From Publishers Weekly
The form of these eight long, previously unpublished poems written between 1954 and 1961, is, Kerouac writes, "limited by the small page of the breastpocket notebook in which they were written." Each poem is actually a series of "blues choruses," and they leap with drunkenly self-centered themes and wordplay, laced with some vivid, subjective observations of street scenes, as in Canto Uno of "MacDougal Street Blues": "I mean sincerely/ naive sailors buying prints/ Women with red banjos/ On their handbags... They don't even listen to me when/ I try to tell them they will die." Girls, nonsense and the craft of writing are topics that figure prominently. Like all of Kerouac's work, these choruses live or die with the poet's enthusiasm, sometimes sunk in navel-gazing, sometimes stunning in their inspired leaps between images or thoughts. They beg to be read aloud and, like the jazz they are meant to reflect, some sections really swing while others are just keeping time. Copyright 1995 Reed Business Information, Inc.


From Library Journal
Kerouac's poetry is oddly appealing, even when it isn't very good, which is often in this collection of "blues"?sequences of song-poems rooted in urban locales that range from San Francisco to Mexico City. The given limitation of each short poem is the size of a page in the poet's tiny notebook; in each sequence, a thread is carried over from one poem to the next, like song verses or diary entries interrupted by drink or sleep. Best known, of course, for his 1957 novel, On the Road, Kerouac always seems to be on the move. From the Bowery to Mexico City, he sketches what he sees: his vision is permeated with booze, suffering, and an admirable drive to get it all down on paper. His faith in the redemptive act of writing is particularly refreshing at this time of conservative backlash against the arts. These previously unpublished poems annoy and amuse and occasionally relax into beauty: "And raindrops/that don't know/You've been deceived/Slide on iron/Raggedly gloomy." For subject collections.?Ellen Kaufman, Dewey Ballantine Law Lib., New YorkCopyright 1995 Reed Business Information, Inc.


From Booklist
Gaps in Kerouac's complex and sonorous canon are being filled in slowly but surely. Last winter brought his Selected Letters and The Portable Jack Kerouac , and now we have this set of eight previously unpublished "blues" poems written between 1954 and 1961. These long poems, series of "choruses" or sketches, resemble, in form and avidity, Kerouac's amazing verse creation Mexico City Blues (1959). They are strongly tied to place and are, as the allusion to music implies, boldly improvisational. Kerouac finds and breaks connections between images and observations as he channels the energy of San Francisco, New York, Washington, and various Mexican towns and cities into great rushes of language. As he riffs and indulges in easy wordplay, Kerouac can be either astute or sloppy, visionary or banal, but, as Robert Creeley writes in his fine introduction, his poems "provide an intensely vivid witness of both writer and time." Whatever their failings, these scintillating poems will strike a chord with fans of performance poetry or even rap, as well as with Kerouac enthusiasts. Donna Seaman

ANNOTATION

Although he is best known as a writer of prose, Jack Kerouac was an important poet, his work described by Michael McClure as "startling in its majesty and comedy and gentleness and vision." These eight extended poems, composed between 1954 and 1961, offer exuberant forays into language and consciousness that combine rich imagery, complex internal rhythms, and a reverent attentiveness to the moments.

FROM THE CRITICS

Publishers Weekly

The form of these eight long, previously unpublished poems written between 1954 and 1961, is, Kerouac writes, ``limited by the small page of the breastpocket notebook in which they were written.'' Each poem is actually a series of ``blues choruses,'' and they leap with drunkenly self-centered themes and wordplay, laced with some vivid, subjective observations of street scenes, as in Canto Uno of ``MacDougal Street Blues'': ``I mean sincerely/ naive sailors buying prints/ Women with red banjos/ On their handbags... They don't even listen to me when/ I try to tell them they will die.'' Girls, nonsense and the craft of writing are topics that figure prominently. Like all of Kerouac's work, these choruses live or die with the poet's enthusiasm, sometimes sunk in navel-gazing, sometimes stunning in their inspired leaps between images or thoughts. They beg to be read aloud and, like the jazz they are meant to reflect, some sections really swing while others are just keeping time. (Sept.)

Library Journal