Джек Керуак (Jack Kerouac)Jack Kerouac
THE DHARMA BUMS
PENGUIN BOOKS
THE DHARMA BUMS
Jack Kerouac was born in Lowell, Massachusetts, in 1922, the youngest of three children in a Franco-American family. He attended local Catholic and public schools and won a football scholarship to Columbia University in New York City, where he first met Neal Cassady, Alien Ginsberg, and William S. Burroughs. He quit school in his sophomore year after a dispute with his football coach and joined the Merchant Marine, beginning the restless wanderings that were to continue for the greater part of his life. His first novel, The Town and the City, appeared in 1950, but it was On the Road, first published in 1957 and memorializing his adventures with Neal Cassady, that epitomized to the world what became known as "the Beat generation" and made Kerouac one of the most controversial and best-known writers of his time. Publication of his many other books followed, among them The Dharma Bums, The Subterraneans, and Big Sur. Kerouac considered them all to be part of The Duluoz Legend. "In my old age," he wrote, "I intend to collect all my work and reinsert my pantheon of uniform names, leave the long shelf full of books there, and die happy." He died in St. Petersburg, Florida, in 1969, at the age of forty-seven.
By Jack Kerouac
THE TOWN AND THE CITY
THE SCRIPTURE OF THE GOLDEN ETERNITY
SOME OF THE DHARMA
OLD ANGEL MIDNIGHT
GOOD BLONDE AND OTHERS
PULL MY DAISY
TRIP TRAP
PIC
THE PORTABLE JACK KEROUAC
SELECTED LETTERS: 1940-1956
POETRY
MEXICO CITY BLUES
SCATTERED POEMS
POMES ALL SIZES
HEAVEN AND OTHER POEMS
BOOK OF BLUES
THE DULUOZ LEGEND
VISIONS OF GERARD DOCTOR SAX MAGGIE CASSIDY VANITY OF DULUOZ ON THE ROAD VISIONS OF CODY THE SUBTERRANEANS TRISTESSA
LONESOME TRAVELLER DESOLATION ANGELS THE DHARMA BUMS
BOOK OF DREAMS
BIG SUR SATORI IN PARIS
THE DHARMA BUMS
Dedicated to Han Shan
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
Dedicated to Han Shan
1
Hopping a freight out of Los Angeles at high noon one day in late September 1955 I got on a gondola and lay down with my duffel bag under my head and my knees crossed and contemplated the clouds as we rolled north to Santa Barbara. It was a local and I intended to sleep on the beach at Santa Barbara that night and catch either another local to San Luis Obispo the next morning or the firstclass freight all the way to San Francisco at seven p.m. Somewhere near Camarillo where Charlie Parker'd been mad and relaxed back to normal health, a thin old little bum climbed into my