A sad anniversary

the death of Jack Kerouc in the middle ground between light and shadow

Today marks the 55th anniversary of the death of Catholic writer Jack Kerouac. May he rest in peace.

I was 16 when he died, his name vaguely familiar to me, his work unknown.

In recent years I’ve read most of his novels, letters, and journals. While there is much to admire about the man — his lifelong love and care for his mother is an often-overlooked example — he also provided us a number of seriously cringeworthy moments. So, he was human, flawed like the rest of us, but beyond that, he was a tortured soul, suffering in many ways, fueled by alcoholism.

He knew this, but the struggle went on unabated. I have the impression from all that I’ve read in his letters and journals that he was stranded in — as Rod Serling described The Twilight Zone — “the middle ground between light and shadow.”

His death at age 47 of alcoholism saddens me. What might have been? That’s the topic and title of my February, 2022 essay in DappledThings.org.

Take a look—you can find “Jack Kerouac and What Might Have Been” here.