Dear John,
There is no doubt in my mind that you are an excellent writer. And I am sure you know this. There is the Pulitzer and there is the Nobel. There are hundreds of editions worldwide and swarms of five star reviews.

“The Grapes of Wrath” is a book of great weight (literally and metaphorically). It’s epic and as timeless as the history which repeats itself with a stubborn regularity. There have always been changes and there have always been people left behind, people who found themselves outside the whatever brave new world which had no place for them. And there have always been people who didn’t want to know about them, who didn’t want to hear about them. John, I know you wrote this book for them, so that no one could feign ignorance. And I get it, John, your heart is in the right place.

You did all the right things. Those ever so gentle shifts in the patriarchal society? Brilliant. You know how to warm my feminist heart with the portrayal of Ma who takes the reins over from Pa. Although, are you trying to say it’s a good thing that women take over when the world has gone to dogs or that it is another symptom of the world going to dogs? I don’t know. Never mind. According to new goodreads review guidelines I can’t judge you as a person, so let’s leave it. Let’s talk about your writing. A chapter about a turtle crossing a road? How did you pull that off? It should be proverbially boring and yet, I read it with a bated breath. Will the turtle make it to the other side of the road? Or that last final scene? Worth the seven hundred pages it takes to get to it.
I grew to love the Joads, John, even though I know they’re just pawns in your game. But again, I forgive you because your intentions are good. You’re not calculating. You really do feel for all the Joads of the world and you want the world to feel it, too. You want us all to spare a thought for all the dispossessed of the world, those who loved earth and were one with it but they were forced to quit and abandon their land, to break that sacred bond and were replaced by soulless tractors and faceless banks and corporations.

You’re preaching to the choir, John. My heart is in the right place, too.

But you know what, John? And please, don’t take it the wrong way, I did love your book, but you weren’t subtle. I like my men subtle.

*Review contains a partial spoiler*

If you read enough reviews, you'll notice that most of the people who gave this book 1 or 2 stars had to read the book for a high school class. Most of the 4 and 5 star ratings came from those who read it as adults. I recommend listening to those who read it as adults.

Many people hate the ending, but I thought it was great. Creepy? Yes, but there was an immense amount of beauty and generosity in that creepy little ending. At one point in the story, Ma tol' Rosasharn that it ain't all about her (most high school kids think everything is all about them, which is probably one reason they couldn't enjoy this book or most other classics they are forced to read). Realizing this at the very end made Rosasharn crack her first smile in ages (at least that's my take on the mysterious smile). I wasn't disappointed in the lack of closure at the end, because the closure came in the middle when Ma said, "Rich fellas come up an' they die, an' their kids ain't no good an' they die out. But we keep a'comin'. We're the people that live. They can't wipe us out; they can't lick us. We'll go on forever, Pa, 'cause we're the people." So you know they will be fine whether life continues to be a struggle or not. They will be better off than the rich man with the million acres they talked about - "If he needs a million acres to make him feel rich, seems to me he needs it 'cause he feels awful poor inside hisself, and if he's poor in hisself, there ain't no million acres gonna make him feel rich, an' maybe he's disappointed that nothin' he can do'll make him feel rich." Another good quote is "I'm learnin' one thing good...If you're in trouble or hurt or need - go to the poor people. They're the only ones that'll help - the only ones." I saw a special on 20/20 around Christmas time about how the lower class are more generous overall than the middle and upper class, so this still applies today. Would anyone like my savings account? I think I'm going to give poverty a shot : )

If you are an American you need to read The Grapes of Wrath. It scares the poop out of me because, my fellow Americans, we are repeating history. If live anywhere else read it as well as a guide for what not to do.

In the Grapes of Wrath Mr. Steinbeck tells the tale of the first great depression through the Joad family from Oklahoma, who has been displaced from their family farm through no fault of their own. You see, there was a big bad drought which made farming impossible. In those days the family farm fed the family and what they had left over they sold. But when the drought hit the only thing that would grow was cotton, you can’t eat cotton, and that crop sucked the life right out of the soil so no other crop could grow in it for a very long time.

