Tortilla Flat by John Steinbeck

Source of book: I own this.

Tortilla Flat was Steinbeck’s first real success. Set in Monterey, California, and telling a story of people on the edges of society, it is in many ways a precursor to Cannery Row, which shares many of its themes and elements. However, it is not quite the same book, despite the similarities.

The particular characters that Steinbeck creates are all “paisanos.” Which is a mix of Mexican, Spanish, Native American, and Caucasian - people who have occupied California since long before it became part of the United States. Not quite as aristocratic as the Californios, the great Mexican-Spanish landholders and luminaries of the Spanish and Mexican periods. Well, not even close. By the time this book is set, they were more like the typical Californian drifter sorts who worked when they had to, and not when they didn’t. In this sense, they are strongly related to Mack and his buddies in that latter book.

In Tortilla Flat, Danny is the leader of the pack, and is intentionally written as a (literally) poor man’s King Arthur. He inherits two houses from his grandfather, in the part of Monterey known then as Tortilla Flat - which is not flat at all, but a hillside - but is the home of the paisanos and other down-and-out sorts.

The story starts off with Danny. He inherits, and gets drunk. Then, he starts collecting friends - the various knights of the Round Table, so to speak. They too share Danny’s love for leisure, companionship, and as much red wine as they can purchase, barter, or steal.

Danny is the rich man, naturally, as he has two houses. Well, until Pilon (the smartest of the bunch) and Pablo (not so much) accidentally burn down one. This saves Danny the trouble of charging rent, which is never, ever, paid.

There are a host of crazy characters in this book. Pilon is the philosopher. Danny the ringleader. The Pirate as the one productive (and mentally challenged) member of the group. Jesus Maria and Pablo as sidekicks. Big Joe as the brawn of the outfit. And the various women and ordinary townspeople who inhabit their world. 

 The Pirate and his dogs. 

Illustration from the 1942 edition

by Ruth Gannett

In the end, like the Round Table, the group disintegrates, and Danny dies under circumstances which show the depression and mental breakdown that Arthur undergoes at the end of his life.

It is hard to know exactly what to make of this book. On the one hand, like Cannery Row, which is a more focused book (in my opinion), it is full of interesting and amusing incidents. On the other, it indulges in some kind of unfortunate stereotyping of Mexican-Americans. The group lives to get drunk and sit around shooting the bull. They steal anything not bolted down. The women seem to get pregnant by multiple men, and be sexually loose at most times.

So, it’s complicated. That’s one reason that I find Cannery Row to be the better book. It lacks the racial issues, and seems to have a more coherent story arc. However, even in this early effort, Steinbeck shows his skill at writing. Whether or not you like the stories he tells (and I know people who hate Steinbeck), it is hard to ignore just how skilled he is at telling them. Every book I read of his, I marvel at how compact yet evocative his descriptions are, how he can take a single sentence and make a world of it, and how he never feels wordy or long winded. It is a totally different style from other favorite authors: very American, very modern, and more terse. But it is great writing indeed.

Just a few lines that are worth mentioning. The paisanos are talking about Cornelia, who is a bit wild, but always has masses sung for her father - who appears to have been even wilder. Pablo questions whether these masses are effective.

“That soul will need plenty of masses. But do you think a mass has virtue when the money for that mass comes out of men’s pockets while they sleep in wine at Cornelia’s house?”

“A mass is a mass,” said Pilon. “Where you get two-bits is of no interest to the man who sells you a glass of wine. And where a mass comes from is of no interest to God. He just likes them, the same as you like wine.”

I’m not convinced Pilon is right about the second part, although he certainly is about the first. And I think he is right that the purveyors of the Religious-Industrial Complex don’t give a rat’s rear end about where they get their political power or money from as well. As the last election has proven.

Steinbeck was not a fan of religion. (And honestly, although I remain a committed Christian - a follower of Christ - I am not either these days. Here in America, it has become a strong force for evil, sad to say.) Here is another perceptive and sharp-edged barb.

It must be admitted with sadness that Pilon had neither the stupidity, the self-righteousness, nor the greediness for reward ever to become a saint.

Don’t get me wrong. I admire many of the saints. The writers of the New Testament. Saint Francis of Assisi, many of the women. But particularly for our modern “saints,” it does seem to require greed, self-righteousness, and willful ignorance. I’m not as cynical as Steinbeck, but damn it’s hard not to be right now. (I’m thinking of how everyone I know who defends breaking up immigrant families and criminalizing those who come here fleeing violence and poverty - and there are more than I expected - claims the name of Christ. Mostly Evangelicals, but a Catholic here and there too. And every last one of them white... it’s been a hard month.)

