Dharma Bums is at its best when Kerouac is hitchhiking, hopping trains, and running amok in cities. When his Ray is hanging out with friends, it becomes tiresome right quick, as his friends are not as interesting or wacky as he thinks they are.
Kerouac's automatic writing seems more like an excuse for not editing his work, which results in sentence structure and lazy word repetition pulling the reader out of the text.
The spirituality of the book is just so much hokum.
That being said, there are parts of true beauty here and they redeem Dharma Bums. When Kerouac finds his rhythm, it totally kills it. (Posted on 3/28/14)