Kerouac is all creation and no craft, which is both frustrating and fantastic as a reader sits down to absorb Tristessa (Penguin, ISBN: 0140168117, 1960) and wonder about the arrangement of ideas, what decisions Kerouac made when composing the story. It's a pointless thought process, because Kerouac couldn’t tell anyone those things even if they were sitting down and talking about it.
He said something in a letter that may be his one and only basis for writing, saying "I want to work in revelations, not just spin silly tales for money. I want to fish as deep down as possible into my own subconscious in the belief that once that far down, everyone will understand because they are the same that far down." He's all emotion, and while Tristessa may be a rambling tale of drugs and love, it’s a beautiful tale of drugs and love.
The Story and the Girl
Just as On the Road and Big Sur see Kerouac’s narrator wandering around in a haze, Tristessa is a huge mess that can't help but be loves. Both the story and the girl, actually. Tristessa, the girl in the story, is a morphine addict that radiates and completely dominates, if only momentarily, Jack's thoughts. He's on some silly little celibacy vow, however, and he passes on the opportunity – to paraphrase Tristessa herself – to be friendly in the bed.
Though Jack has a sense of loss when Tristessa is pretty much out of his life, it raises the question of whether or not he ever gets too connected to things in the first place. His life is a sieve, and he's always coming or going (“burn burn burn,” right?) one way or the other. He's too busy taking everything in and letting everything out that he doesn't have any time to get, grasp, and have. Does that make the story even more sad? Maybe so.
The Personal Tristessa
As Mexico City hooker Tristessa goes deeper and deeper into her morphine addition, she moves further away from Jack, who has embraced his love for her. Unfortunately, before she goes too deep into her drug-crutch, Jack can’t even communicate his feelings. He goes California and returns a year later to the now withering, fading Tristessa.
Tristessa the book achieves glory not only because if the purity of Kerouac’s prose, but because he poses questions about everyone’s own personal Tristessa. Has anyone gone through it all so far with no passed opportunities, no dissolution of reality, no irresistible woman who has no say in an empty future? There’s always the sound of something happening, echoing in the background.
Related Article – Visions of Gerard by Jack Kerouac
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