I should also mention the hilarious treasure hunting chapter. Like the hunt for the grail, it ends with disappointment, but in a humorous way.

Anyway, I still think this isn’t Steinbeck’s best book, but it is still a worthy read. I admire his idea: King Arthur set among the marginalized. Already, he shows a knack for characterization and vignette which would truly flower in his later works.

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck (Play version - The Empty Space 2017)

I previously reviewed the novella version of Of Mice and Men here. This is the play version, which Steinbeck himself adapted from the book.

I wasn’t sure I would get to see this particular one, because our long trip to see the eclipse left us with just a single weekend which was already full. My wife (who didn’t go with us for the eclipse) and eldest daughter (who came back immediately after the eclipse so she wouldn’t miss too much school) went and saw it while we were gone, and they said it was good. My second daughter really wanted to see it, and we managed to work things so that she and I could go together.

I won’t rehash the plot or my prior observations - read the previous post for that - but I will mention some things specific to the play.

I have reviewed quite a few plays at The Empty Space. Over the last several years, since the kids have been old enough to either come along or to manage by themselves for an evening, we have been to more than half of their productions - and not just the Shakespeare. For a shockingly low price, you can count on seeing high production and artistic values on display in a tiny space with modest budgets. Of Mice and Men was yet another example. Simple sets, an intimate setting, and strong work by the cast.

The lead parts of George and Lennie were played by Nick Ono and Trayvon Fletcher, respectively. Nick Ono has had quite a few major parts this year, whether showing he can sing (and choreograph) in If/Then to his turn as Romeo in Romeo and Juliet. This play called for more nuance than either of the others, and I was impressed with his interpretation.

Trayvon Fletcher has really made his mark on The Empty Space since his debut last year in Othello. (He was credited as Trayvon Trimble - now as Trayvon T. Fletcher - I’d be curious to know the story behind that.) Anyway, he has been part of a number of plays since, and it is obvious that he is developing as an actor with experience. He was a natural choice for Lennie - I can’t think of a better one. He captured the naivety and fearfulness of the part, while convincingly looking the part of the large bear-man. 

 Nick Ono (George) and Trayvon Fletcher (Lennie)

The usual suspects, so to speak, filled the other parts. Carlos Vera gave a malevolent turn as the loner Carlson, Bob Kempf said his few lines as The Boss. Brittany Beaver got the only female part as the unnamed “Curly’s Wife.” She is a BC theater student who seems a bit green at this point. She did a competent job, and very much looked the part, but wasn’t particularly memorable. I imagine time and experience will do their work. 

 Brittany Beaver (Curly's Wife)

One particular performance which really stood out was that of Travis McElroy as Candy, the older worker relegated to latrine duty after losing his hand. His quiet desperation and agony, his flicker of hope, and the crushing realization that he too will likely never fulfil his dreams were all portrayed in heart-rending manner by McElroy. It was a memorable performance.

Travis McElroy (Candy)

The character of Slim is important too, and Ryan Lee played that role. I have mentioned Lee previously for his superb turns as Tom in The Glass Menagerie and Mortimer in Arsenic and Old Lace. Lee is becoming one of those actors I would go see regardless of the play. In this case, he was outstanding; Slim has to be a bit aloof, but also sympathetic. He is, after all, the only character who understands the impossible choice that George will face, and the only one who really gets the relationship between George and Lenny. Slim also has to navigate the treacherous waters of the failed marriage of Curly. He is the tall, dark, and handsome guy that she wants to flirt with, but he must keep his job and stay out of trouble. It’s not an easy part to play, and I was impressed. It is hard to believe Lee is still a student. 

It was also interesting to see Nolan Long again. He was hilarious as Peter, the illiterate servant, in Romeo and Juliet, and he was convincing as Curly, the son of the boss, with a Napoleon complex.

Nolan Long (Curly) and Nick Ono (George)

One final mention is that of Shaquille Hill as Crooks. This is an interesting part as the only black character. Adding to the layer here is that Fletcher is also black, so the conversation where Crooks explains to Lennie why he can’t be friends with the other men is interesting to watch. I don’t know how they kept straight faces, but they did. I guess that is why they are actors. Hill has stage presence, and I look forward to seeing him in future productions.

There is one difference between the play and the novel that I thought was worth noting. (Spoilers!)

