The Horn by John Clellon Holmes (Crest S307 – 1959)

The Horn by John Clellon Holmes

The Horn by John Clellon Holmes

In that strange, savage world of night people, hot music and cool jazz he was the undisputed king

John Clellon Holmes reflects on the history of jazz in this classic novel. Edgar Pool is “The Horn,” the hero, and the man who helps change the face of American music. He becomes the legend whose triumphant and tragic career is reconstructed through the memories of his friends and lovers.

*Get it at Amazon.com*

Title: The Horn
Author: John Clellon Holmes
Imprint & Number: Crest S307
Cover price: 35¢
Publication date: 1959
Cover artist: Mitchell Hooks
ISBN: none

John Clellon Holmes

John Clellon Holmes

A significant jazz novel and 2nd book by John Clellon Holmes. The only paperback in a mound of book club editions at some dumpy little junk shop in OKC… cost me all of 25¢.

I really don’t understand the significance of “Beat” writings. I’ve rejected materialism, albeit involuntarily. Eastern philosophies never interested me any more than other religions, all of which seem equally plausible, and I’ve never had the desire to experiment in alternative sexual lifestyles.

I can’t manage to force myself through any of the Burroughs I own, although I’d probably get a kick out of Junkie if I could find a reasonably priced copy. I’ve been sitting on a Kerouac bio for a while, determined to plod through it before reading anything he wrote. Beyond Poe or Lovecraft (yes, Lovecraft), I’ve never been able to truly appreciate poetry on any level so Ginsberg is definitely “out” for now. After seeing Barfly, I have no desire to read the copy of Ham On Rye I own, or of locating any more of Bukowski’s stuff. Is he even considered a true Beat writer? I’m not even sure why I’m bringing him up. I suppose Ken Kesey is the only Beat author that I’d consider myself a fan of, and that’s because he’s responsible for One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, which I read only after seeing the film.

Someone explain it to me. What am I missing? Did one too many hits of Blue Unicorn frazzle the brain cells responsible for establishing literary taste? Maybe this post was all just an hallucination… Maybe I do like Beat and I’m just forgetting that I like it… and why I like it…

*I keep waiting on the fabled acid flashbacks. Not one, I swear… maybe the green, one-eyed monkey that lives in the medicine cabinet can tell me how to go about inducing one.

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