“These things were lost, and crops were reckoned in dollars, and land was valued by principal plus interest, and crops were bought and sold before they were planted. Then crop failure, drought, and flood were no longer little deaths within life, but simple losses of money. And all their love was thinned with money, and all their fierceness dribbled away in interest until they were no longer farmers at all, but little shopkeepers of crops, little manufacturers who must sell before they can make. Then those farmers who were not good shopkeepers lost their land to good shopkeepers. No matter how clever, how loving a man might be with earth and growing things, he could not survive if he were not also a good shopkeeper. And as time went on, the business men had the farms, and the farms grew larger, but there were fewer of them.”

Some guys with a lot of cash came along and bought up all the struggling family farms and leased the land back to the former family farmers and when they couldn’t produce, the new Owners kicked the families out of their homes. Put them on the streets, children and elderly and all……..who cares, right? Poor people are less than.

From California came hand bills, pamphlets promising jobs and urging the homeless to drag their whole lives via barely moving junk heaps to the golden state where grapes grew in bunches by the side of the road. What choice did they have? They drove across deserts and mountains, losing loved ones along the way, they answered those hand bills in droves. What else could they do?

What happened when they got to California? They didn’t get jobs, they got ridicule. They were called Okies and shitheals and were looked down upon. “How can they live like that?” The people with money would ask, as if being poor was a choice. As if they were just lazy and all it would take to get out of poverty was to get a job……but there were no fucking jobs. The owners sent out more handbills then they needed to. Why? Because the more men begging for a job the less the owners would have to pay them. Supply and demand. The greedy sons a bitches wanted to pay as little as possible, and that is exactly what they did. The Okies did not have a union of course.

“And the great owners, who must lose their land in an upheaval, the great owners with access to history, with eyes to read history and to know the great fact: when property accumulates in too few hands it is taken away. And that companion fact: when a majority of the people are hungry and cold they will take by force what they need. And the little screaming fact that sounds through all history: repression works only to strengthen and knit the repressed. The great owners ignored the three cries of history. The land fell into fewer hands, the number of the dispossessed increased, and every effort of the great owners was directed at repression. The money was spent for arms, for gas to protect the great holdings, and spies were sent to catch the murmuring of revolt so that it might be stamped out. The changing economy was ignored, plans for the change ignored; and only means to destroy revolt were considered, while the causes of revolt went on.”

Who are the “great owners” today? The Walton family (of Walmart), six of them, have the same amount of money as the bottom 40% of Americans. That is 124,720,000 people, people. $93 billion…..BILLION and they want more, more money than could be spent in several lifetimes. They don’t need it all, but the rest of America does. Do you think the Walton’s might have an interest in keeping people poor? Go check out who’s in that store at 3am.

Let’s also take a look at who is running against President Obama. Mittens is so rich that he doesn’t even know what a doughnut is, and he’s fighting for the Waltons and all of the 1 %. He’s so rich he thinks he is entitled to the office and “us people” do not need to see his tax returns……the nerve of us, move on. We need to sit down, shut up, and stop asking questions because he, being a rich bastard, is an “owner” and we should know our place. Not bloody likely.

“Our people are good people; our people are kind people. Pray God some day kind people won’t all be poor. Pray God some day a kid can eat.
And the associations of owners knew that some day the praying would stop.

And there’s the end.”


Also posted at Shelfinflicted

“Now Tom said, "Mom, wherever there's a cop beating a guy
Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries
Where there's a fight against the blood and hatred in the air
Look for me, Mom, I'll be there

Wherever somebody's fighting for a place to stand
Or a decent job or a helping hand
Wherever somebody's struggling to be free
Look in their eyes, Ma, and you'll see me"

And the highway is alive tonight
nobody's foolin' nobody as to where it goes
I'm sittin' down here in the campfire light
With the Ghost of Tom Joad”

from the song The Ghost of Tom Joad by Bruce Springsteen

This was a buddy read with Stepheny and Erin.

One thing Springsteen’s song proves is that not only the plight of the migrant worker hasn’t changed much but that the gulf between the haves and the have nots is as wide as ever.

Steinbeck set this book during the Great Depression, when poor tenant farmers were driven from their land by a combination of drought, dust storms and poor soil management. They headed to California in hope of a new life, instead their hardships multiplied.

Tom Joad, as played by Henry Fonda, is the face of John Ford’s excellent film version from 1940; however, Ma Joad is the heart and soul of the book. As the male characters give in to fear, rage and depression, Ma Joad tries desperately to hold her family together.

