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Monday, April 13, 2015

John Steinbeck: How I got in trouble in college for not being in love with him

I'm a  native Californian. Born in Berkeley. Grew up mostly in the Bay Area. Dad took us on road trips all over. Relatives had a ranch we visited in Napa Valley; I loved everything about it. Honeymooned in Monterey/Carmel. Love to return and visit there anytime I can. But I don't love love love John Steinbeck, who mostly wrote about central and southern California, fate and injustice. Yes, even though he was all the rage when I was in high school, even though he won the Nobel Prize, and even though Grapes of Wrath is the most widely read novel in the world, I don't love him.

I do like the feel, the ambience, the ranchiness of his books set in CA. I can relate. And I think he wrote many very nice descriptive paragraphs. I think he definitely could write. But I don't think he was totally consistent. His self-edit button was missing. He writes along and then suddenly there's a really bad, out-of-place phrase or sentence, a preachiness or gushiness or oversentimentality. And, much worse, for all his careful observing, I don't think he had anything of any value to actually say. No solutions. No wisdom. Just dark cynisism and dreary hopelessness in the end. Many think there is nothing wrong with that, but I do. In short, he often comes across as a frustrated secular humanist (who strangely borrows his titles from the Bible), a know-it-all who hasn't thought things through or come to terms with reality, and a well-intended moralist with no sure foundation for his beliefs. Bitterness and intellectual dishonesty does stop one's progress, and I think for all Steinbeck's enthusiasm he got hung up somewhere in there.

Boy, did I get in trouble when I shared these thoughts in a paper when I returned to school several years ago in Utah. My English professor, who had previously acted quite friendly toward me (perhaps because we were about the same middle age), was incensed. Sitting at her desk in her office she pretty much called me a stupid hick. (Excuse me, I was born in Berkeley, California.) Even though she made clear that our papers on East of Eden could show any opinion, even if it disagreed with her opinion, as long as that opinion was backed up with text from the book which I most certainly did, she gave me what I considered an unfair grade (I think it was a B something) and suggested I read a certain other student's paper (which apparently she agreed with) for some enlightenment! And another exclamation point!

I think the poor woman was completely smitten with the man. I noticed we weren't friends anymore after that, and also because when called upon I had something the least bit critical and discerning to say about Toni Morrison; she really hated me then. But I still got an A in her class---she had no choice. By the way, the East of Eden movie is way better than the book ( I wrote a short paper on that too), which is never a good thing.

I just reread Of Mice and Men and The Red Pony (what's with the supposedly regular little boy who loves to maim and kill little animals???) and The Pearl to see if I wanted them on my list of good short books. Still have the same opinion. Some of it is very good, but not always consistently good (where was his editor?) Here's an example of a short paragraph from Of Mice and Men that stopped my reading:

"As it happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment."

Oh, you mean time stood still? It bugs me when authors too obviously wax verbose. This is called jargon.

He also likes to shock the reader, for no good reason. I think the only book he wrote I really like is Travels with Charley, which I read as a teen and then again recently. Lots of good descriptions, and yes some melancholy, but without the editorial jabs and existential whining.

I think my paper, "Steinbeck's East of Eden: Between a Church and a Whorehouse," (check it out) was pretty darn good, given the assignment. Sadly, the best word I can find to describe his work as a whole, is nonexcellent, at least in the most important ways. He was a faithless malcontent and his writing sometimes feels dated, generally oversentimental, and caustically bitter. That's my opinion.

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