Tristessa

Kerouac is in full form in this "bop prosody" vision of the tragedy of love and the painful banality of loss. For such a short work (less than one hundred pages) he manages to spin an enthralling vision of a fleeting, passionate encounter in a world that has been poisoned. His characters, though only partially aware of it, oscillate between the two extremes of enlightened detachment and base addiction. For fans of Kerouac's more experimental moments, "Tristessa" will provide another satisfying feast.

This was a short little book with some brief periods of truly lovely writing. The story isn't much to write home about and you won't be on the edge of your seat wishing for more. Worth the read, but it will not make it on my personal list of books everyone should read before they die.

Jack Kerouac describes his low-budget meanderings within the slums of the Prostitution and Drug Culture in 1950's Mexico City. His descriptions of the hovels that his "compadres" live in, is quite engrossing... it reminds me somewhat of the activities in the neighborhoods of modern-day Tijuana (short all the pets and chickens and so-forth)... I wouldn't recommend anyone attempt these same "feats" in modern-day Mexico City, as it has become a much more dangerous place for tourists over the last 50 years.The fact that Kerouac is able to travel and live among the bohemian under-culture is one thing, but that he is able to describe it with his running dialog style on a typewriter is quite unique (a style that is something close to what I'd independently come up with at 14 in 1973, while capturing a dialog between a good friend and my sister on my Mom's old manual typewriter).

36,000 feet, en route to CDMX with Jack Kerouac. Never mind the decades that separate us; I'm on my way to make a new old friend.

In Tristessa, Kerouac paints a life of simultaneous nobility and ignobility. He artfully switches the focus of his verbal brush between himself and Tristessa to reveal the dual nature of the God of his understanding. It was worth the time and effort to read it.

A short tale by Kerouac, but quite fulfilling. Whether it is read in a quiet study room, a library - or in a taxi, drunk, on a rainy saturday nite (Jack would be proud!) There are many passages here reflecting his deep love for humanity (and any la gata) as well as searching the pale blue Mexican scenery, streets and bars, knowing something grande should be nearby...

A friend of mine suggested I read it. At first I was thinking that maybe I would not make it past a few pages of Jack's rambling, drunken prose, but it was addictive, like the very drugs his characters used. And while it was a different time and place, I knew his characters, they were people I knew on the streets of Tijuana and Juarez, junkies, prostitutes, pimps. It was sad and funny and sick and made me feel just a little more mad than I already am. I read it in stages, pauses, because I felt like I could be sucked up into his crazy little world and once again I would be on the streets of Juarez and Tijuana and now Mexico city...

Really weird, 2-part book. 1st half is written in flow-of-consciousnesses, non-gramatically-correct, poetical Kerouacian (jacked on morphine). The 2nd half is written in more-standard English.I really enjoyed the book. It's a good trip.