“I hope it is true that a man can die and yet not only live in others but give them life, and not only life, but that great consciousness of life.” –Jack Kerouac. Jack Kerouac is most known for his outspoken literature that was shunned largely by the socially conservative 1950s. In my own opinion, Jack was an honest writer that gave me inspiration to give my honest thoughts on life also. His topics range from Buddhism to poverty, and his life was filled with lessons through traveling and experience.

            Jack Kerouac was born on March 12, 1922 in Lowell, Massachusetts. Surprisingly, his first language wasn’t English, but rather French. He grew up poor in Lowell, but played the star quarterback on his high school football team and was granted a scholarship to Columbia University in New York. Kerouac ended up dropping out of Columbia after trouble with the football coach. His father lost his business, and sunk into alcoholic depression, disappointed in his son. Jack tried several different paths in life, but they never quite fit him. In this time he had already began writing a novel known as “The Town and the City” and soon had it published. It gave him credit as an author, but not fame. He took several road trips with a friend Neal Cassady, and began a style of writing he is now famous for. The early 1950s were spent writing unpublished novels, and was attracting fame as the ‘Beat Generation’, a label Kerouac invented. He shared his works such as ‘On The Road’ with literary critics, but they rejected his writing, refusing to conform to the Beat ‘fad’. The Beat Generation was a fad, but his writing was certainly not. Soon, he became known for ‘On The Road’, and was popular. This was one of the worst things that could have happened to him, though, because he began to think that he had a standard to uphold. He developed a severe drinking problem that pushed his spiritual beliefs further away from him and was unstable. He still published many books, but they were written earlier. Big Sur was supposed to be his outlet to rediscover his writing talent, but instead, it pushed him deeper into it. He deteriorated his body by drinking, and died at the age of 47 in St. Petersburg, Florida in 1969.