It’s easy to see why this is a revered classic. Steinbeck’s writing is brimming with tension, poignancy and some of the greatest characters in American literature. When I home schooled my son, this was one of his favorites and as a measure to its greatness, we still talk about it today, especially the quasi-mystical symbol-laden ending.

That’s the power of books and reading.

Un posto in cui stare

"E le stelle sono così vicine, e la tristezza e il piacere sono così intrecciati che sembrano la stessa cosa. Vorrei essere sempre sbronzo. Chi lo dice che è male? I predicatori - ma quelli si sbronzano alla loro maniera. Le zitelle acide - ma quelle sono troppo infelici per capire. I moralisti - ma quelli la vita la vedono troppo da lontano per capire."

"Ma questa terra è nostra. L'abbiamo misurata e l'abbiamo dissodata. Su questa terra siamo nati, su questa terra ci siamo fatti uccidere, su questa terra siamo morti. Anche se non serve più a niente, è ancora nostra. Ecco cosa la rende nostra: esserci nati, lavorarci, morirci. È questo a darcene il possesso, non un pezzo di carta con sopra dei numeri."

"Non era una preghiera da predicatore."
"Era una buona preghiera. Voglio che ne dice una pure per me."
"Non so che dire."
"Basta che la dice in silenzio. Non serve che ci mette le parole. Va bene uguale."
"Io non ho un Dio," disse il predicatore Casy.
"Un Dio ce l'ha. Non importa se non sa com'è fatto."

Scriveva Daniele Luttazzi, in risposta al giornalista Andrea Scanzi, che “la satira è arte, e lascia l’uditorio libero di decidere sul da farsi, mentre la propaganda partitica è marketing del potere, e ti dice per chi votare. Se fondi un partito, sei encomiabile: ma da quel momento non riuscirai più a fare satira. Satira e propaganda partitica sono inconciliabili”.
Questo breve estratto mi è utile per arricchire l’ottima introduzione di Luigi Sampietro, la cui presentazione inquadra Steinbeck come autore fondamentalmente populista e apolitico.
Non sono d’accordo sul fatto che Steinbeck sia un autore apolitico, perché la dimensione stessa del populismo dei suoi scritti - anche Uomini e topi è pervaso da questa narrazione, dal basso, della bassa manovalanza - porta l’autore a focalizzare l’attenzione sull’ingiustizia capillare che il sistema capitalistico perpetra, ogni giorno, in (quasi) tutti gli strati sociali.
L’opera, all’indomani della sua uscita, fu accostata a fantomatiche esaltazioni della comunità ebraica; e al contempo, dall’altra parte, fioccavano frecciatine su una possibile visione comunista, facilmente deducibile dall’odissea della famiglia Joad.
Eseguito un parallelismo personale tra satira e opera scritta in relazione a una ipotetica impronta politica, sento di assecondare l'asserzione di Luttazzi: un romanzo che si prefigge l’obiettivo di segnalare un problema o, semplicemente, testimoniare il tempo in cui viene scritto, può tranquillamente essere caratterizzato da una visione della società che valorizzi o tuteli una parte della stessa - quindi, in fin dei conti, trattasi di una visione politica perché volta a contestualizzare i bisogni e la volontà di qualcuno.
La strumentalizzazione per fini politici, come successe a suo tempo con Furore, svilisce la testimonianza e riduce l’opera a semplice appendice del potere.
Politica e propaganda partitica non sono la stessa cosa, ed è proprio su questa sottile differenza che libri come Furore, al netto di chiacchiericci sguaiati e tentativi goffi di ridimensionamento dei temi, approdano alla cerchia ristretta dei capolavori universali.
I contenuti dell’opera sono moderni perché sarà sempre eterna la necessità di tutelare e vegliare sulle persone che subiscono - senza possibilità di resistenza - la forza inesorabile del progresso e la prevaricazione del potere; un compito arduo che la stessa società, ricattata da forze economiche sfuggenti e governi costellati da politici ignoranti (quando va bene), non riesce a garantire.
In questa chiara e limpida necessità Furore nasce, si ritaglia una sua autonomia nell’incedere del tempo e cessa di morire.
Il titolo italiano semplifica l’originale Grapes of wrath, invero più calzante nel descrivere quel processo logorante che muove interi collettivi a nutrire tiepidi moti di speranza per costruirsi un futuro dignitoso e lasciare ai figli un motivo per essere al mondo.
Su questa citazione biblica, riferimenti di cui Furore è pregno da cima a fondo, l’opera costruisce la propria intelaiatura, nel cui centro spiccano tutte le sfumature acquisibili dal concetto di peccato.
Il peccato, nell’accezione più comune del termine, è qualcosa che travalica i dogmi imposti dalla religione, la cui autorità serpeggia con forza laddove istruzione e stimoli ulteriori latitano.
Il peccato può essere tanto ricondotto all’egoismo che porta l’individuo a preservare la propria famiglia quanto alla vergogna di non poter vedere nei propri occhi i figli quando giunge la sera; il peccato è pagare una colpa insanabile con l’espiazione della stessa tramite il sacrificio per chi può ancora salvarsi; il peccato è rendersi consapevoli di essere in una posizione agiata, e da quello scranno dorato cessare di ostentare la propria opulenza; forse il peccato è anche la possibilità ultima che viene abbracciata da una miriade di persone quando non hanno più nulla da perdere.
Furore è un canto ai vinti, la cui unica colpa è stata quella di sognare una vita da vivere.

