Dharma Bums is a novel by Jack Kerouac, first written in the mid-fifties, more than half a century ago.
This must be the third time I’ve reread the text, but my original copy is long gone, probably lent out to someone. Never to be seen again.
Digging through the old notes, I was attempting to find out the last time I’d read the book. Looks like more than ten years back, 02/04 being the last, dated reference.
Just have to figure, any current hipster worth his or her low-slung, skinny jeans and ironic attire, any hipster at all, should be exposed to this text.
It was the original source of hipster material.
Seriously, dude.
I spent a few minutes, trying to find a free copy of the book, a digital, free copy. I didn’t make much effort, and it’s one of those texts that’s still copyrighted, and for sale, still. However, once again, the Bexar Biblio Tech came through, so I could check out a copy to peruse, briefly. There was something about it, the novel, the text, the book, something that held great meaning at one time.
Sort of sad that my old copy has disappeared, but that happens when one runs an occasional lending library of sorts.
“Borrowers of books are frequently crooks.”