The play ends with the final gunshot. The lights go out, and that is it. It is quite an effective ending. (There were some sobs in the audience.) I am torn, though, about whether the book ending is better. In that case, after the final event, Slim and George walk off together, devastated by the way things had to end. The clueless Carlson gives the final line. “Now what the hell ya suppose is eatin’ them two guys?” I can’t decide. Both endings are effective.

I am really enjoying having children old enough to appreciate more difficult themes in both literature and drama. My daughter liked the play (enjoyed might be too strong of a word) - she has always had an affinity for tragedy, and a high body count is actually a plus for her. My hope, of course, is that all my children develop empathy and an understanding of the complexity of life and ethics. Plays like this can be a part of that.

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck

Source of book: I own this.

But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,

In proving foresight may be vain:

The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men

         Gang aft agley,

An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,

         For promis’d joy!

~Robert Burns (from “To A Mouse”)

Steinbeck, more than any other well known writer of serious literature, belongs to my home state of California. As far as the “Most Famous Author from the State” goes, Steinbeck ranks pretty high. I mean, some of the others range from the unknown (Montana: Maile Meloy) to the schlocky (Nebraska: Nicholas Sparks.) But California gets John Steinbeck, both well known and well respected.

A bonus thrill to his writing, therefore, for a native Californian like myself, is that his locations are familiar and all around. Not just that, but his ability to observe and put his observations in evocative writing makes those places come alive such that one can not just see, but smell, hear, and feel the reality of each destination.

This particular book is set in the Salinas Valley, near the real-life town of Soledad. For those who do not know California, our mountains and valleys in the central part of the state run north and south. At the very edge of the Pacific Ocean, you can find State Highway 1, instantly recognizable in photographs, songs, and books such as Big Sur by Jack Kerouac. In the dead center of the state, you find Interstate 5, my hometown of Bakersfield, and probably the most fertile agricultural area in the world. But in between is sandwiched the Salinas Valley and US Highway 101. The valley itself runs from just north of San Luis Obispo up to its outlet near Monterey. The 101 forms a significant portion of the El Camino Real, the “Royal Road” connecting the California missions. The town of Soledad contains one of these missions, and the others are located either on the Salinas River or on tributaries. 

 Mission San Miguel Archangel - about 60 miles south of Soledad

Also in the Salinas Valley.

I have driven this route many times, and it is beautiful in its way. The valley is itself a fertile place. Most of the fresh lettuce consumed in the United States is grown here. (Seriously, check your bagged salad. Chances are it came from California, and if it is summer, it was grown in the Salinas Valley somewhere.)

The valley - and Soledad - also lies directly west of Pinnacles National Park, one of my favorite places. (You can read about some of our adventures there, with pictures of the endangered California Condor, on my National Parks page.) 

Anyway, that is the setting, and it is as memorable and familiar as the other California settings in the Steinbeck novels I have read. (The Grapes of Wrath was set in part in Kern County, near where I live. Some of the places were very real, and still exist. Cannery Row has become a bit touristy since Cannery Row was written, but Doc’s lab is still there, and the ruins of the canneries. It’s worth a visit.)

Of Mice and Men is a short novel, only six chapters long. It almost feels like a play, with the classical unities largely observed. While it takes place over a couple of days (thus bending one rule), it is set in one place, and follows one action only. Steinbeck actually wrote it as a “novel-play” in three acts, and it certainly reads that way. Rich and illuminating dialogue is present throughout, and what the characters say is equally important to what they do.

George and Lennie have recently arrived near Soledad to look for work at a ranch. Lennie is a giant of a man, but developmentally disabled. He has the mentality of a small child, which, when combined with his size and strength, makes for disaster. George is a friend who promised Lennie’s aunt that he would look after Lennie. The two travel together, which puzzles those they meet, but, as George notes, it is better than being alone.

Loneliness is the central theme of the book. Even the setting, “Soledad,” bears this out. With the exception of George and Lennie, every other character is somehow alone. Candy has a maimed hand which he knows will eventually prevent him from being able to work, and his old dog has had to be put down. Crooks, the African American character, must sleep by himself in the stable because of his race. Slim is smarter than the other ranch hands, so he is respected, but cannot be treated as a companion. Curley, the boss’s son, is an abusive jerk with a Napoleon complex, and his constant jealousy and rage alienates everyone else. Curley’s wife (who never gets a name) is miserable in her marriage, and cannot even talk to anyone else without him blowing up at her.

And even George and Lennie suffer from this. George feels Lennie is a burden - and he most certainly is. Lennie cannot truly communicate with anyone else because of his mental challenges.