The story tellers, gathering attention into their tales, spoke in great rhythms, spoke in great words because the tales were great, and the listeners became great through them.

n  Know what the preacher says? He says, ‘They’s wicketness in that camp.’ He says, ‘The poor is tryin’ to be rich.’n

The Grapes of Wrath is a truly great book. It does several things at once and it does them all well: history lesson, expose' of social ills, a darn good story filled with larger-than-life characters. And it's all crafted with Steinbeck's masterful ear for language, plain and earnest and true to life.

5 stars. In a rousing good read, Steinbeck captures the heroism inherent in everyday life as people rise to meet challenge after challenge with determination, grit, and no-nonsense practicality. In many ways it's perhaps the most "practical" novel I've come across, and it's wonderful for so many reasons. Steinbeck tackles big human conflicts like generosity and its ugly opposite, greed, and he does not shy from showing things as they really are and challenging us to think about the way we want them to be.

فکر میکردم بعد از "کافکا در کرانه" قرار نیست کتابی جذاب تر به عمرم بخونم، تا اینکه این به پیشنهاد یکی از دوستام خوندن این کتاب رو شروع کردم، فقط و فقط 30 صفحه کافی بود تا غرق بشم تو کتاب و حتی زمان هایی که یک دقیقه وقت آزاد داشتم کتاب رو دستم می گرفتم...!!

واقعا شاهکار، واقعا تاثیر گذار... به هیچ وجه نمی تونم توصیف کنم حسم رو از خوندن این کتاب...

تشکر می کنم از فرشاد عزیز ، که ریویو این دوست عزیزم منو بیشتر ترغیب کرد برای خوندن کتاب، تکه ای از ریویو فرشاد:

کتاب با هر سطرش روح ‌خواننده ‌رو‌به ‌درد میاره ..جاهایی از داستان قلب ادم واقعا به درد میاد .. عجیب نیست که خود نویسنده بعد از نوشتن این رمان مدتی دچار اختلال روحی میشه .. داستان روایت اوارگی یه خانواده پرجمعیت تووی شاهراه شماره ۶۶ هست و مصیبت هایی که یکی بعد از دیگری گریبان گیر این خانواده میشه .. شخصیت ها به راحتی اب خوردن حذف میشن .. و هر بار یه بهت سنگین فضای سیاه داستان رو‌در بر میگیره .. میتونم بگم دیگه محاله بتونم همچین‌داستان زیبایی بخونم .. مخصوصا پایان داستان .. بدون شک نقطه اوج داستان همون سه سطر انتهایی داستان هست .. اونقدر دردناک که انگار هیچ وقت قرار نیست از ذهن خارج بشه .. بهترین رمانی بود که تووی زندگیم خوندم ..

