This early Steinbeck novel has the signature style that eventually made him one of the greatest writers of all time, but it never quite moved me like all his later works. I think the flaws have to do with he fact that the characters are unable to develop beyond caricature. We understand the “type” of people we’re dealing with, but we never really believe in them. Probably still a 4-Star book, but a bit of a disappointment when you put it up against all of Steinbeck’s other classics.

Part way through Tortilla Flat, I commented to a friend that I found it odd that Steinbeck was writing about a group of homeless veterans and he never directly addresses either their war experience or the difficulty adjusting to civilian life. Now that I've finished it, (don't worry, this is not a spoiler) I think I was wrong. Maybe when it was first published in 1935 people didn't directly address such things anyway. These are WWI vets. "Shell Shocked" was a new concept and not necessarily a commonly applied one- especially to poor Mexican-Americans in Northern California. Steinbeck DOES wrap up Tortilla Flat sentimentally. He brings it full circle and reveals both the importance to his community of and the monumental difficulties and struggles of his central character, Danny.

In between, Steinbeck has a whole lot of fun. At times reading Tortilla Flat is like watching episodes of The Little Rascals, only they're young men instead of little kids.

Like Steinbeck does in other books, like the Grapes of Wrath, he opens a community to us that may be completely foreign to us, both culturally and socio-economically, without making any kind of moral judgement on his character's way of life. Because he's able to do this objectively and yet brings us into their lives, as equals, confidants, and cohorts, we can enjoy them and come to care for them, in spite of the fact that we'd probably never make the same kinds of choices they do.

The "Paisanos" (country people, "red-necks") of Monterey's barrio neighborhood, Tortilla Flat are simultaneously full of honor and mischief, dignity, innocence, and plenty of sin.

Maybe guys will be better able to appreciate the adolescent camaraderie shared by the occupants of Danny's house, but if women give it a chance and consider how they form a surrogate family for each other, I think that they may gain an insight into the fraternal nature of men of college/military age and the difficult transition from that "coming of age" time and the actual, real responsible adulthood that usually comes after.

First and foremost – I really like Steinbeck. 'Of mice and men' is simply fantastic and 'grapes of wrath' is one of the best books I ever read. I did not like Tortillia Flat.

Firstly I found the plot dull and the characters unlovable. I didn’t find them funny, clever og inspiring in any way and the book isn’t really anything but these characters.

Secondly the book is drenched in rape-culture. I know the times and the view of women were different back then but throughout the book rape and attempted rape is portrayed as a fun and acceptable spare time activity if you’re a bit on the edge of society. One time Steinbeck compares rape to the nighttime milking of the neighbor’s goat.(yeah, really!) I don’t find rapes very funny or charming and hence did not find this book very appealing.

one wonders if one could do away with ambition and computers and bookface and tivo and truly be happy living day to day, sleeping in a hollow log, stealing one's dinner from pumpkin patches and bean fields, trading a day's work for a jug of cheapo wine or a roll in the hay with a whore-with-a-heart-of-gold... of course, had steinbeck truly lived the life of the paisanos in his novel, he never could've written it! well, possibly written. never published. therein lies the argument for capitalism as the best of the worst, eh?

this is one of those books, incidentally, in which characters tear through gallons of wine per drinking session. did people have higher tolerances back then? or did authors simply romanticize being drunk more?

oh. and it's also one of those books in which 'jew' is used as a verb.

Wine, food, friendship, and women (in that order) that's all paisanos need apparently. We follow a group of friends as they spend their days drinking wine and getting drunk, stealing in order to buy wine to get drunk, working (if they can't steal) to buy more wine and get drunk, seducing women who have wine to share so they can get drunk, or treasure hunting so they can buy wine too, big surprise, get drunk again. If you haven't put it together yet it's basically a story about friends who get drunk, steal, womanize, and tell somewhat humorous stories once and awhile. It's no Grapes Of Wrath or East Of Eden. It really wasn't that enjoyable. The meandering plot and the anticlimactic casual ending (although fitting for a drunk) just didn't do it for me.

4 e 1/2.
Protagonisti ubriaconi, nullafacenti, amorali, ladri, rozzi, il lavoro mai nella vita... e al contempo meravigliosi, nobili quando nobili bisogna essere. E anche quando sono criminali, non puoi che amarli in quanto tali. Ho perso il conto dei galloni di vino consumati e degli espedienti adoperati per procurarseli. Uno dei libri più divertenti mai letti, di una comicità semplicemente geniale, che ti smuove qualcosa dentro, e ti riscalda un po’.

On the whole this book feels mean-spirited, as if Steinbeck is inviting the reader to laugh at this bunch of alcoholic characters and the way of thinking and living that keeps them trapped in extreme poverty.