From the very beginning, it is obvious that this story will not end pleasantly. George and Lennie are on the run because Lennie grabbed a woman’s dress to pet the pretty and soft fabric, and when she protested, he panicked and wouldn’t let go. He was accused of attempted rape (naturally considering his actions if the intent wasn’t understood), and the two of them had to flee. Everything Lennie touches goes bad. He wants so very much to have a pet, but he is too rough and ends up killing them due to his great strength. In this respect, he is like any of our small children who have tried to keep, say, insects, worms, or snails as “pets” and has handled them to death. This is Lennie - but with the strength to kill anything from a human on down.

And so, we know that George’s grand plan to save enough money to buy a little ranch, and work for his own profit rather than that of his boss, will be thwarted by Lennie in the end. Lennie, who wants nothing so much as to raise rabbits and live in peace. The best laid schemes of mice and men…

Steinbeck, for good measure, starts the book with a mouse and a man. Lennie, and a mouse he has caught, and accidentally killed, but still keeps in his pocket to pet, until George makes him discard it. Both, perhaps, alike in their simple schemes, but the victims of a fate that they cannot escape.

Other common Steinbeck themes appear in this book: the hatred of oppression by those in power, the affection for the “common man,” and the palpable frustration at the way people manage to screw up. The good-hearted yet feckless man is ever-present in Steinbeck, and his ability to make the reader feel sympathy even while appalled at the ludicrously bad decision-making is unparalleled. Just like the landscapes, Steinbeck’s characters feel real. You can smell and taste, hear and see and feel how they are. And Steinbeck does it in so few words too. Within a couple of paragraphs, I could smell the sharpness of the chaparral and the river-bottom trees - these are things I have lived. But I could also feel George and Lennie within a few minutes of meeting them. The relationship, in all its tension and connectedness was there from the first few words.

It is this writing that makes Steinbeck’s catastrophic endings so powerful. The drama that unfolds involves “real” people, more real even than those strangers we see as we pass in our real lives. We want so badly for Lennie to get his rabbits, to finally do something right. We feel George’s pain as he works so very hard to coach Lennie to do what he does best - work hard - and not do things which will cause inadvertent harm to others. And at the very end, when only Slim can understand what George had to do and why, the two of them walk off together, leaving Carlson - who will never understand the need for connection - saying the final, devastating line, “Now what the hell ya suppose is eatin’ them two guys?”

I didn’t entirely “get” Steinbeck when I was in high school - some things are wasted on the young, who haven’t entirely grasped the beauty of tragedy. But I keep returning to him these days, because the writing is so exceptional, and because his themes and perception of humanity on the fringes have come to mean more to me as I have matured. This most Californian of authors also grasps the essence of the Golden State, the fertility of its fields cultivated by the powerless, the endless dreams of a better life, of the gold at the end of the rainbow, but also the difference that a dream and human connection can make. Of Mice and Men is one of his darker books, with little to suggest optimism. Others celebrate the decency and generosity of humankind, or the power of dreams. Thus, the ghost of Tom Joad (to borrow from Springsteen) can live on to inspire Cesar Chavez, and Doc’s goodness can inspire love and remind us of the reality of friendship and connection even when the results are farcical.

Cannery Row by John Steinbeck

Source of book: I own this

Another entry in my series of books I should have read in High School. I read The Grapes of Wrath several years ago, after reading some excerpts in 11^th grade. (See note below for further information on The Grapes of Wrath)

Two things have, in my opinion, caused Steinbeck to become a controversial writer. First, he wears his heart on his sleeve a bit too much for modern tastes. In this, he is a throwback to Victorian times, despite that his writing generally tends toward the realistic style. Second, his underlying socialist philosophy caused him to be rejected by the political right despite his merits, and embraced by the left, despite his defects. And then, there was the allegedly obscene scene at the end of The Grapes of Wrath.

Sadly, all this drama obscures the fact that Steinbeck was an excellent writer. His talents are displayed particularly well in Cannery Row.

This work might loosely be described as historical fiction. The characters are a mix of real and imagined, although the exact events are fiction. Cannery Row was a real place in Monterey, California. Amanda and I spent a portion of our honeymoon in the area, and walked along the waterfront between the decaying foundations of the old canneries and the weed filled vacant lots that seem to have changed little in the 60 years since the book was written.

