Cultural Oddities of the Beat Generation (An Excerpt from "David: 1966")

Cultural Oddities of the Beat Generation Seminar in Green Hall, Yale University at 6:00p.m. on September 4, 1963. Dr. Duke Macey

"Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming. If it’s all the same, I’d like to jump right into this subject because I care to have time for much discussion. As I was able to gather from my quick survey of the room, we have a lot of ‘Old Guard’ and ‘New Guard’ representatives tonight. I’m glad you all came. So without further ado, let’s dig in. I should start this by explaining the meaning of the title of this seminar. At first glance, some have speculated this seminar was going to be a jeremiad on this next generation’s lack of respect, Weber’s Protestant Work Ethic, and so forth. But as I assured my students, this is more of an exploration of the Beat Generation's relationship with the new generation—the ‘New Guard’ as I refer to them—whilst within the reality envisioned by past generations—the ‘Old Guard.’ To put it another way: the Beat Generation appears to have imbedded itself in the New Guard, and seems to carry a significant weight within the New Guard in terms of behavior and ideology, and this seminar explores the oddities of said generation—both in the way the generation behaves, and how the generation is viewed. So I do not believe ‘oddities’ is being used in a pejorative sense as some may have feared… or hoped. Many of you who know me know I study the American ethos and have an affinity for literature, certainly fiction. Novelists, I believe, explore the attitudes and behaviors of culture (more broadly man’s nature). Either past or present, domestic or foreign, as they understand it, the good ones at least, novelists help readers interpret the world around them. And my students can attest that I enjoy introducing fiction in my course work as a tool for understanding not just American culture, but man’s nature—again in a much broader sense. For this seminar, I want to focus mainly on one book in particular: Jack Kerouac’s On the Road: to help us understand the Beat Generation’s cultural oddities. I want to turn our attention to this book as a paragon of the generation for two reasons: One, the book is constantly being referenced by my students and my peers, meaning it seems to have struck a significant chord with the New Guard; and Two, Kerouac’s influence on the Beat Generation, himself being likened to the primogenitor, and ‘king of the Beats.’ Of course there are plenty of other materials—books, writers, movements, so on and so on—that could have been referenced here, and many more are implemented in both my dissertation and ongoing manuscript, but since this seminar is only scheduled for an hour, I chose brevity. So here we go. Upon the book’s release just six years ago, Gilbert Millstein wrote in The New York Times: ‘Just as, more than any other novel of the 20’s, The Sun Also Rises came to be regarded as the testament of the ‘Lost Generation,’ so it seems certain that On the Road will come to be known as that of the ‘Beat Generation.’’ That’s some praise from Millstein. And from what nascent empirical data I have been able to collect, he’s right. On the Road resonates with those in the New Guard. Why is that? What influence can be found in the book? This leads me to my first point of behavior in the Beat Generation. More specifically I am referring to ideology when I speak of Beat behavior. After all, what is behavior if not action of thought? So what does On the Road teach us? What does it stand for? Well… I’ll try to make this as short as possible for the sake of brevity. A quick close reading of Kerouac’s novel shows us a penchant for iconoclasm, a romanticization of autonomy both in the form of anti-authoritarianism and sexual exploration, a rejection of materialism, an epistemological search through the bowels of these United States heavily guided by a mixture of drugs and Eastern religion—an interesting pairing. In short, the book is more about an existential journey in search for a new self after rejecting post-War affluence in the nation. And this seems to reflect the notions of those who lionize the book. People, mainly younger people, are enthralled by the concept of resisting the contemporary trends of our culture. Those who are fond of the Beat Generation do not care for the Joneses, let alone keeping up with them. They reject materialism; they are in favor of promiscuity; and have a more Emersonian approach to politics and religion than anything else. In fact, I think it is safe to assume that members of the Beats and New Guard are more contra mundum than compliant with the Old Guard’s culture. In an aside: one interesting point to consider when reading On the Road is the virtual absence of any father figure. Neither Sal nor Dean has any fatherly influence in their lives, so they have to create their own. They become the Founding Fathers of their own lives—so to speak. But I digress. The ideology of the Beats is apparent in Kerouac’s novel: one of freedom. Freedom from. Freedom to do. And this is where the cultural oddities come in to play. The ideology of the Beat Generation, and that of the New Guard, is quite different from coeval American culture. This brings me to my second point: how this generation is viewed. To say the least, Beats and the New Guard are met with disdain, and in some cases outright hostility, by the outside world. Certainly the reaction from Old Guard critics warrants this claim. Look no further than the rise in ‘beatnik’ stereotypes of this new generation in cartoons and reviews of literature or music, and harsh criticisms witnessed in films like The Beat Generation and The Beatniks. The oddities of the Beats are not welcomed by the Old Guard precisely because their behavior is seen as