the a.r.w. recommends: The Beat Edition
Inspired by my recent viewing of “The Source,” I present The Beat Edition: Beat Books. Enjoy. Or should I say, Dig it (and I don’t mean Digg it).
Selected Poems 1947-1995 – Allen Ginsberg
The first book of Ginsberg’s poetry that I ever bought. It sat by my bedside for years. Its pages have been thumbed and turned in endless repetition. Selected Poems was published later in his career as a kind of anthology. It covers a vast period of time and seems to be the most comprehensive collection of his poetry. I have loved “Sunflower Sutra,” the infamous “Howl,” “America,” “Mind Breaths,” and “A Supermarket in California.” Ginsberg was significantly influenced by Walt Whitman, T.S. Eliot, and William Blake, among many others. He was the first “Beat” I discovered and remains a favorite.
Memoirs of a Beatnik — Diane DiPrima
She was the Chick-Beat. She is the Chick-Beat. Her works are not as widely acknowledged as some of the other Beat writers, but she has written powerful descriptions of her time with “the gang.” She began
writing as a child, publishing her first book of poetry (with Totem Press: Leroi Jones aka Amiri Baraka’s short-lived publishing company), This Kind of Bird Flies Backward, in her late teenage years. Memoirs of a Beatnik is a novel, but it is based on the Beat days: memories of getting high with Ginsberg, Kerouac, Burroughs; casual sex; all writing; all reading; all day-dreaming. I met her at a Book Festival years ago. She was a small, aged, gentle woman with a commanding presence.
The Dharma Bums — Jack Kerouac
Everyone knows of On the Road. The Dharma Bums is, in my opinion, far superior. Kerouac was one of those writers who carried a notebook with him everywhere. Nonetheless, he attempted to be
anything but a writer: “He was a sports reporter for The Lowell Sun; a temporary worker in construction and food service; a United States Merchant Marine and he joined the United States Navy twice.” His first book, The Town and the City (originally published in 1950 under the pseydonym “John Kerouac”), went nowhere. On the Road was his second book and, clearly, the one that put him on the map. The Dharma Bums was written later in his short career. By then, he had become a Buddhist, in one way or another. The Dharma Bums was presented as a sequel of sorts: On the Road chronicled his cross-country drive with Neal Cassady, The Dharma Bums chronicled his experience with Buddhism, Gary Snyder and other Bay-Area Beat poets. I have always found this novel to be more engaging, and better written, than his earlier work.
Turtle Island – Gary Snyder
Some argue that Snyder is not a Beat poet. In my opinion, anyone who frequented that scene, and wrote, is Beat. His best-known book of poetry, Turtle Island, was awarded the Pulitzer Prize.
The title references a Native American term for North America. While studying Asian Culture at UC Berkeley, Snyder was introduced to Ginsberg. The two connected easily — Snyder quickly melted into the crowd of writers. In fact, he was the inspiration for The Dharma Bums‘ main character Japhy Ryder (just like Neal Cassady was the inspiration for Dean Moriarty — the main character in On the Road). He has been known for his environmental activism and Buddhism.
much-deserved side note, I would like to mention that I laughed heartily while mocking this show before I finally gave in to watching it. It is, as many claim, genius, whether you’d like to admit it or not. “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” is more than just a story of a badass, blonde, SoCal chick who uses the word “like” in every sentence. The series is thought-provoking, smart and hilarious.
“tattoos based on books, poems, lyrics, and many other things.” It appears that many tattoo fans like Kurt Vonnegut, The Little Prince, E.E. Cummings and Walt Whitman. This site is literally tattoo inspiration for the literary.
published books. the website states: Fray is the web’s original storytelling magazine, telling true stories online and off since 1996. the first quarterly was titled
Death Cab’s most memorable songs contain snapshots from its walls: Gibbard has sung about an incriminating kiss in a photo booth, discovering forgotten pictures of an ex in his glove compartment, and an especially bleak Kodak moment from a doomed marriage. On “Cath . . . ,” from the band’s new Narrow Stairs, he finds a girl “in a hand-me-down wedding dress,” and the details feel like knife twists: “As the flashbulbs burst, she holds a smile/Like someone would hold a crying child.” That sort of heartbreak defines Narrow Stairs. But where Death Cab’s past records made it easy to empathize with Gibbard’s narrators, the group’s second major-label release zeros in on characters who are often more creepy than cuddly. The result is a dark, strangely compelling record that trades the group’s bright melancholy for something nearer to despair.
“quarterlife crisis.” the rumors are true, dear reader, it exists.