The author's introduction points to the Robin Hood's merry men and Camelot's round table as inspirations, but his attempts to tell a truer-to-life story leaves out most of the ennobling qualities and honorable intentions that characterize that material. A fine idea for a book, but only half-executed. If perhaps Steinbeck meant Tortilla Flat to be read as a negative or satirical commentary on those legends, he needed more connective tissue; if he wanted the story to stand on its own, he needed a counter-theme to drunkenness and destructive co-dependence.

Sadly, this book seems more likely to encourage classism or racism than empathy.

Much has been said about Steinbeck's apparent portrayal of Mexican Americans as lazy, amoral drunkards in Tortilla Flat. Some say Steinbeck was racist; some say he was just a product of his time. Which is right I do not know; Steinbeck may very well have been racist (he also uses "jew" as a slur and in several of his books uses unflattering stereotypes of Chinese people). I know nothing of the man's personal beliefs about race and it is a common fallacy to suppose an author always agrees with his narrator. But Steinbeck was certainly a product of his time. Which begs the question: can racism be excused if it's just a product of its time? Was it appropriate for Al Jolson to put on blackface makeup and sing "Mammy" because it wasn't politically incorrect back then? Was Twain's depiction of Jim no more than a minstrel show in print? And can we, as products or our time, truly judge these things with an unbiased eye?

Perhaps being "a product of his time" means something else. Perhaps Steinbeck's characterization of these paisanos as layabout drunks had nothing to do with their race and everything to do with the time and area in which they lived. Prohibition and the Great Depression made loafing lushes out of men of all races, colors, and creeds. Wine was verboten, so men wanted it all the more. Jobs were hard to come by, so eventually men stopped trying. This is the impression I got from reading this book: not that the paisanos were lazy, drunk, amoral, and poor because they were Mexican, but because in 1935 they didn't have anything else to do.

“Two gallons is a great deal of wine, even for two paisanos. Spiritually the jugs maybe graduated thus: Just below the shoulder of the first bottle, serious and concentrated conversation. Two inches farther down, sweetly sad memory. Three inches more, thoughts of old and satisfactory loves. An inch, thoughts of bitter loves. Bottom of the first jug, general and undirected sadness. Shoulder of the second jug, black, unholy despondency. Two fingers down, a song of death or longing. A thumb, every other song each one knows. The graduations stop here, for the trail splits and there is no certainty. From this point anything can happen.”

“Pilon complained, "It is not a good story. There are too many meanings and too many lessons in it. Some of those lessons are opposite. There is not a story to take into your head. It proves nothing."
"I like it," said Pablo. "I like it because it hasn't any meaning you can see, and still it does seem to mean something, I can't tell what.”

My friend George called to say he had discovered his musty copy of this and Cannery Row in a cardboard box and sat right down to read it. He encouraged me to do the same. Now, did. I have also recently reread Of Mice and Men, a work I much love, and thought it would be good to re-read a few of his central (socialist) books about human solidarity (Cannery Row, Sweet Thursday, Of Mice and Men, Grapes of Wrath), because: Still, The Planet. These books focus on communitarian ideals versus the rugged individualist spirit of thousands of American books (I just happen to be thinking of Hemingway in The Sun Also Rises, or even Sherwood Anderson’s Winesburg, Ohio, all these isolated, alienated people). The importance of interdependence is central in Steinbeck.

Tortilla Flat is an early, short Steinbeck, seventeen vignettes, a kind of picaresque comic adventure story, a pretty romanticized depiction of a group of paisanos (mixed race) in the poor area of Monterey (CA), seen through a (King) Arthurian framework. Danny is Arthur and the Roundtable of Knights he cobbles together are a bunch of lovely underclass, rag-tag misfits who drink a lot, but also do Good Deeds (for Teresina, a single mom of 9 who has no food; for another who made a pledge to buy a golden candlestick for the church because he had prayed and his dog miraculously survived: A miracle. They save quarters til they can buy it).

“They did not awaken quickly, nor fling about nor shock their systems with any sudden movement. No, they arose from slumber as gently as a soap bubble floats out from its pipe. Down into the gulch they trudged, still only half awake. Gradually their wills coagulated. They built a fire and boiled some tea and drank it from the fruit jars, and at last they settled in the sun on the front porch. The flaming flies made halos about their heads. Life took shape about them, the shape of yesterday and of tomorrow. Discussion began slowly, for each man treasured the little sleep he still possessed. From this time until well after noon, intellectual comradeship came into being. This was one of the best of times for the friends of Danny. Anyone having a good thing to tell saved it for recounting at this time. The big brown butterflies came to the rose and sat on the flowers and waved their wings slowly, as though they pumped honey out by wing power.”

