On the Road: A Novel

They say On the Road is a manifesto of freedom. In reality it is a diary of endless hitchhiking where the characters rush back and forth with no goal, no meaning and zero respect for the reader’s time.You keep reading thinking maybe now they will finally find some answers. But no. They just get in a car, drive somewhere, abandon everything and then get in another car. This is not freedom, it is a chronic lack of planning and adult responsibility dressed up as philosophy.The narrative drags like gum stuck under a park bench, supposedly “iconic” but utterly tasteless. The characters are so flat that even their “madness” and “lust for life” feel like a performance, not genuine passion. And all of it is wrapped in endless “deep” conversations that in reality boil down to the fact that they have no idea what they want.On top of that, the way the author talks about women is full of nonsense. They are either portrayed as whores or as eternally dissatisfied gold diggers, which only makes the book feel even more dated and shallow.Now I finally get why the Beat Generation adored this book, it is perfect for anyone who wants to look profound while doing absolutely nothing.