contra to that of the current American way of life. The iconoclasm and anti-authoritarianism are interpreted as civil anarchism, the sexual indiscrimination is met with accusations of depravity and lacking rectitude, rejection of materialism is the promotion of Red state subversion, and finally: experimentation with drug use and Eastern religion are signs of the coming apocalypse. Quite simply put: the Old Guard does not appreciate the lack of reverence for their beliefs and traditions, their culture, and finds the behavior of the Beat Generation actually very un-American. But is it? Does the Beat Generation actually represent the perceived separation between Old and New Guard, this dichotomy of American and un-American activities? Does this generation even belong to either Guard, or is it some outlier, a signal of a coming shift in paradigms—from Old to New? Is this the link between evolutionary cultural trends? Let’s examine the novel a little further.  Once more for the sake of time, I will only be examining two parts of the novel: the sexual use of the female characters, and Jack Kerouac himself. I realize examining the author in a review of the novel maybe unfair, but in this context I think we can make an exception. After all, there is no novel without of the author. Ladies first. Reading this novel the sexual use of women is rather shocking. I use the term ‘use’ quite strategically here. The Old Guard is repulsed because they read two men traveling the country having pre-marital and extra-marital affairs with women almost at will. This ‘looseness’ disgusts them. Of course the New Guard is in jubilee over this celebration of sexuality. They read the passages as watermarks in revolts against (what they see as) a Victorian approach to sex. Upon a closer reading, though, I believe both views miss a shocking fact. And it is precisely the manner in which both men, especially Dean, use these women. There is also, of course, a richness of bravado and male companionship within the text. Men and women are represented in vastly different ways, and the behavior is much more in line with traditional Old Guard ideology than anything else. Look at how the women are portrayed or used. Marylou, Dean’s first ex-wife, is quote-unquote 'dumb.' Camille, Dean’s second, is obedient and does as she’s told. Rita and Lucille are both sexual conquests for Sal. The use of sex in the novel is not as much about freeing the persons from the cages of common day Victorianism, but a cruder form of it. That is to say women are being portrayed to behave in a certain subservient manner to that of men. And this is in direct conflict with what many of the New Guard believes. This brings me to my second observation about On the Road and more specifically the author. Many critics, peers, friends, students have noted, even lauded, the anti-materialistic notions of this novel, Mr. Kerouac, and the Beat Generation as a whole. If one takes a step back and observes the very macro-level event happening, then one can witness a great irony. What I mean is: Jack Kerouac has written his magnum opus about freedom from materialism and constraints of our culture, but how are we receiving this information? We all bought his book. We all participated in this act of materialism, and Kerouac is the direct benefactor of it! What irony. And to return to the novel very quickly, Sal seems so pleased in his challenging of social affluence. And that’s great. But it’s very easy to make claims against materialism when you are being propped up by a wealthy sponsor. This is not to suggest condemnation cannot come from within, but it is to point out that if one is promoting an alternative way of life, precisely contra to affluent living, then to make such claims and live in such a way whilst being simultaneously propped up by the very affluence one deposes is greatly hypocritical and deserving of critique. Which leads me to my final point about Kerouac: this is a man who shows clear signs of what I will call ‘traditionalism.’ That is: a classical understanding of how society functions based off actions and ideologies of previous generations. I do not think Kerouac belongs in the New Guard. He might very well be better placed in the Old. However, his behavior implores a much more erratic Old Guard understanding of society today. Therefore he is an outlier, and so too are the Beats. They exist on the outskirts of our nation’s culture. Beyond the realms of both New and Old Guards their behaviors often times are a confluence of many different portions of combatting cultures within the body and time of the nation—especially a state like the United States. This explains the oddities of the Beat Generation—their actions and the way they are perceived. They behave free of the actions of both Guards. With that being said, I believe we cannot outright condemn or celebrate On the Road. We must accept it for what it is: something ‘other’ that invokes the very basic, if not crude, aspects of United States ideology. For all its merits, this is also a book rich with obdurate, anti-intellectual, self-centeredness, and lacking the substance to justify many of the actions revealed. The Old Guard is right in its criticism, but they are also too myopic to be aware of their own flaws and likeness to the Beats. Just as the New Guard is too quick to champion the book for its promotion of the self over the forces of materialism and avarice, and ignores the blatantly seedier side, the materialism, hedonism, and ethically questionable behavior that the New Guard does not promote—at least ideally. What I believe On the Road, Kerouac, and the Beat Generation represent is the most basic behavior of man’s nature. A behavior that has lay dormant in the American ethos until recently being revived thanks to this post-War affluence. Thank you.” 