You see there the solidarity of the poor, who don’t have jobs, or work when they can, and find ways to eat and drink wine. It’s a sweet, sentimental book honoring as he always did, the down-and-out, as did Orwell (Down and Out in London). A bit of Rabelais, too, as in making fun of the rich? Funny, warmly so, in many places. It relies too heavily on the Arthurian frame, and is an early book, but I really loved reading it, again. Maybe it presages a bit of On the Road romanticism, too. A book out of the Depression, a book of the times. And a book of solidarity with nature, too, a mystical healing force:

“Now Pilon knew it for a perfect night. A high fog covered the sky, and behind it, the moon shone so so that the forest was filled with a gauze-like light. There was none of the sharp outline we think of as reality. The tree trunks were not black columns of wood, but soft and unsubstantial shadows. The patches of brush were formless and shifting in the queer light. Ghosts could walk freely to-night, without fear of the disbelief of men; for this night was haunted, and it would be an insensitive man who did not know it.”

In this short novel, published in 1935, the author accomplished what he has consistently achieved, awakening emotion through lifelike characters. Written during the depression, it is no wonder Steinbeck’s destitute but optimistic characters appealed to the masses. Their appreciation of basic needs — with the occasional bottle of wine and a lusty woman thrown in — struck a chord with so many experiencing similar hardships.

Though criticized for a demeaning portrayal of Mexican-Americans, Steinbeck's depiction of camaraderie and an Arthurian parallel defends such negative evaluation. Embodying the simple disposition of Danny, the main character, and his vagabond disciples, Steinbeck's narrative is both powerful and moving.

Magic Square Challenge 2018 - #1 - A Book with a Food in the Title

A fable-like string of tales about a group of paisanos who are the cause of their own problems. It's both comical and tragic, often within the same situations - half the time I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I think this is the book that marks Steinbeck's bloom as a talented literary author.

Kai norimų perskaityti knygų sąrašas su kiekviena diena ilgėja ir jau net užsivedi antrą sąrašą išskirtinai prioritetinėms knygoms, iš kažkur išlenda niekur negirdėta nematyta knyga su juokingu pavadinimu apie valkatų pijokėlių gyvenimą. Ir dar parašyta Nobelio premijos laureato. Akivaizdu, kad ši knyga, kartu su vis didėjančiomis jos herojų gretomis, nesiteikė mandagiai laukti eilėje, įžūliai prasibrovė „tik paklausti“ ir užsibuvo...

Aš ją įsimylėjau dar net nepradėjusi skaityti. Tai knyga apie tikrą vyrišką draugystę, vyną ir moteris. Ir kiek čia daug progų šypsotis, juoktis, semtis tos vyno įkvėptos išminties, žavėtis komiškai herojiškais žygdarbiais ir nuoširdžiu paisanų geraširdiškumu. Patiko man ta meksikietiškų serialų dvasia, itin spalvingi veikėjų paveikslai ir meilė laisvei. Ir visgi kiek išradingumo atsiranda, kai pabundi kamuojamas troškulio, tada visai ne nuodėmė net draugo vieninteles kelnes išmainyti į vyną. Juk vis tiek po to jas iškart pavogsi ir didvyriškai grąžinsi draugui. Čia galioja sava vertybių sistema, savi įstatymai, bet žmogiškumas ir draugystė visada išlieka svarbiausia, na nebent reikia dalintis vynu... Viskas jums čia skamba ironiškai, bet net nedrįskite suabejoti šių vyriškių gerais norais: net jeigu ir baigėsi kažkas ne taip, bet jų ketinimai buvo tikrai tik patys geriausi!

Knyga manau turėtų patikti visiems minimalizmo ir zero waste filosofijos šalininkams: manau šita draugų kompanija geriausiai gali išmokyti, kaip atsisakyti visko, kas nereikalinga ir suktis tik su tuo, ko jau nebeišmainysi į galoną vyno. Kam reikalingos vyno taurės, kai yra stiklainiai, kam reikalingi laikrodžiai, kai yra saulė, kurios jau tikrai neišmainysi į vyną. Galiausiai ši istorija puikiai atskleidžia bet kokio didesnio turto neigiamą įtaką draugystei ir laisvei.

Jeigu perskaitę šią knygą užsimanysite vyno ir net jo nusipirksite, būkite budrūs – paisanai užuos ir nustatys iš jūsų eisenos, kad jau ir jų laukia smagi draugija ir puikus vakaras.

„Du galonai – daug vyno netgi dviem paisanams. Dvasine prasme tuos butelius galima sugraduoti taip: šiek tiek žemiau pirmojo butelio kakliuko – rimtas, orus pokalbis. Dar dviem coliais žemiau – prisiminimai, nuskaidrinti liūdesio. Dar trys coliai – atmintyje iškyla seni sėkmingi meilės romanai. Dar colis – mintys apie nenusisekusias meiles. Pirmojo butelio dugne visa apimantis ir neapibrėžtas liūdesys. Antrojo butelio kakliukas – juoda, žiauri neviltis. Dar per du pirštus žemiau – dainos apie mirtį ir ilgesį. Dar per nykštį – šiaip kokia nors daina, kokia tik atsimenama. Šioje vietoje skalė baigiasi, nes tai kryžkelė ir tolesnis kelias nežinomas. Nuo šiol gali atsitikti bet kas.“