Rating: 
Summary: Top Notch
Review: Before I read Eddy Joe's account, I could only dream of "riding the rails" and learning hobo slang, songs, and rituals. Now I not only know how to recognize the symbol for "hobo graveyard", I have the means to make my own.
Rating: 
Summary: The Vulgar is Often Profound
Review: Cotton sets out on a literal journey by freight train only to realise along the way that it was worthless without its complimentary and parallel, the figurative journey. In this way it resembles Kerouac's tireless hope, a faith in the future. But Kerouac died drunk young, and ON THE ROAD is a pipe dream, a sad book where there is no resolution, where Neal Cassady is found out a man, not a hero. Where Kerouac has Cassady, Cotton has the freight train, and no pretense about faith and hope, beatific enlightenment and redemption in the madness of music, women, words and poetry. Cotton's journey is a lonely one, and beneath the crude language there is a timid poet, but more importantly a very lonely young man who chooses not to flee sadness, but to immerse himself in it. In Cotton we find a reaction to the blighted idealism of the sixties generation - a person not contented so much with words and literary, artistic achievement, but concerned with the marriage of his art and action, the substance of his real life. After all, Kerouac never ate out of trash cans... So, let's not make too much of what he lacks in technical training, politcal agenda and ideals. He has no ideals, and thank him for it, that wonderful and rare quality of "hopelessness without despair," and his sense of humor and heart.
Rating: 
Summary: Pretentious Bunk
Review: I liked the premise of this book and Dave Eggers seemed to endorse it on the back. But whereas Eggers has earned the right to be arrogant, this author shoves his undeserving arrogance and pretentiousness down the reader's throat. It starts with explaining that a glossary is provided, so if you need further explanations of hobo terminology, you can look there. This would have been a great resource, but the pandering manner with which Cotton presents the glossary and his holier-than-thou attitude, which is thinly veiled by his never-ending reassurances that he is just a tramp. That better men than him ride the rails. But the overall tone is one of a guy constantly reminding the reader that he rode the rails and the reader never will, so everything must be explained very carefully to the naive, stupid reader. Unless you're an idiot and need to be pandered to, skip this.
Rating:
Summary: A great chance to hop a train, or at least think about it.
Review: I've been around hobos and train hoppers for some time now. Living in Kansas City and Denver like I have you can get used to seeing the huge dirty freight trains roll by in the night to who knows where. Eddy Joe Cotton takes you on a trip aboard those trains, as a close friend would, so you can experience what it's like to look out from a box car as you roll though American heartland cities in the night. He wanders off and sobers up a bit near the end of the book, but that just makes the other 95% of it feel more real than any other train hopping book that I've ever read before. You'll never look at train tracks the same way after this honest and allegorical journal of one man's road less traveled is read.
Rating: 
Summary: I AM NOT AN ANIMAL, I AM A HOBO!
Review: So what do you if you're nineteen, working with your father as a brickmason, and he fires you for sleeping on the job? Well, if you're Eddy Joe Cotton, you find the nearest truckstop, meet up with an old hand named Alabama, and jump a train. This memoir covers Cotton's first month on the tracks from Denver to Las Vegas as he meets up with old and young tramps, starlets, and murderers.Eddy Joe Cotton is a name made up by the author to be his "tramp" name. Hoboes don't look back at their past a lot and it's almost a ceremonial thing to leave your old name behind if you're a real traveller. There is a constant conflict inside Eddy. The conflict is between living the perilous, well, let's say precarious life of the hobo, and the American Dream. By American Dream I mean that slough of a nice house, car, wife, whatever. The life of freedom is one of loneliness and an avoidance of responsibility according to Cotton. Some would see this as a rejection of adulthood in a way. In some ways I agree. What's going to happen to Eddy when he gets old and he can't jump on a train? Who's gonna take care of him after all his wanderings? What is he truly gaining here? Of course Eddy rolls out the cliched "it's not the destination, it's the journey" hokey. I don't know, this book is sad in the same way that Jack Kerouac's books are sad. I mean, the longing to belong and live a normal life which can never be had by the writer. It's something that can threaten to overwhelm any happiness or at the least cast a shade on it. There is a lot of interesting information here, what with all the hobo jargon, and it really does make for a good adventure. Call me cynical but at some points I began to debate Eddy's credibility. I mean how do I know that this book is true? At times, his escapades have the feel of lies to me. The fact that I hold this book in my hand kinda ruins his credibility to me. For a man who doesn't want the materialistic and is supposedly a hobo, I'm sure he had to get an agent and make a book deal just like any other person. If you were a true "tramp", what would you want to publish a book for? Your concern should be with living, not with dredging up the past. I'm much more impressed with Jack Kerouac, who descended into alcholism and death BECAUSE he was famous, thereby proving the fact that he didn't want success and fame. While Hobo is entertaining and has good passages, I believe it should be taken with a grain of salt.