Trundling an Empty Barrow Up the Lane: Nabokov’s Pale Fire: Part 2

The focus now shifts to the moral of Nabokov’s Pale Fire: a profound attempt of capturing humanity’s perturbation with mortality and the relationship Art (specifically literature) plays.  Many literary critics have dissected and attempted precise explication of the novel.[1]  Among them, Bryan Boyd is often the most quoted, read critic of Nabokov’s work and life—and specifically his novel Pale Fire.[2]  In his 1997 essay, “Shade and Shape of Pale Fire”, Boyd re-evaluates his previous “Shadean” stance—the notion that the entire Pale Fire (i.e. Foreword, Poem, Commentary, Index) was all written by John Shade and not portions by Charles Kinbote—and adopts a more balanced view of who wrote what, as well as the potential moral.[3]  In providing analysis of Pale Fire some objections to Boyd’s conclusions will be raised.  For the most part, though, Boyd’s observations and conclusions are agreeable.[4]

            Mirrors.  One prevalent motif throughout the novel is the imagery of mirrors.  Subtle at first, one slowly begins to realize the mastery of Nabokov’s work at play.  Mirrors, of course, reflect an image in reverse.  Nabokov applied this to his novel in several ways.  Be it in the reversing of words or names (Hazel Shade’s “mirror words” and twisting T.S. Eliot as “toilest” and Jakob Gradus—Shade’s eventual assassin—becomes Sudarg of Bokay the “mirror genius”), or places (Kinbote’s wild kingdom of Zembla juxtaposed with Shade’s passive New Wye), or people (Shade and Kinbote are very much opposites).[5]  Staying within the idea of reflections, the reader must take one step further and allow for self-reflection.  Fictional literature is a reflection of one’s reality (as both the author intended and the reader sees it).  Upon examining fiction, the reader should reflect and consider the possible relationship literature has with the world in which he or she exists.  Through examining the mirror world, one gains a better understanding of one’s own.  This fact plays a crucial role in Pale Fire.[6]

            Death.   Throughout the novel the reader is presented with death.  Either in Kinbote’s Foreword (the recollection of Shade’s death, or hinting his own potential suicide), in Shade’s magnum opus (where the imagery of death permeates the poem—especially with Hazel Shade), or in Kinbote’s Commentary (mainly in the narrative of Gradus’s westward journey), the idea of death is never too far from the reader’s mind.  The very first sentence of Pale Fire introduces Shade’s death “…(born July 5, 1898, died July 21, 1959)…”.[7]  In the poem, the fist line reads: “I was the shadow of the waxwing slain” another introduction to death—also another example of Nabokov’s double: Shade is the shadow of the waxwing slain.[8]  The remembrance of Hazel Shade in the poem and Kinbote’s notes reflect thoughts of the afterlife.[9]  Nabokov consistently relays this message of death.  Here the moral begins to show itself.  The reader cannot escape death.  Even as Kinbote flees from the majestic Zembla to the bucolic New Wye, he cannot.  He brings death with him.[10]  Gradus is the personification of death.  And even in the suburban Arcadia, death is there too.  This is exactly what Shade tries to communicate to Kinbote in his poem, but not to fear death.  Boyd suggests that the first line of the poem should be read as the last, suggesting life after death.[11]  Though the first line may double as the last, it might not necessarily point towards afterlife.  What could just as easily be true about the cyclicality of life is that death plays a part, and that the two are not mutually exclusive, so one should embrace both in toto.  Embracing mortality is embracing one’s humanity.

