AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL NOVEL PA (Revived Modern Classic)

It is unfortunate that this fantastic narrative has been so neglected since Rexroth's death. I have considered this book to be one of the masterpieces of American literature ever since I first read it as a teenager, required reading in for every American Studies major at every liberal arts college and university in the USA. I hope that one day in the next decade or so, my own children will read it with as much enthusiasm as I did. In every respect, it is stylistically a quite original, completely American, work: it is neither a novel nor an autobiography but inhabits a middle ground between the two; it was composed by speaking into a tape recorder rather than written; it is a perfectly crafted ku:nstlerroman ("If this story has a plot or a theme it si the tale of aboy's effort to select and put in order the tools with which he would live his adulthood") and also a rambling yarn of the kind that seems to spin off subnarratives and stories within stories, and digressions in all directions (Rexroth isn't even born until Chapter 2, for example, and as originally published the narrative only reaches his 22 year); and finally, it is an amazing contrarian, counter-mythical depiction of a United States of America that Rexroth grew up in, as it was 100 years ago, a country that few people in our day and age realize ever existed (or as Rexroth in his forward puts it "to many people it may seem a most atypical childhood and youth. I do not think it is, or if it is, it is at least characteristic of one kind of American life."). From a geneological perspective (in the postmodern, French sense) this book is a snapshot of the pre-history of the ethical experience of life in the 20th/21st century. The postlude is absolutely brilliant and should be read, I think, before the book itself, to understand what it is you are about to read and how to put it in context.The one drawback to this book is that it is edited posthumously by Linda Hamalian, a scholar who has demonstrated her own dissapproval for Rexroth as a person in her biography of Rexroth. I am uneasy reading a book that has been edited by someone who, in her own introduction, makes it clear that she is extremely skeptical of most of what Rexroth says, that the work is a specimen of the "ebb and flow of his imagination". For Hamalian, the issue - what makes this book relevant - is the fact-fiction question (which to me is precisely the most irrelevant question this book raises). For all I care, Rexroth could have made every word up, and, in a sense, it would still be all true in a sense, as true as Upton Sinclair's The Jungle (just to cite another book about life in Chicago in the early years of the last century). It is sad that Rexroth's primary posthumous biographical champion is someone who is so unwilling to champion his text for what it is - a boundary-bending masterpiece - and is so focused on narrow questions of conforming to genre and sticking to verifiable fact.

Don't be swayed by one of the reviews stating that this is a masterpiece of American literature. It was not written as a novel; indeed, it wasn't written at all but was spoken into a tape recorder and transcribed. It reminded me of having to listen to an ancient relative going on and on about how wonderful it was in the good old days. He goes into every detail of his childhood with every relative being the best or the boldest of the most famous in that particular nowhere town in the midwest. I tried hard to find something of interest, something to hold my attention but couldn't and finally gave up. It is not literature. It is more of an oral history but very one sided. Later in the book when he knew a lot of interesting writers and artists it is even more disappointing in the way he dismisses major figures such as Henry Miller or Jack Kerouac in a word or two.

Kenneth Rexroth was a huge figure in those years. His translations of Chinese poetry as well as his own poetry and important contributions to the lexicon. Kenneth's legacy seems to be slipping out of sight now. This is a delightful tale I remember reading in growing up in SF in the 60's. Rexroth was the King of the Beats- the old man- wise and brilliant. Read it. A terrific book.

Kenneth Rexroth, An Autobiographical NovelKenneth Rexroth (1905-82) was dubbed the `Father of the Beats' and is associated with Ginsberg and other radical American writers in an Age of Protest. This book belongs in the archives rather than the `must read' section of the library. It contains a good deal of rant and expresses contempt for academic institutions. It is a reminder of the way things were in the Depression by a spokesman for the underdog.Rexroth is celebrated today, if at all, for his painting and poetry. Certainly, on the evidence of this book, he is no novelist. This `autobiographical novel' is a spontaneous outpouring from one who knows the life of the streets, especially the less salubrious quarters of LA and Chicago. `I have never lost my appetite for this lowest of low life,' he declares, `and to this day I greatly prefer hustlers and grifters to bohemian intellectuals.' Later he fulminates against `intellectual perverts.' Rexroth's highest praise goes to the down-trodden and those who know life in the gutter, especially those who have `done time,' such as condemned Sacco and Vanzetti, victims of injustice and men `of true saintliness.'The tone throughout is angry and aggressive. Unlike that other champion of the poor, George Orwell, Rexroth is no stylist. He is slangy, tough and informal throughout, yet he `picked up a lot of learning,' at Smith College, Northampton. In fact he learned several languages.Rexroth is not your everyday Beat poet, but a man of wide reading who, however, has now put all that behind him and moved on to more important matters. His account of his relationship with Ole Olsen, the Dial poet, typically shows how the egotistical Rexroth despises the pretentious and effete offerings of a man from yesteryear. `He [Olsen] despite having spent the last 25 years in a state hospital, `still writes the same kind of poetry ... which has not changed at all since he entered the Catholic Church in 1927.' They would talk about the Elizabethan poets, Donne's satires and much else, but it was impossible to discuss serious matters: `From his effeminate manners and pseudo-English accent you would think that ritualism and incense and silks and satins would appeal to him,' but they didn't. `He just loved Our Lady and Our Lord.'Nothing worse for Rexroth than being stuck in the past, like Olsen. Yet `in a well-organized society not only would there be a place for such an unworldly personality ... but such a person would be one of the leaders ... one of the true growing-points.' To which the sensible reader would reply in one word, euphemistically represented by the two letters BS!Unfortunately the book has no index, which is inconvenient especially because of the number of names dropped, including pals and enemies of the people.