Rating:
Summary: The Hobo Poet is Yet Among Us
Review: The first thing that must be recognized by any reader of Hobo is that it's not a pure, unimpassioned historical narrative, not an unretouched photograph--nor was it intended to be. Art, by definition, never is. The reader who expects a tourist's snapshot of Saint-Rémy will be disappointed to discover they've stumbled upon something more akin to Van Gogh's "Starry Night." Anyone familiar with Hunter S. Thompson's "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" will quickly grasp what they've gotten themselves into. I do not mean to imply, mind you, that Hobo is fiction, masquerading as an unadorned personal history. If you pick up Hobo with the motive of looking over the shoulder of a contemporary descendant of the depression era hobo, yearning to feel the warmth of his campfire without getting burned by it--in all honesty, that was my motive--you'll find your $12 to have been money well spent. Far more importantly, if you have the perspicacity to recognize what the author was attempting to convey, the value of goods received will transcend the notion of dollars and cents: by the energy of the author's poetic skills, you will see through his eyes: see the electric lights of a Nevada town whisking by; feel the heartache of parting with a friend, with the certain knowledge that you'll never see them again; taste the acid roadhouse coffee, left on the burner too long; absorb the overwhelming sorrow of being no one, at no place, with nowhere to go. The reviews here have run the gamut, from "pretentious bunk," to raves, to one bothered by the bizarre irrelevancy that the author must have, at one time, consulted a literary agent--as if Jack Kerouac had stood atop a literary Mt. Ararat and handed down stone tablets, never defiling himself with business of survival. Survival is a matter that Eddie Joe Cotton must surely have learned quite a bit about in his decade aboard boxcars. It is the unfortunate fate of the artist of innovation, and the courage required to come forth with it, that his or her leaps over stagnate lakes of human conformity will most likely go unrewarded. Not unlike those of Van Gogh's, the value of Eddie Joe Cotton's effort won't be recognized--if ever--until generations after the embers of his campfire have settled to cold ash.
Rating:
Summary: A taste of very different life
Review: This book doesn't follow a satisfying chronological path, but the title is honest, a young man's thoughts not necessarily in perfect order but alive and compelling. The chapters are as entries in a diary and simple words create vivid images of a life totally alien to me and anyone I know. An intro...grandparents, father, mother, circumstance....starts it off, then he's off on the road following a father/son blowup.
We meet a bums and burnouts, hobos and waitresses and they are real people. He conveys the grit and flavor, the smell and grime to the reader. He's chasing a dream and I was cheering him on. Then plop...the book ends and there is no real conclusion. But the anecdotes are like stories on their own and offer some sense of closure. I was sorry that the narrative was over but I did not feel as though I were left hanging. More like someone was describing part of a life still in progress. I enjoyed the book and would recommend it. It isn't profound or deep but it is colorful and engrossing.
Rating:
Summary: One of the most beautiful things you will ever read
Review: This is not, as some reviewers would have you believe, a juvenile attempt at autobiography, or a ripoff of Kerouac. Neither is it a work that is undeserving of praise, or trite. Instead, the author instills a great deal of poetry and threads it through the years of collective experience he had being homeless. The only thing I wish he had included more material on was the topic of fitting into society, of feeling like he couldn't reintegrate. He was basically on his own at 16 (not nineteen as it says above in the review). I find it both amazing and heartwarming that he finally reached a point in his life where he wanted to finally turn things around, through a literary achievement that tells a very American saga. It's gorgeous prose, and though he skips over time a lot, the stories he tells are both beautifully told and gritty, about people forgotten, or shunned by society, sometimes victims, sometimes insane, sometimes dangerous, sometimes just throwaways. It's a fascinating look at the gypsy culture in this country as well as how people really survive that way. I really recommend it if you're looking for that sort of read. Parts of it are uncomfortable but really, I found it a profound book, with meditations on the American dream and the American reality that was very cutting and nostalgic at the same time. I wouldn't ever welcome that life, the taste of it I've seen is enough, but yeah, his book is very well written. I suppose part of me liked it so much because it didn't shy away from talking about the things that make America exactly the hazardous place it is, and why. He really exposes a great number of things that make you go "wow, I am so glad I wasn't there to see this in person". Especially given what the current administration idealizes, this book is a perfect antidote for the person willing to say America is the best country on earth. This book is a wake up call to the people who tout the "no child left behind" act, and the lack of insight that is our system, one that constantly, irrecovably overlooks.
Rating:
Summary: One of the most beautiful things you will ever read
Review: This is the first book in years that I've simply had to put down and walk away from. Mr. "Cotton" and his ramblings remind me of the pretentious b.s. of Anais Nin. Namely, overrated, trite, and without spirit. Eddy Joe wants us all to understand how sad he is, how hard life is out on the rails, and how all the hobos have heart and spirit simply because they live in a world of grime and impermanence. Well, there are some great people out there in the world, and some can be found drifting across the country, but if you believe Eddy Joe, the hobo community has a collective spiritual superiority simply by virtue of their lack of resources. My chief criticism, however, is the actual writing. Time and time again, the author employs extraordinarily tired literary cliches, writing with an annoying and hackneyed tone. Maybe I just don't "get it." But I aint no professional reviewer, neither. In other words, I don't have to get it . . .and my favorite authors, like Cortazar, Boll and Dahl, don't force this issue, the understanding, and the transportation, come effortlessly. Try this book out. . .it might fit you like a rail oil stained shoe. It sure might, Alabama. . .it sure might.
Rating:
Summary: An excellant, funny, and simple memoir
Review: While many people criticize Cotton for his work, I find it to be an extremely funny and personal account of a young, somewhat cynical but always grounded, man who has one helluva journey. Too often the status quo in exactly how to write this or write that get in the way of a darn good story. This is a piece that will make you think and make you laugh. It is the most entertaining piece I've read in years. The author possesses a decidedly patriotic air while illuminating the unique aspects of our American culture. A must read.
|
