Source of book: I own this
So far, this is my third Kerouac book - previously read were The Dharma Bums and Big Sur. I also read Joyce Johnson’s book about his early life, The Voice is All.
The Subterraneans is, like all of Kerouac’s fiction, mostly autobiographical. He fictionalized his life, with some changes and exaggerations for artistic effect, but they still very much read like non-fiction, and the characters are easily recognizable as their real-life counterparts.
This book is fairly short, and is all about Kerouac’s brief relationship with Alene Lee, an African-American member of the Beats, who at the time was working as a typist for William Burroughs and Allen Ginsberg. She also has an appearance in Big Sur, but under a different name. Here, she is called “Mardou Fox.”
On display throughout the book are some characteristics of Kerouac: his alcoholism, his mental illness, his inability to form healthy relationships, his tendency to objectify women. But also, it is still fascinating just how self-aware his is in his writing. He knows he is all of those things, but feels powerless to change.
One additional fault he acknowledges in this book is that he objectifies Mardou not just as a woman, but as black. He sees her as “exotic,” as in some way an “other,” and he knows he is doing it. But he also isn’t sure how to stop.
Actually, I really get this. Exoticizing minority women is so deeply embedded in our (white) culture that there really are only two options: either acknowledge the implicit bias and try to counter it, or remain blissfully unaware of it. “Colorblindness” is a myth.
The book takes a narrative arc through the relationship, starting with when they met, peaking around the halfway mark with them enjoying a passionate relationship, and then the long slow decline until they break up.
There are some things that definitely struck me about Kerouac’s perspective on the relationship. First, while he acknowledges that both parties had their flaws, he mostly blames himself for the breakup.
They grow apart for a variety of reasons - neither of them was entirely mentally healthy, for one thing. They also have different goals for their future, which I think both of them knew would make the relationship temporary.
The final straw is when he becomes jealous of another of the Beats (Gregory Corso), who he thinks is trying to steal her. After they fight, she does in fact sleep with the other man, which becomes the direct reason for the breakup.
Another thing that struck me was that not only was Kerouac quite frank about sex, he was particularly concerned with making sure his partner orgasmed. For 1958, this was probably somewhat unusual for a male writer. What I recall seeing a lot more in those books that did address sex, was an assumption that the woman climaxes from intercourse alone, and simultaneously with the man. (As the book puts it, “Mardou did not gain orgasm from normal copulation.”)
This is actually not the way sex works for most women, and Kerouac actually notes that. And makes sure his partner is satisfied. That’s admirable - and I am glad that Kerouac actually puts that in the book. More men need to understand that, and up their game.
In general, I enjoy Kerouac’s “stream of consciousness” style of writing. I think it is a lot easier to follow than, say, Ulysses, and has a truly poetic feel. Apparently, in this book, Kerouac was attempting to capture the rhythms of jazz - music which is central to the book and a recurring theme.
I also want to mention a passage where Kerouac and Mardou argue about his devotion to his mother. (Who, to be fair, was largely supporting Kerouac in the years before his books started selling.) Here is Kerouac’s reply to her:
“I really do really love her and love you too and don’t you see how hard I try to spend my time, divide my time between the two of you - over there it’s my writing work, my well-being and when she comes home from work at night, tired, from the store, mind you, I feel very good making her supper, having the supper and a martini ready when she walks in so by 8 o’clock the disses are all cleared, see, and she has more time to look at her television…”
On the one hand, it is touching to see Kerouac doing the Donna Reed thing. Of the Beats, he seems to have been the only male who actually cooked and cleaned. On the other, I can kind of see Mardou’s point - he is still tied to those apron strings a bit.
Later, near the end, when he knows the breakup is inevitable, he writes more about his mother.
You see a vision of the face of the woman who is your mother who loves you so much she has supported you and protected you for years, you a bum, a drunkard - never complained a jot - because she knows that in your present state you can’t go out in the world and make a living and take care of yourself and even find and hold the love of another protecting woman - and all because you are poor Ti Leo - deep in the dark pit of night under the stars of the world you are lost, poor, no one cares, and now you threw away a little woman’s love because you wanted another drink with a rowdy fiend from the other side of your insanity.
That pity party is lit for sure.
Another passage mentions the fetishization of Mardou, and I thought it was an interesting way of putting things. The stream of consciousness technique heightens the point.
This being the last deepest final doubt I wanted about Mardou that she was really a thief of some sort and therefore was out to steal my heart, my white man heart, a Negress sneaking in the world sneaking the holy white man for sacrificial rituals later when they’ll be roasted and roiled…
This leads him to a memory of Tennessee Williams story, and reminds him of being called a slur.
“Man what are you, a fag? you talk just like a fag.”
There is another moment where Mardou gets jealous of the time Kerouac was spending with Burroughs, and insists that “It’s him or me goddamit.” This is a recurring issue for Kerouac in his books. He gets off track, spending all his time with one person, or buried in his writing, and neglects his partners.
One time, when Kerouac and Mardou go to a movie, she refuses to hold his hand walking on the street, for fear she would be considered a prostitute. (Even in San Francisco, where the book was set, or New York City, where the events actually took place.) Kerouac is perceptive here.
I wanted to go into a bar for a wine, she was afraid of all the behatted men ranged at the bar, now I saw her Negro fear of American society she was always talking about but palpably in the streets which never gave me any concern…
Although he wouldn’t have used the word, he realizes his privilege, even as a French Canadian immigrant (who were reviled at the time).
He also touches on a problem with being part of a privileged class: feeling like others are more in tune with life.
As I pass Mexicans I feel that great hepness I’d been having all summer on the street with Mardou my old dream of wanting to be vital, alive like a Negro or an Indian or a Denver Jap or a New York Puerto Rican come true, with her by my side song young, sexy, slender, strange, hip, myself in jeans and casual and both of us as if young…
The last lines are quite good as well.
And I go home having lost her love.
And write this book.
One cannot but think of the risks of dating someone like Kerouac. It is a bit like dating Taylor Swift: you might end up in a song or a book. Although at least Kerouac is more likely to blame himself than give a sick burn to an ex.
My favorite Kerouac so far is still The Dharma Bums, because Gary Snyder is in it, and there is an epic hike. But this one was enjoyable and thoughtful and worth reading.
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