The summer, the fall, and the winter of discontent, shovel after shovel of snow that turns to filthy slush, as in slush pile (publishers’ slush piles) . . . the discontent of youth, the discontent of marriage, the discontent of writers, the discontent of New Yorkers, and the discontent that turns to temporary joy at the nightclub The Go Hole. “Go! Go!” and “gone.” The discontent of life right from the beginning, as whimsically stated by William Blake:
“My mother groan’d! my father weapt.
Into the dangerous world I leapt” i
Go the 1952 novel by John Clellon Holmes is a must for any serious Beat reader. It has none of the poetry of Kerouac, but provides an authentic background and clear insight into character, especially chilling are portraits of Bill Cannastra and Neal Cassady. Holmes delivers compelling studies of Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac, and some more minor characters, such as a sympathetic one of Luanne Henderson.
Go was published five years before On the Road, “your book was accepted and mine rejected,” ii in an ironic, fascinating bit of publishing history. “What do I do now? . . . It’s been nothing but a dream all along. How can I earn money? What job can I do?” All those years of writing, gathering material, writing, writing, writing, and then, nothing, rejection, humiliation, a “numb bewilderment of these hapless thoughts.” iii
When reading the Beats, keep in mind that before the Beat Generation, this was the World War II Generation, as explained in this passage about The Go Hole:
“The Go Hole was where all the high schools, the swing bands, and the roadhouses of their lives had led these young people; and above all it was the result of their vision of a wartime America as a monstrous danceland, extending from coast to coast . . . In this modern jazz, they heard something rebel and nameless that spoke for them . . . It was more than a music; it became an attitude toward life . . . and these introverted kids . . . who had never belonged anywhere before, now felt somewhere at last.” iv
So the go in Go comes from the muse, Neal Cassady , called Hart, who makes no attempt to hide his excitement for the music in his “enormous nervous energy” as he grins and mumbles his approval: “Go! Go!” As Hart shouts “go!” at the musicians, the audience is yelling “go!” at Hart. Holmes, called Hobbes, sees through Hart’s con man ways, but Jack, called Pasternak, and Allen, called Stofsky, adore him. v
The rest is history, Beat history, and once again, in the words of Blake, which Stofsky takes to heart:
“Seek love in the pity of other’s woe,
In the gentle relief of another’s care,
In the darkness of night & the winter’s snow
In the naked and outcast, seek love there!” vi
i Holmes, John Clellon. Go. (Mamaroneck, New York: Paul P. Appel, Publisher, 1977). p. 70.
ii Ibid., p. 254.
iii Ibid., p. 250.
iv Ibid., p. 161.
v Ibid., p. 115-116.
vi Ibid., p. 276.
Very well written. Thank you for sharing.
“Chronos Schmonos”
by Giuseppi Martino Buonaiuto
Time:
We can never truly,
Never fully
Grasp the subject.
We can measure Time,
But we really don’t know.
What is Time?
The tick tock clock
Gives just inkling.
We hear. We see.
We are aware.
Sequence—
An essential piece of definition—
Yet, a bare fraction,
Sliced off with a
Bare bodkin,
Scraping Shakespeare’s
Lyric-perfect bare bottom
For inspiration, I suppose.
But I digress.
Time: longitudinal?
The model–of course—for all
Correlational research.
Repetitive observations
Of the same variables
Over long periods of time,
Often many decades–
Our lives:
“Just one damn thing after another.”
Quantum mechanics, be damned.
Giuseppi, Joseph, Joe,
I like your poem . . . and the poetry of your name.
Mille grazie!
“Women’s Lib Under the Rising Sun”
by Giuseppi Martino Buonaiuto
You might think that Women’s Lib in
Japan began due to the flood of
Western thinking reaching
Its isolated shores after
The so-called Meiji Restoration in 1868.
But you’d be wrong.
Think about it: American and European girls
Were not exactly burning their bras
In the late nineteenth century.
What deluge of Western thinking & influence?
It was in the aftermath
Of World War II that
Real changes to the status of
Japanese women began.
Most of the young & middle-aged
Husbands & fathers were dead.
Their cities were garrisoned,
By tall Caucasian-Americans,
Calling the shots.
Nip local honey
Trading their tight twats
For PX ration cards,
Chocolate & cigarettes, or
“B-Yen” military scrip,
That funny money
Issued to American Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen.
Why would we still honor
Japanese males?
You lost the war, Samurai Sam.
It’s your fault your
Wives and mothers,
Your Geishas & Mama-sans,
Are all whores for the
Gaijin (外人?, [ɡaidʑiɴ]) Conquerors!
Your daughters literally nipped in the bud.
General MacArthur’s mandate—
That new Japanese constitution of 1946–
Stipulating equality between the sexes.
Japanese women unleashed.
Godzilla in the Ginza: Amok.