"With the coming of Dean Moriarty began the part of my life you could call my life on the road." This is one of the first sentences in Jack Kerouac's "On the Road". I started reading it shortly after coming back from Vietnam and, disappointingly enough, did not enjoy it as much as I thought I would. I decided to give it a second try a couple of days ago and, this time, I got totally into it.
I was fascinated by the fact that Sal Paradise was only interested in mad people, "the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time"; I was impressed when I read that he wanted to see everything, meet everybody, find out what everyone was doing and craving; I related to him when he mentioned that, during one of his trips, he had a book but "preferred reading the American landscape" instead; most of all, I enjoyed finding out how restlessness and dissatisfaction can take you in the most amazing directions.
I travelled back and forth across the US laying in my guesthouse on Khao San Road - a road almost as maniac as Dean. It was on Khao San Road that I felt the "beat" and came to the conclusion that the book's true hero is actually Dean Moriarty for all his shortcomings were innocent. It was on Khao San Road that I wished for myself what Sal Paradise wished for Mississipi Gene:
"I hope you get where you're going, and be happy when you do."
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