            Whatever the interpretations might be, and Nabokov left enough room for many, what is unequivocal is Nabokov’s success at revealing humanity’s struggle with their least favorite attribute: impermanence: and where Art (in this case literature) goes along in the endless endeavor.  That is Pale Fire’s greatness.

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[1] For further reading consideration: Will Norman, Duncan White, Transitional Nabokov, (London, Peter Lang Publishing: 2009); Geoffrey W. Erwin, Pale Fire: A Novel of Mirrors: Reflections and Resemblances—A Study, (Washington DC, Georgetown University Press: 1990); L.S. Dembo, Nabokov: The Man and His Work, (Madison, Wisconsin University Press: 1967); Paul Duncan Morris, Vladimir Nabokov: Poetry and the Lyric Voice, (Toronto, University of Toronto Press: 2010); Bryan Boyd, Vladimir Nabokov: The American Years, (Princeton, Princeton University Press: 1993).

[2] In his 2001 publishing of Nabokov’s Pale Fire: The Magic of Artistic Discovery, Boyd recants his previous Shadean analysis in The American Years (1993) and provides a more accurate analysis of Nabokov’s novel.  The bulk of Nabokov’s Pale Fire centers around the ideas promoted in his essay “Shade and Shape in Pale Fire” (1997), which most of this criticism will be focused.

[3] For the entire essay: http://www.libraries.psu.edu/nabokov/boydpf1.htm

[4] Boyd makes very valid points.  By no means is his analysis to be disregarded.  However, neither are they to be taken without incredulity.  In this phase of critical analysis, the boundaries do not always have to be agreed upon.

[5] Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire, (New York, Vintage: 1989), 80, 193, 314

[6] Nabokov enjoyed playing with the idea of doubles, and often used the idea of “mirrors” in his novels—especially later on in his career.  For further reading: Despair, Lolita, Ada or Ador, Look at the Harlequins!

[7] Nabokov, 11.

[8] Ibid. 33.; Boyd makes this argument in his essay “Shade and Shape,” 6.

[9] Boyd makes an interesting point in his essay (17) that Nabokov hints at supernaturalism in relation to Hazel Shade’s encounter with the phantom or phantasm that predicts the death of her father (188).  Perhaps, but this critic is dubious.

[10] An interesting connection can be made between Kinbote’s escape from Europe to the New World in search of a better life—mainly void from death—and Pastoralism.  What is Pastoralism?  Without losing too much focus: in the 1950s and 60s, two literary scholars, and progenitors of the American Studies field, Henry Nash Smith (with his book Virgin Land) and Leo Marx (The Machine in the Garden) studied apparent themes within literature concerning the New World (and eventually the United States) as an untamed land with infinite possibilities.   These themes would form the notion of Pastoralism (and would eventually be studied and taught within the “Myth and Symbol” school of study for the nascent American Studies).  To be succinct: Pastoralism is linked to escapism, and eventually leads back to humanity’s struggle with mortality.  Pastoralism plays a significant role in Americanism. 

[11] Boyd, 26.