* به راستی که بهترین رمانی بود که تو زندگیم خوندم

E dire che mi avevano avvisato, e quindi non avrei dovuto restare così sorpreso del livello di questo libro. E invece quando ti scontri con narrazioni così potenti, con un talento nel conoscere e descrivere l'animo umano così alto, comunque ci rimani sorpreso.
E' una di quelle storie talmente ben scritte, talmente centrate nella scelta dell'intreccio e nella caratterizzazione dei personaggi che nonostante il passare del tempo (questo romanzo è del 1939, dopo la grande depressione e subito prima della guerra) restano sempre attuali.
Di che furore parla, il titolo? Una rabbia feroce che anche noi in questi mesi abbiamo imparato a conoscere molto bene: la rabbia dell'immigrato che la fame ha sradicato dalla sua terra, dalle sue radici, dalle abitudini e dai costumi a cui era abituato ed ha gettato su terre sconosciute ed ostili, in mezzo a persone che non lo vogliono e che spendono risorse a costruire muri ed a comprare armi anzichè per cercare di stare meglio tutti. L'argomento è quindi quello di sempre, immigrazione ed integrazione: calato questa volta nel grande esodo che caratterizzò gli USA degli anni trenta.
Milioni di uomini che dal Midwest si trasferirono in California, sfrattati e sradicati dalla meccanizzazione dell'agricoltura, divennero in poco tempo l'equivalente degli extracomunitari di oggi: massa alla ricerca del più precario e schiacciante dei lavori in c ambio di un pezzo di pane, alla mercè della stagionalità del clima e dei soprusi dei locali che andavano costruendo muri ed armandosi proprio in quel periodo; massa esacerbata dal non poter dare un volto al responsabile del suo crudele destino, massa che vede nascere dentro di sè l'odio rivoluzionario (che a Steinbeck ancora piace chiamare comunista, ma i tempi erano quelli), che si contrappone al feroce odio liberale tanto simile a quello legista di oggi, di chi non vuole scoprire davanti a questa gente che la loro ricchezza è illegittima e va nascondendosi dietro muri sempre più alti ed eserciti di guardie armate.
Intrecciata con l'evolversi sociopolitico della crisi americana, è la storia della famiglia Joad e soprattutto dell'ex galeotto Tom Joad, che sarà testimone dello sfasciarsi della sua famiglia del midwest ma anche del suo rinascere con un gesto di umanità pura, che non a caso prescinde totalmente dalla distruttrice logica liberale. La famiglia Joad entrerà a tal punto nell'immaginario culturale della nazione che Tom arriverà ad essere protagonista di un altro grande narratore di queste storie: Bruce Springsteen.
A chi legge "Furore" a decenni di distanza dalla sua scrittura, la storia appare innanzi tutto come una drammatica testimonianza del fallimento del marxismo. La rivoluzione comunista non è stata in grado di prevedere la spersonalizzazione del capitalista, ottenuta attraverso la nascita delle Società per Azioni ed il passaggio del potere economico alle banche. Non esiste più un uomo (o pochi) contro il quale opporsi e fare la rivoluzione, esiste un mostro senza volto e senza nome che si fà carico senza scomporsi di tutte le sofferenze che provoca ed al quale la classe media (dal soprastante dei campi all'agente di polizia, dal giudice che emette gli sfratti al conducente della trattrice che distrugge le case dei mezzadri) può imputare qualsiasi colpa lavandosi mani e coscienze.
Il marxismo non ha predetto che con la meccanizzazione dell' agricoltura il proletariato non sarebbe stato solo industriale ma anche agricolo. L'avvento delle trattrici a consentito ad un solo contadino arricchito di effettuare il lavoro di cinquanta mezzadri poveri. E gli altri quarantanove? Il marxismo non aveva predetto inoltre che la classe lavoratrice non sarebbe rimasta unita. L'uomo americano è talmente culturalmente imbevuto di becero liberalismo da non indirizzare il Furore contro il vero nemico. La lotta non è per abbattere il sistema liberale, ma per farne parte. Gli sfruttatori più crudeli non sono i finanzieri senza volto ma i soprastanti che hanno derogato ai valori del mondo contadino per farsi tiranni a loro volta a spese degli altri. Quante volte Gandhi, Mandela, Che Guevara e mille atri rivoluzionari hanno gridato alla lotta anche violenta contro i proletari che si vendono? Essi sono i primi strumenti del sistema ed il cardine su cui sopravvive.
