblog

THE ROAD TO OBLIVION

I don't much care for David Brooks' point of view but, from time to time, he surprises me. In a good way.

Today is such a time.

Sal Paradise at 50

To celebrate the birthday, I am reading On the Road in the original scoll version.

The names there are still of the real people. There is a lot more sex of all kinds. It is pre-edit and great fun to read.

I am taking it easy—bathroom reading.

A nice slow take on a beloved book.

Here is Brooks' main point.

But the real secret of the book was its discharge of youthful energy, the stupid, reckless energy that saves “On the Road” from being a dreadful novel. The delightful, moronic, unreflective fizz appears whenever the characters are happiest, when they are chasing girls or urinating from a swerving flatbed truck while going 70 miles an hour.

Those parts haven’t survived. They run afoul of the new gentility, the rules laid down by the health experts, childcare experts, guidance counselors, safety advisers, admissions officers, virtuecrats and employers to regulate the lives of the young. They seem dangerous, childish and embarrassing in the world of professionalized adolescence and professionalized intellect.

Labels: books, culture, life