Trundling an Empty Barrow Up the Lane: Nabokov’s Pale Fire: Part 1

Vladimir Nabokov’s Pale Fire is one of the great novels of the post-War era—of the English-language.[1]  Such a superlative requires some vindication.  Allow me.  What constitutes a great novel?  Well, one could have long, laborious dialectical discussions on such a question only to end up with what they had from the beginning: nothing.  Subjectivity is a merciless paradox.  All and none are correct.  And when one criticizes literature, music, film, or the arts etc. etc., the need for order becomes an imperative.[2]  So in order to evaluate, one must first create some boundaries—ultimately understanding said boundaries are illusory, but still necessary.  Once perimeters are agreed justifiable, establishment follows.  When one individual sets the borders alone, he or she freely accepts them and thus plays within his or her own rules—free to change them whenever it behooves the individual.  This becomes inadequate when applying critical analyses on a macro-level.  Therefore when dealing with a broader scale, the communal element must apply.  At this point, the critic looks at the other great literary solons of both past and present.  Once he or she can reach an agreement with the community (in this case: an agreement on the attributes of a “Great” novel), the boundaries can be established.[3]    Looking back, when one thinks of some of the capital G “Greats” (i.e. the “Greatest Novels of the English-Language in Such-And-Such-An-Epoch”) what comes to mind?[4]  According to the Modern Library (a subsidiary of Random House publishing), the best novel of the twentieth century was James Joyce’s Ulysses.[5]  Larry McCaffery (well-known literary critic and former professor of post-modern literature) wrote in the American Book Review in 1999, that Pale Fire was the greatest 20^th Century novel, stating: “[Pale Fire is the] most audaciously conceived novel of the century-and the most perfectly executed-this is also the book whose existence could have been the most difficult to anticipate in the year 1900.”[6]  Indeed.  Others claim Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, de Cervantes’ Don Quixote, even Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged as the jötnar of their literary realm.  Irrespective of what novel sits atop the conjectural lists, one can begin to notice broad, overarching similarities between the novels.  These similarities become the foundations for judging a novel as a Great.  Most of the Greats contain some acute observation of the “human condition” or the world humanity inhabits and the symbiotic relationship between both.[7]  The Greats often succeed in revealing realities within the contexts of fantasy. And at times a novel is considered a masterpiece because it per se revolutionizes the literary world—like Joyce’s Ulysses.[8]  All the while entertaining the reader.[9]  The Greats do all of these in some capacity with much gravitas, a balance of quality and quantity, pious yet playful.  Pale Fire is one of these novels.  It addresses humanity’s struggle with mortality, and the relationship Art plays in the struggle.  Whilst simultaneously exploring the form and structure of fictional writing—creating a novel novel. Like Ulysses, it is a novel for literature, and like Moby Dick, it is as much for the masses.  While literary critics, scholars, or those with a penchant for such, will lionize the novel for its many allusions to other bodies of work or the unique structure and impact on the post-modern literary world; the casual reader (with enough patience and keen eye) will appreciate the underlying moral, and have fun navigating the labyrinth Nabokov created.

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[1] Of course, this entire review is the personal opinion of one individual.  Subjectivity is not irrevocable.

[2] Note: Criticism is not meant pejoratively here, rather a formal intellectual judgment, or observation. 

[3] This does not always come to fruition—these things seldom do.  Often times a loose nucleus is created in which dissenting opinions form the outer nebulous, and the conforming ones draw closer to one point.  Never a true establishment, but when building a house of cards one must accept instability.

[4] Answering this question will help answer the initial one.

[5] Modern Library, “100 Best Novels: The Board’s List,” Random House, Inc., http://www.modernlibrary.com/top-100/100-best-novels/ (accessed August 5, 2011).  Many readers are of the opinion James Joyce’s Ulysses ranks high above the rest.  Indeed a solid paragon, but often an overused standard that, ironically, diminishes the greatness of the novel.

[6] Larry McCaffery, “The 20th Century's Greatest Hits: 100 English Language Books of Fiction,” American Book Review 20, vol. 6 (1999).  McCaffery placed Joyce’s Ulysses in second, Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow in third, and Ellison’s Invisible Man and DeLillo’s Underworld in the top twenty—even including Bret Easton Ellis’ American Psycho on the list.  A man after this critic’s own heart.  For the entire list: http://www.spinelessbooks.com/mccaffery/100/index.html

[7] “Human condition” consumes every aspect of being “human” in multiple conditions (i.e. philosophy, psychology, sociology, biology, anthropology, theology, cultural studies, economics, etc. etc.).

[8] Debate still carries on in certain circles about how much impact Ulysses had on the literary world, but little doubt can be had for what the novel meant for the Modernist movement.

[9] Or, at least, enough of them.