Peraltro "dateci una guerra" implorano i contadini sfrattati. La grande verità è che il rivoluzionario del novecento non vuole abbattere il sistema. Vuole farne parte.
E oggi? Oggi siamo di fronte alla stessa grande migrazione di masse umane in fuga dalla miseria, sradicate dalla loro terra, dalle loro radici, dalla loro vita. E che sommano al furore dell'abbandono quello per il rifiuto di gente che non li vuole; persone che si nascondono dietro muri ed eserciti di mercenari per non dover riconoscere che la legittimità del loro benessere è messa in discussione, persone che si affrettano a vendersi al sistema come nuova classe media-strumento di dominio pur di sfuggire allo stesso destino. Passano i giorni ma il mondo non cambia.
In sintesi, "Furore" secondo me resta attuale perchè offre una chiave di lettura diversa dello scontro che sta avvenendo in medio oriente e, attraverso quello che chiamano terrorismo, nelle nostre case. Come puntualmente confermano Mohsin Hamid ( finanziere della city di origine pakistana) e Zygmunt Bauman, l'origine della crisi e dello scontro non è nè la guerra di religione (la più grande menzogna politica del nostro secolo, secondo me) nè la povertà (quelle terre sono sempre state povere, e peraltro le popolazioni del medio oriente non danno alla ricchezza materiale lo stesso valore che le diamo noi): come accadeva nel Midwest americano di Steinbeck, il Furore nasce dalla spersonalizzazione del nemico, dal radicale senso di vuoto che nasce quando alla miseria si unisce la perdita di valori e di tradizioni (attaccati e distrutti dal famelico mondo liberale che vuole imporre i propri dappertutto), dall'umiliazione del rifiuto di chi avrebbe dovuto capire, ed invece spende enormi masse di denaro (superiori a quelle necessarie per un aiuto decisivo) per ghettizzare, dividere, umiliare.
C'è un parallelismo molto forte tra i proprietari terrieri di quella California ed i leghisti della nostra Lombardia.
La amara risposta di John Steinbeck alla situazione americana si posa sulla capacità del proletario di saper restare uomo (ogni gesto umano del lavoratore è uno schiaffo al liberale che lo vuole ridotto a macchina di carne), si posa sulla speranza dell'avvento della rivoluzione socialista (ahi quanto mal riposta! Proprio in quegli anni, all'insaputa del mondo, Stalin portava sulla terra il Cocito, l'inferno della Kolyma).
E quale potrebbe e dovrebbe essere la nostra? Gli Stati Uniti di allora uscirono dal dramma grazie alla coraggiosa politica del New Deal ed in definitiva allo spessore di un politico come Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Ma questo non dissipa il dubbio che alla rinascita della classe lavoratrice americana abbia contribuito quell'immenso mercato che fu la Seconda Guerra Mondiale ("dateci una guerra!").
Oggi noi abbiamo la stessa guerra, per lo stesso scopo. Ma in aggiunta abbiamo l'odio religioso fomentato dalle destre di tutto il mondo, abbiamo la paura e l'odio del diverso che annacqua e svia il furore verso il finanziere senza volto che è il vero responsabile. E soprattutto rischiamo di avere Donaldo Trombetta al posto di FDR. Cosa ci resta da fare? Combattere in ogni modo il capitalismo finanziario che la fa da padrone, che ora come allora è il vero responsabile di tutto questo, leggere e riflettere il più possibile, ma più di ogni cosa, come Tom Joad e come sua sorella Rosa Tea, non scendere a compromessi col sistema e saper restare uomini. Sempre.

