“You hated it?” She said with a guffaw, “Well then, I guess we’re through! How can you deny the poignancy in such transparent counterculture?”
I really hadn’t expected this topic would lead to a debate, therefore I really wasn’t sure how to respond. I mean, it’s just a book. Granted, I was never the kind of guy who could ever sit down and relax by pouring over pages. Perhaps that’s why I thought “On the Road” was a pretentious and disillusioned waste of time.
“Beatnik counterculture, or not, the prose is simply horrendous!” Now, perhaps I was the pretension I was trying to debase, but I was too far gone in the back-and-forth. “The whole novel is nothing more than an excuse to document the escapades of a man destined to live in his past. Honestly, my dear, if you’ve been deluded by that nonsense, then perhaps Kerouac himself had a bit more of Dean Moriarty coursing through him than we all realized.”
She never lost a debate. Especially concerning literature— I crossed the line and I knew it was too late. Her next words have stuck with me; true, or not, as they ultimately would destroy, not only our relationship, but my identity as I had previously known. Her demeanor changed, no longer critiquing the merit of an alleged ‘classic’, but challenging the foundation on which our connection had been forged.
“You’ve refused to find the romanticism in coming-of-age.” Her eyes, lacking voice, but haunting nonetheless, “That’s the only connection that anyone can ever truly share; it’s the human condition. If you couldn’t pull meaning from that, then nothing that catches your gaze will ever be seen with beauty. And that, Dean, is why you’re not a protagonist— nor will you ever be.”
Life came back to her eyes as a realization.
“You lack depth. Convincing yourself of anything contrary would be a facade.”
Posted 3 months ago with 0 notesTags: 365 Writing Challenge
