Its impact (and best-seller possibilities) lie elsewhere, however, for here Kerouac spills the beans about the sex life, psychological hang-ups, and publicity maneuverings of himself, Ginsberg, Corso, Burroughs and Peter Orlovsky. Incredible the things I saw"), any number of atmospheric underlinings (".it's a jazz-joint and beat generation madtrick"), and one frenetic, funny, free-associational scene after another. There are Heideggerian sub-titles (Desolation in Solitude, Desolation in the World), lots of vaudeville lyricism ("I'm gonna take it all in. It's a long prose-poem in the form of a memoir-novel, in which the author (calling himself, as he's done elsewhere, Jack Duluoz) explores three phases of his life: the Zen-seeker bit (camping out on mountain tops, awaiting the joyful-sorrowful illumination) then the Frisco-New York prelude to fame finally the after-effects of being immortalized by the Luce publications and further dizzy-dim wanderings through North Africa, Europe and America. Kerouac's Desolation Angels may be dealt with quickly.
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