The central character in Cannery Row is “Doc”, who is based on Steinbeck’s real-life friend, the marine biologist Ed Ricketts. Doc’s laboratory was located exactly where it is described in this book – and in fact still exists. Ricketts was a significant figure in his field, and has no fewer than 15 species of marine life named after him. He was killed when his car was struck by a train. (Oddly, this was also the cause of death for James Weldon Johnson – the subject of one of my posts from last year.)

Cannery Row is more of a novella than a full length novel; and yet, it is perhaps not exactly that either. I would describe it as a collection of vignettes set in a single locale and involving a set of characters, but with only a loose narrative arc connecting them. There is Doc, of course; and Lee Chong, the Chinese grocer; Dora Flood, proprietor of the whorehouse; and Mack, the leader of a group of bums. These characters, rather than a detailed plot, drive the narrative.

The opening prelude (which is not numbered as a chapter) is one of the single best descriptions in any book I have read. Not only does it set the stage for the story to follow, but it captures the setting and mood beautifully. Too often, an author will make a beautiful description; but it will turn out to have little if anything to do with what follows. Steinbeck’s descriptions are simple, short, and intimately connected to the characters and the events that follow. Like Hemmingway, he is able to use a minimum of words for a maximum of impact.

Those unfamiliar with Steinbeck might first notice his pessimism. This is not the despair shown by some authors, but it is very much in line with the writing style of his time. Representative is an extended description of the heartless food chain in the tide pool ecosystem. Animals hunt, kill and eat each other, and then, “A wave breaks over the barrier, and churns the glassy water for a moment and mixes bubbles into the pool, and then it clears and is tranquil, lovely and murderous again.”

Another line that struck me in that chapter concerns the character Hazel, whose mother was exhausted after seven children in eight years and was careless about his sex. She named him after an aunt rumored to have some money, and never bothered to correct the mistake. “Hazel grew up – did four years in grammar school, four years in reform school, and didn’t learn anything either place. Reform schools are supposed to teach viciousness and criminality but Hazel didn’t pay enough attention.”

I loved the aside on Model T Fords, although it is too long to quote. (It also contains a reference to female anatomy that some might not find quite as amusing as I did.)

Steinbeck also captured a grain of truth in a discussion about whether people will believe a true explanation. Doc gives up trying to explain his love of knowledge and exploration because others look at him suspiciously. Instead, he makes up ludicrous stories that are somehow easily believed. This is true even on the subject of why Doc has a beard.

“A man with beard was always a little suspect anyway. You couldn’t say you wore a beard because you liked a beard. People didn’t like you for telling the truth. You had to say you had a scar so you couldn’t shave.”

The center of the plot, such as it is, is the contrast of two parties that Mack and his friends attempt to throw for Doc. The first is an unmitigated disaster, although it is quite amusing. The second, is, well, a mitigated disaster. As Steinbeck says, “The nature of parties has been imperfectly studied. It is, however, generally understood that a party has a pathology, that it is a kind of individual and that it is likely to be a very perverse individual. And it is also generally understood that a party hardly ever goes the way it is planned or intended. This last, of course, excludes those dismal slave parties, whipped and controlled and dominated, given by ogreish professional hostesses. These are not parties at all but acts and demonstrations, about as spontaneous as peristalsis and as interesting as its end product.”

I would say that this book is a better introduction to Steinbeck than The Grapes of Wrath. For all the merits of that book, it has been tainted by its tendency to be preachy and by the controversy that surrounds it. Cannery Row is both more fun and more natural. Steinbeck simply tells a story, or a series of stories, without trying too hard to be about something.

 One of the old canneries.

 Modern Cannery Row. In this section, some of the old canneries have been converted into tourist shops. 

 On the north end, only remnants of the canneries remain, and the weeds grow in the empty lots. 

Ed Ricketts' old laboratory still exists.

Note on The Grapes of Wrath:

Since I live in the area of California’s central valley described in that book, it would be interesting to explore those issues in a future blog. Nationwide, the book was controversial due to the nudity in the last scene – surely the least sexy use of nudity possible – but apparently librarians in the 1940s didn’t get out much. Here in Bakersfield, the controversy was over Steinbeck’s lack of accuracy in the facts presented. He changed a few things to make the story more dramatic – changes that did not reflect well on the situation here in Kern County. My wife went to an event at the site of one of the old labor camps specifically described by Steinbeck, and interviewed nine of those who lived through the dust bowl days for a college term paper. Interestingly, those who were migrant laborers confirmed that Steinbeck changed details to better suit his narrative and his socialist philosophy. Perhaps I can talk Amanda into rewriting her paper as a guest blog post.