Very rarely do I start a book not really enjoying it and then finish it absolutely loving it. But that was my experience with The Grapes of Wrath, a seminal piece of American literature.

I never doubt Steinbeck, because he's truly a master of his craft and one of my favorite authors ever. However, the slow beginning of this story and the way it alternates chapters was difficult for me to really connect.

But as time goes on, the Joad family becomes like your own kin. I couldn't help but care deeply about them and their struggles. Steinbeck masterfully develops these characters over 450 pages and by the end you are left completely moved by their story.

Of course Steinbeck is a master of setting the scene. His descriptions of the landscape the Joads travel through, the houses and tent camps they live in, and all the characters they meet along the way--everything is so vividly portrayed on the page.

I'm so happy I finally read this one! That final chapter is something I won't stop thinking about for a long time and will likely never forget. The novel builds to a powerful conclusion that will leave you stunned and in awe of Steinbeck's skills.

That was depressing.

Isn't THE GRAPES OF WRATH just wonderful!!!!???? You've not read it??? Shit!!!! You don't know what you're missing!!!!!!!! If you've read it, then you will know exactly what I am talking about.

I have lived on, or close to old route 66 for over 20 years of my life. I love the history of THE MOTHER ROAD. However, believe it or not, it was only in the past few years that I finally read this book! I had read other Steinbeck,and loved it,and for some reason, after owning a copy of the book since the 1980's, I just never got around to reading it. One of my life's regrets. Once I plowed in, I did nothing, but read till I finished it.....totally spellbound! I love the story of the Joads, with chapters mixed in on life,and history on the highway. The way he describes everything just makes me feel like I was an Okie myself, living it, breathing it, I was on that truck!

After reading it for the very first time,and being totally blown away by the ending, I had to finally see the movie. However,after I finished that last page, for the very first time, I immediately turned back to the front of the book,and started reading it again, a 2nd time! Then ,not surprising to me, was the movie's ending is not at all like the book, but the movie is awesome as well. Nobody could have portrayed Tom Joad better then Henry Fonda. I have since read the book numerous times,and then we did it for our bookclub one month. I've rewatched the movie. I've traveled parts of the mother road. I can also recommend to you a fantastic history book on the history of Route 66. I've seen people at Ted Drews in St. Louis with copies of the history book clutched to their chests, because they are doing the route 66 vacation. I will ask them if they have been doing that type of vacation,and if they say yes, the next thing out of my mouth is... "Have you read THE GRAPES OF WRATH??" In most cases their response is yes. If it's no, I tell them they must rush to the nearest bookstore,and get a copy,and read it while on the road. I've had people ask me directions to the nearest bookstore so they can get a copy of the book.

I had to buy a 2nd copy of the book because my original copy is about in shreds. I can't bring myself to throw it away, because when my eyes first experienced this mouth watering, rebel rousing story, it was that copy of the book!!

There's also a book on the history of the novel,and how people in California burned it , if you'd like to know about that other book to read.

Take care! Thanks for putting up with my enthusiasm for a classic piece of literature , such as this!

Gary

Winner of the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1940 and cited by the Nobel Committee as a key factor in awarding John Steinbeck the Nobel Peace Prize in 1962, I must have been hiding the semester The Grapes of Wrath was assigned reading in high school. I finished the novel for the first time a few hours ago and have never felt as close to hurling a garbage can through a store window as I do now. Banks and fast food outlets in the Southern California area have been placed on alert.

I doubt that I can contribute anything new to a discussion of this novel, celebrating the 75th anniversary of its publication, but must recount the story so I won't forget it. Nobody who reads this book should forget what they've read.

The dedication reads "To CAROL who willed it. To TOM who lived it." Carol was Steinbeck's first wife who among other things, suggested the book's title, a lyric in "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" by Julia Ward Howe. Tom is Tom Joad, a young man not a day older than 30. He's introduced ambling along a highway in Oklahoma wearing a new suit and new shoes. Tom comes to a diner, and lies in wait on the running board of a truck for the driver to exit the diner.

The hitch-hiker stood up and looked across through the windows. "Could ya give me a lift, mister?"

The driver looked quickly back at the restaurant for a second. "Didn' you see the No Riders sticker on the win'shield?"

"Sure--I seen it. But sometimes a guy'll be a good guy even if some rich bastard makes him carry a sticker."

Using the truck driver's pride to back him into a corner, Tom gets a lift and his story quickly comes out: He's been paroled from prison after serving four years of a seven year sentence for striking and killing a man with a shovel in self defense during a fight. Tom is no criminal and he's no beggar. He has an unwavering sense of decency and justice but knows when to open his mouth and when to keep it shut. Prison life has gone a long way to making him a quick judge of character.

Walking through the blistering heat toward his family farm outside of Sallisaw, Tom encounters Jim Casy, the preacher who baptized Tom as a boy and who now appears to be a man without a flock. Casy has seen change sweep the country since Tom's been gone and in an attempt to make some sense of it, has taken to the road. Tom invites Casy to travel with him and arriving at what's left of his home, sees what has driven the preacher into the hills; the Joad house knocked off its foundation, land unkempt and family gone.

