This book is a collection of articles written by John Steinbeck, from 1936 to 1966. It is interesting to watch the development of the author. Steinbeck’s style doesn’t seem to change that much. He writes in fairly short yet descriptive sentences, and likes to focus on details rather than on grand sweeping scenes, and on the ordinary person. Even when he writes of extraordinary people he is more interested in their non-public personas. He is interested in money; he was young during the Depression, and started out with no money at all. Even when he is rich, he always has an eye for those without. He is rarely without a woman, and seems to get through them in quick succession, although he never really talks much about them. He gives more details about his children – two sons. It seems there was a rift; maybe not a serious one, but a growing apart – but the introduction doesn’t give details and the articles don’t elaborate. When Steinbeck talks of his life, it is mostly of the public side, that anyone at a party with him or eavesdropping in a cafe could find out, never of what happens behind closed doors, with the exception of an innocuous, innocent piece about his sons when they went camping.
Steinbeck always wanted to be a writer, and a good one. It is fortunate that he was good, because he never doubted his ability, even when he was poor.
He can’t resist moralizing, when it comes to politics. I don’t doubt that his opinions were informed ones, and true and strongly held, but he was definitely the type of man who liked a soap box. Again, it is fortunate that he was a well known writer, otherwise perhaps he would have become a crashing bore. I suppose, though, that the impact of reading his powerful piece on The Trial of Arthur Miller would have had greater impact at the time than reading it fifty years later, when no one cares about communism any more, sandwiched between a biting piece about race relations and another defending the behaviour of America in Korea.
He’s quite a hawk, Steinbeck – it kind of surprised me, since (by modern standards) he’s generally on the bleeding heart liberal side of the scale. He even supported Vietnam, although his wife says that he changed his mind after visiting, but was too ill to write of his new views. He died shortly after his visit, in 1968. He loves war machines – actually, it seems that he just liked machines, and the army always gets the best toys. To give an example: the article I’m reading now (Puff, the Magic Dragon) states in astonishment that this oddly named aircraft can ’spray out 2,800 rounds a minute – that’s right, 2,800. In one quarter-turn, these guns fine-tooth an area bigger than a football field and so completely that not even a tuft of crabgrass would remain alive.’ He goes on to give further details of these wondrous weapons – not because he loved killing – whenever killing comes up he abhors it – but because they are just so cool.
Steinbeck is a powerful writer, and reading of events and even every day life of the America of the past from his perspective is fascinating. But you’re not supposed to read short articles one after another. The author starts to seem trite, and his words repeat. In a book, the author controls the experience and can keep the interest, but articles are things to glance at and move on from and don’t always benefit from such sustained attention. Fortunately, the topics change.
The best is saved until last – a series of articles writen for a book of photography, called America and Americans. If you’re looking for analysis of what America is then this is the place. Beautifully written with insights that seem fresh and pertinent today, and pertinent beyond America.
