I enjoyed this book far more a few years ago. I think Kerouac's tale is decent, gloriously rebellious, but over-hyped; this book is marked with a few fantastic insights but my belief is that On The Road is only popular due to timeliness and the oft-consumed glamorization of alcoholism. Kerouac was the face of the movement, not the grit.

William Burroughs was able to write about such tales while bringing to life the disease, the twisting of the gut that follows escapades similar to Kerouac's, only with less Hollywood-style machismo. His prose was searing and linguistically-interesting. Allen Ginsberg brought the politics, the societal rebellion.

I enjoy On The Road a bit more, however, when it is coupled with his daughter's personal essays, which add a touch of reality to the narrative fiction that makes up this book. The thing needs more perspective for me now.