Steinbeck uses short chapters to illustrate how dust storms, crop failures and defaulted loans have driven families from their farms, replaced by a bulldozer which can can maintain the land for the bank at a cost. Sifting through the remains of the Joad place, Tom and Casy meet a neighbor named Muley Graves who informs them that the Joads have moved in with Tom's uncle John and are preparing to make the trek to California to search for work. Muley has sent his family away, but has no intention of joining them. He likens himself to a ghost, haunting the countryside, evading the law and surviving on land he refuses to be kicked out of.

Tom and Casy walk all next morning to arrive at the home of Uncle John, a widower who carries the death of his wife on his shoulders, trying to atone for his "sin" by showering his nieces and nephews with candy. Tom is reunited with his family. Ma Joad is the glue that holds everyone together. Pa Joad is a sharecropper who loses his confidence and cedes leadership of the family to his wife. Tom's oldest brother Noah is aloof and likely learning disabled. His 16-year-old brother Al is a ladies man whose automotive skill almost eclipses his brother's. His 18-year-old sister Rose of Sharon is pregnant with her first child by husband Connie--she has plans for Connie to study radio in California and buy her and their baby a house. Tom's 12-year-old sister Ruthie is snooty and a 10-year-old baby brother is named Winfield. Uncle John's house is so full that Grampa and Granma have chosen to sleep in the barn.

After opportunistic speculators rake Pa Joad over the coals, buying up tools and farm equipment for $18, the family has only $154 to for fuel, food and shelter on their journey. Handbills distributed around town have advertised work in California as fruit pickers, and Al has done his part by inspecting and purchasing an 'ornery old truck whose popular parts will be easier to find and replace on the road. Short of that, the Joads have no idea what's waiting them on Route 66, nowhere else to go if they fail to find work and no one to help them but each other.

This is the fifth Steinbeck novel I've read this year and might be his best. Steinbeck has quickly become one of my favorite authors and The Grapes of Wrath reminded me why: Sparse but sensual description. Vivid sense of place. A sage's wisdom and remarkable perspective; the book's moral center is never in question. And great dialogue. In this book, the regional patois does occasionally get in the way, but I didn't find it to be a road block.

Steinbeck has been quoted as saying about The Grapes of Wrath, "I've done my damndest to rip a reader's nerves to rags, I don't want him satisfied." This novel certainly knocked me down a flight of stairs.

It's hard to believe that only 80 years separate the events of this book from the U.S.A. of today. The technology I'm using to write this book review is more powerful than any tool the Joads had available to travel cross country, seek food, shelter and clothing and find a way to survive in a land that was hostile to their existence. They had no consumer credit. The ACLU and AFL/CIO were impotent. Cotton picking was a decent job and work as a mechanic was considered a great job. Throughout the book, the Joads are one wrong turn or stroke of bad luck away from being wiped out, psychologically, emotionally, physically.

Reading The Grapes of Wrath was like someone handing me a Molotov cocktail and lighting the rag stuffed in the bottleneck. Steinbeck does a craftsman's job avoiding political speech, but it's possible I feel that way because I agreed with most of what he has to say about the working class and basic human dignity. I don't think that Steinbeck is against capitalism, he's just not for it. Religion doesn't get a free pass either. These are both systems used to control people and in doing so, strip of that thing that makes them individuals.

Some die of sickness or age. Some die of loss of dignity. The more members of "the fambly" succumb to these and are lost, the angrier I felt myself growing. It was a good sort of anger that only great literature can provoke of me. The hatred, fear and ignorance Steinbeck takes a torch to are alive and well throughout the world when it comes to the debate over immigration today. Blaming your problems on people who can't defend themselves and are only trying to survive is so easy and so often misguided.

A hastily produced and gloriously rendered film adaptation was released in 1940 starring Henry Fonda as Tom Joad and John Carradine as Jim Casy. It won two Oscars, Best Director (John Ford) and Best Supporting Actress (Jane Darwell, as Ma Joad) and became a badge for producer Darryl F. Zanuck, co-founder of Twentieth Century-Fox, whose legacy would be built on the social issue pictures he shepherded at the studio, beginning with The Grapes of Wrath. Reading the source material, it's impossible not to see and hear Fonda as Tom Joad.