3 books about Kerouac

It was exactly 50 years ago tomorrow – on Sept. 5, 1957 – that Jack Kerouac's beat-generation classic "On the Road" first hit bookstores. This September, to celebrate that anniversary, bookstores will again be awash in Kerouac.

On the Road: The Original Jack Kerouac Scroll offers readers a chance to see a text version of the 120-foot scroll of typing paper on which, during a three-week frenzy in the spring of 1951, Kerouac typed his first draft of the book (although he'd already been working on it mentally for some years at that point). This first draft – which is longer, edgier, and uses the real names of Kerouac's friends – will certainly be of interest to the book's serious fans.

Also of interest to those deeply into Kerouac is Jack Kerouac's American Journey: The Real-Life Odyssey of On the Road by Paul Maher Jr., which retraces Kerouac's steps and delves deeper into Kerouac's other writing and influences, offering some noteworthy new insights in the process.

Those uncertain about their level of interest in the Kerouac story might prefer to pick up Why Kerouac Matters: The Lessons of On the Road by John Leland (New York Times reporter and author of "Hip: A History'), which argues that – contrary to its reputation as an ode to rebellion – the book is full of lessons on how to grow up.

– Marjorie Kehe

Still to Mow

Author: Maxine Kumin

Maxine Kumin's Still to Mow should come with a warning label: This book starts twice, and the second opening is the one with the fire.

That's important to know because the collection – Kumin's 16th – opens with "Mulching," a poem that hints at the darkness to come, then ends with an image of the speaker "wanting to ask/ the earth to take my unquiet spirit,/ bury it deep, make compost of it." Those lines sound almost benign, especially since the poems that follow are fairly well-mannered.

But in section 2, Kumin replaces politeness with passion, and anger simmers below the imagery. Take, for example, these lines from "Extraordinary Rendition," where oak leaves are

… bruised the color of those

insurgent boys Iraqi policemen captured

purpling their eyes and cheekbones before

lining them up to testify to the Americans

that no, no, they had not been beaten …

Kumin writes about events with the clear gaze of a journalist and the ire of an activist. Dick Cheney and his pheasant hunting end up in her crosshairs, as do the war in Iraq and people who drive SUVs. Nicholas Berg and Daniel Pearl also color her pages, along with those left homeless in New Orleans and the starving masses in Zambia.

These poems are not for the faint of heart; they're for readers who, like Kumin, love this flawed world and feel compelled to point out the injustices they loathe. That's what fuels the work in this collection and why Kumin looks for order and substance in various forms.

As part of this search, she questions the coming of the Messiah and explores the value of religious ritual. She recalls her parents' shabbas celebrations – challah and roast beef, her father's recitations – and shows how powerless such practices are to save the planet and its creatures.

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