Scathing Book Reviews of On The Road, by Jack Kerouac

On the Road by Jack Kerouac is famous for being, well famous. I must admit that I tried to read it when I was in College and felt that it was the sort of thing someone in College should read. By the end, what I really wanted to do was to punch Dean Moriarty and company senseless. Or maybe to their senses. These Scathing Book Reviews of “On the Road” wish the book would pull over:

I mean, puh-leaze….. if I want to read about a bunch of idiotic, hormonal men driving around in a primitive attempt to get laid, I’ll just stop by the fraternity house.


When I started reading it, a friend commented, “On The Road! You can talk about it in bars and pick up chicks.”; And who doesn’t like the concept of road trips?


In short, I despise this piece of [garbage] and would advise all of its hipster doofus fans to lose the tie-dye clothes and throw away their bongs. Maybe then they will read something good for a change.


Anybody who considers this “the most important book I’ve read in my life” should be taken outside and strung up by their genitalia for all the world to laugh at.


I found my copy of On the Road lying on the side of the rode (irony, I know). After reading it I realized that I probably had the luck of finding it where I did because the previous owner had thrown it out the window in anger, frustration and disgust.

…and, to say it the way hep cats can savvy:

No, I don’t “dig it”, Dean.

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