Tag: Kerouac

  • Personal Review: “Jesus’ Son” by Denis Johnson

    Up until a couple of months ago, I hadn’t ever heard of Denis Johnson. (And yes, the rock I live under is very comfortable.) I found out about him from a review of Ted Geltner’s biography of Johnson, Flagrant, Self-Destructive Gestures. From that article, I was intrigued and put Johnson’s Jesus’ Son on my reading list.

    If I had pushed myself, I could have read the book in a day, but spreading it out over three seemed more appropriate. A couple of things jumped out at me, besides the fact that it was a quick read. First, this book of short stories just oozed 90’s literature, which is strange as most of the stories take place in the 70’s, while the stories themselves were written in the 80’s, and only published in 1992. I can’t fully say why it felt so 90’s, but it Gen-X despondent seemed to be lurking in corners. The second idea the book presented to me is that the drunk/addict poet or writer is rather cliché now. Maybe not as drunken muscled as Hemmingway, Kerouac, or Burkowski, but the stories in the volume ran in the same vein. Here, we are presented with pretty much the same first-person character from story to story, who is too poetic to be a regular run of the mill drunk. No, this is the tragic drunk writer whose writing is their only salvation – the thing that keeps them going.

    That’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy the book. No, I was struck at how simple, and effortless everything in the stories felt. It carried such weight but drifted on the air. The destruction of a character’s life never felt so beautiful and fragile. No, I get why Jesus’ Son is placed on best of short story collection lists, year after year. Johnson’s stories and writing style has clearly been influential. I was about half way through “Car Crash While Hitchhiking” when it dawned on me how many flash writers must consider Denis Johnson a primary source, with his books lovingly squirreled away on their shelves.

    The final thought that I had while reading this book was that these stories felt like they were fun to write. Some books can feel laborious – not to read that is – such as writing it took time, work, dedication, perseverance to deliver the story exactly the way the writer wanted to tell it. Jesus’ Son felt like it was a blast to write. Either making it all up, or using real life situations, or maybe combining it all together, the end result was a book that felt like it was just as entertaining to write as it was to read.

    Having said all of this, I must now return to my home under the rock. There, I will toss this book up on the shelf, with all the other collections of short stories that I own and wonder how did I miss out on Denis Johnson when he was alive?

  • Walking the City (Unedited)

    I’m not giving anything away here, as my kid’s birthday isn’t too far away. It’s a known secret in our house, and the kid is expecting something from us. And I want to do something for her, because birthdays should be fun, no matter how old you get – Everyone should get to have at least one day a year where they feel special. But being that she is still a kid, birthdays mean that other children will be involved.

    Today, my task was to complete the acquiring of items for the goodie bags. To accomplish this, I would have to leave Harlem and head down to the Lower East Side and the Village. And I was looking forward to this because I don’t leave my neighborhood as much as I used to.

    I don’t mind the subway ride down to Delancey Street, and popping out on the street, I always feel turned around, even though I have been down there hundreds of times. One of the first rehearsals I had when I moved to New York wasn’t too far from there, and in 2006, I think there was only one condo tower around. I walked over to Economy Candy (The greatest candy store on God’s sugary Earth!) to get the treats for the goodie bags, and that joint is just down the street from the Paul’s Boutique corner.

    Over in the Village I stopped by a local party store to pick up signs, and other stuff to decorate. I was struck by how many closed up store fronts were around there, even though there’s lots of construction happening. It seems like people are willing to spend millions on condos down there, but there won’t be anywhere to go and shop, or hang out.

    All that said, even on a rain and not so cold January overcast day, I still enjoy walking around this City. I am still fascinated by the people, and the sounds I hear, and the way each block can have a different vibe and attitude. At one of my lowest points in my life, when my mother was sick and I knew what was coming, I would walk all over Manhattan, and just be in and around people and the City. There is something comforting for me in being enveloped by this place, and just walking along and experiencing it. It was true for Poe, and Whitman, and even Brando and Kerouac; all walking the streets, seeing what they could see.

  • Short Story Review: “Matthew Danger” by Dylan Smith

    (The short story “Matthew Danger” by Dylan Smith appeared in Rejection Letters on January 16th, 2023.)

    (There is a chance of Spoilers.)

    I’m a little apprehensive when I start reading a story about a character drinking too much over the course of an evening. Usually that author has a deep reverence for Bukowski of Kerouac, and the drunken work the author creates is just a watered-down version of the aforementioned writers. Yet, I was taken in with “Matthew Danger” by Dylan Smith. Maybe it is just a story about a drunken night in, what I assume is, New York, but the structure Smith uses, the form of the prose, and the format that his theme is in, creates a story that is fresh and interesting.

    Here’s an overly simplified summary: The narrator has it pointed out to him, by his new manager at the restaurant that he works out, that his eyes are “All blurry and always so bloodshot.” An observation that the narrator doesn’t agree with, but as it is the narrator’s birthday, he has the evening off which he goes out into the City. First stopping at a museum to view paintings by Cezanne, then drinking many beers. The narrator encounters his friend Danger, who is a musician, and then later, another friend, Matthew. Other things happen, and I don’t want to ruin all of it, so you should read it.

    What I enjoyed most was Smith’s selective use of short sentences and paragraphs, almost like creating a staccato sound/feeling with the flow of the piece. It made the story feel disjointed, and off ever so slightly – that the world of the narrator doesn’t fit cleanly into the larger universe. Also, the use of recurring lines, about his eyes and his night off for his birthday, created the feeling of being inside the mind of someone who is drunk, with their fixation on an idea that they can’t seem to shake. Especially with the birthday line, as baptism and rebirth work their way into the theme of this story, as does the idea of death, which a nearly empty bar is used to exemplify that part of the theme. I was left with one question, which could be me reading too much into this piece; The title of the story is “Matthew Danger” and the narrator meets up with his friends Matthew and Danger, though Matthew is briefly in the piece and Danger is there pretty much the whole time, but I had this sneaking feeling that these two characters are just a manifestation of the narrator’s id, and don’t actually exist. I have nothing to back that up with, just a feeling I had when I read it.

    This story could have gone off the rails in several places and landed in cliché or caricature, but Smith crafted something that captured the mood and feeling of his narrator that was clear and understandable by an excellent use of form and structure. Well done.