{"id":48458,"date":"2014-08-29T11:55:54","date_gmt":"2014-08-29T16:25:54","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.panfletonegro.com\/v\/?p=48458"},"modified":"2014-08-29T11:55:54","modified_gmt":"2014-08-29T16:25:54","slug":"road-jack-kerouac","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.panfletonegro.com\/v\/2014\/08\/29\/road-jack-kerouac\/","title":{"rendered":"\u00abOn the Road\u00bb – Jack Kerouac"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"road1\"<\/a>
\n\u00abI woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was-I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn’t scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost. I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future, and maybe that’s why it happened right there and then, that strange red afternoon.\u00bb<\/em><\/p>\n

No es dif\u00edcil entender por qu\u00e9 \u00abOn the Road\u00bb tuvo un enorme impacto cultural dando identidad a una generaci\u00f3n para convertirse en una de las novelas m\u00e1s importantes del siglo XX. Es una reacci\u00f3n a la modernidad y sus sistemas. Su esencia es el anhelo de libertad, la rebeli\u00f3n frente a las convenciones sociales y los c\u00f3digos morales, al plan de vida dise\u00f1ado por el mercado, ese que ejerce una ortopedia social para formar trabajadores productivos y consumistas. Con roles y posiciones definidas de acuerdo a categor\u00edas y estilos de vida predeterminados. Es una negaci\u00f3n del prop\u00f3sito, de cumplir con las expectativas haciendo aquello que la sociedad espera de nosotros. <\/p>\n

En este sentido, \u00abOn the Road\u00bb es un no al sistema. Pero en la b\u00fasqueda de Dean y Sal hay una desesperada afirmaci\u00f3n de la vida, del \u00e9xtasis que se funde con el mundo, de la pasi\u00f3n por el instante y la m\u00fasica y la gente, con sus historias y particularidades. Hay que vivirlo todo, disfrutarlo todo, absorberlo todo. <\/p>\n

El proyecto de Dean es demencial y ca\u00f3tico, una persecuci\u00f3n de \u00abalgo\u00bb desbordante que guarda el secreto de la existencia. Se puede hablar de eso, pero nunca definirlo o explicarlo, no hay tiempo. El \u00fanico camino es entregarse y arder en el fuego originario de la vida, para siempre.<\/p>\n

\u00abBut then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes \u00abAwww!\u00bb\u00bb<\/em><\/p>\n

Pero Sal descubre algo distinto, tras su profunda confusi\u00f3n comienzan a anunciarse los vestigios de algo parecido a un sentido, a un descanso que se encuentra en el amor y la amistad. Una vida que merece la pena de ser vivida.<\/p>\n

El final del camino ense\u00f1a que la despedida es inevitable, Dean est\u00e1 destinado a la derrota po\u00e9tica que sufren los hombres rotos. Como el espectro de lo que alguna vez fue, se pierde en el laberinto de su propio vac\u00edo, agotado y sin descanso. La infinita soledad de Dean es la trampa de una epifan\u00eda que nunca lleg\u00f3. Cuando todo hab\u00eda sido dicho no qued\u00f3 nada, detr\u00e1s de la pose no hab\u00eda nada, solo las sombras del pasado, las de un padre inalcanzable y aquello que pudo haber sido. <\/p>\n

En el ardor de la rebeli\u00f3n la mente encuentra nuevas maneras de ser superficial. En la mueca de Dean, que era la de una generaci\u00f3n, hab\u00eda tanta fatuidad como locura. Esa que aprende palabras sofisticadas y memoriza pasajes de Nietzsche y Schopenhauer para citarlos fuera de contexto, una excentricidad que siempre depende del favor ajeno, una obsesi\u00f3n pulsante que persigue la libertad pero no sabe qu\u00e9 hacer con ella.<\/p>\n

Hay tantas cuestiones decisivas sobre la esencia de Dean que Sal, o m\u00e1s bien Kerouac, nunca responde. Mientras lo observa alejarse con amargura, \u00abOn the Road\u00bb termina con la misma sensaci\u00f3n de p\u00e9rdida irresoluta. Es inevitable preguntar por qu\u00e9.<\/p>\n

\u00abDean took out other pictures. I realized these were all the snapshots which our children would look at someday with wonder, thinking their parents had lived smooth, well-ordered, stabilized-within-the-photo lives and got up in the morning to walk proudly on the sidewalks of life, never dreaming the raggedy madness and riot of our actual lives, our actual night, the hell of it, the senseless nightmare road. All of it inside endless and beginningless emptiness. Pitiful forms of ignorance. \u00abGood-by, good-by.\u00bb<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00abI woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was-I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1760,"featured_media":48461,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[2693],"tags":[67,68],"class_list":{"0":"post-48458","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-narrativa","8":"tag-critica","9":"tag-literatura"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.panfletonegro.com\/v\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/road1.jpg?fit=250%2C387&ssl=1","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pfpCD-cBA","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.panfletonegro.com\/v\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/48458","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.panfletonegro.com\/v\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.panfletonegro.com\/v\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.panfletonegro.com\/v\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1760"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.panfletonegro.com\/v\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=48458"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.panfletonegro.com\/v\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/48458\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.panfletonegro.com\/v\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/48461"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.panfletonegro.com\/v\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=48458"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.panfletonegro.com\/v\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=48458"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.panfletonegro.com\/v\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=48458"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}