Rollicking fun with delightful characters and side story backgrounds. Debauchery, fraternity, whatever you want to call it. Remarkable world creation in less than 200 pages

Maybe more like 3.5 stars

I don’t know how Steinbeck does it. I was initially bored and even mildly annoyed, but somehow over the course of several chapters I began to care about this motley passel of feckless layabouts. Quite a feat really. And the ending is somehow perfect.

Like most of Steinbeck's work, this was one poetic punch in the gut. Loved everything about it.

DNF @ 25%

Can’t say I’m particularly interested in reading a book with three main characters who are just racist caricatures.

This novel could easily be a set of short stories, a morality tale (or immorality!), a retelling of the Arthurian legends or a retelling of the gospels with a very alternative last supper!
Danny and his friends (all paisanos) spend their time looking for food, wine, shelter and women and this is pretty much all they need in life to be content. Getting hold of wine is a thread through the book and its role is important; sharing your wine is true friendship and there are some excellent quotes
"Two gallons is a great deal of wine, even for two paisanos. Spiritually the jugs may be 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 first jug, general and undirected sadness. Shoulder of the second jug, black, unholy despondency. Two fingers down, a song of death and longing. A thumb, every other song one knows. The graduations stop here, for the trail splits and there is no certainty. From this point on, anything can happen."
Steinbeck has been accused of recism and stereotyping. I can understand why and the book is of its time. Howeverthere is no real malice in the portrayal of Danny and his firends. I was strongly reminded of a group of friends I had when I finished university in 1981. I was living in bedsit land as were we all and our lives revolved for a short time around food, drink, interesting liaisons (more detail on application!!) and arguing about life. The bonds were loose and people drifted in and out, but there was the same sense in the group as I found in Tortilla Flat.
Ultimately friendship and wine do mean more than money. I know this isn't a substantial or important work but I loved it and its themes are universal.

I went to Monterey recently (on my honeymoon, as it happens) and was utterly charmed by the place. A quirky and picturesque seaside town nestled on the coast of California, which manages to be touristy without being tacky, historic while still embracing the modern, and sleepy even when recognising the cosmopolitan. Also, it does damn good clam chowder. Having gone there and somewhat fallen in love with the place, how could I then resist the writings of its most famous son? Particularly when that favourite son is actually writing about Monterey.

Danny and his friends are paisanos – literally, ‘countrymen’ – who live to drink and carouse in the hills about Monterey. On the death of his grandfather, Danny inherits two houses and his friends move in with him and life takes on a pattern of camaraderie, easy-going adventures and above all the quest for wine.

Clearly these low-rent Arthurian adventures are there to charm, and one would have to have a hard heart not to feel the charm bubbling from every sentence. These are colourful characters, they have colourful experiences and they live in colourful times. One could almost wish to live a life where no work is done and the only thing that mattered is the next drop of wine. On the charm front, on the colour front, Steinbeck excels himself as a writer. But it’s hard to really warm to these characters. I like a drink myself, but these guys are alcoholics at the low functioning end of the spectrum and to read of them in such romantic terms just feels a bit jarring. Their hunt for wine can be charming, amusing, thrilling in a gentle kind of way – but it frequently leads them to crime and the screwing over not only other people, but each other. Any crime is dismissed with a shrug, as there are no real victims and wine is important and if they do anything really bad they feel remorse. But that ongoing recklessness of their lives does become a tad unremitting even with a surfeit of Steinbeck charm.

In a way this felt like a load of Damon Runyon stories stitched together, but in a more laid-back setting. And much like the Runyon stories, they’re good people to see from a distance but one wouldn’t want to hang around them for too long.

It was dead nice to revisit Monterey though. Ah, the memories….

”There is a changeless quality about Monterey. Nearly every day in the morning the sun shines in the windows on the west side of the streets; and, in the afternoons, on the east side of the streets. Every day the red bus clangs back and for between Monterey and Pacific Grove. Every day the canneries send a stink of reducing fish into the air. Every afternoon the wind blows in from the bay and sways the pines on the hills. The rock fisherman sit on the rocks holding their poles, and their faces are graven with patience and with cynicism.”

The cannery is now the world’s best aquarium, but you get the picture.

Non il mio preferito di Steinbeck.
Dopo la pubblicazione, il romanzo ricevette qualche critica un po' snob, alla quale pare che Steinbeck abbia risposto così (fonte wiki):

«Ho scritto queste storie perché sono storie vere e perché mi piacevano. Ma le sentinelle della letteratura hanno considerato i miei personaggi con la stupidità delle duchesse che si divertono coi contadini e li compiangono. Queste storie sono pubblicate ed io non le posso più riprendere, ma non sottometterò più al contatto degradante della gente perbene questi bravi esseri fatti di allegria e di bontà, di cortesia ben superiore a tutte le smancerie. Se ho causato loro dei torti raccontando qualcosa delle loro storie, me ne dispiace. Ciò non avverrà più. Adios, monte!»

In effetti, non ho nulla contro le storie (che siano vere o meno poco importa) di "bravi esseri fatti di allegria". Ciò che mi ha lasciato perplesso è la ripetitività delle vicende; inoltre, il romanzo sa di già letto: sembra un rifacimento della Saga di Gösta Berling in salsa messicana. Il romanzo di Selma Lagerlöf è stato pubblicato nel 1891, racconta le vicende di un pastore ubriacone e della sua ganga; non che mi avesse entusiasmato, però mi era sembrato più fresco, probabilmente perché leggevo per la prima volta qualcosa di simile.

Pazienza; comunque, il mio amore idolatra per Steinbeck rimane immutato.

Tales of the tall variety about a silly gang of friends whose boy's club antics remind one at times of "The Three Stooges" or "Last of the Summer Wine" as they cast about in search of adventure and drink, spinning their own unbelievable yarns while getting drunk, and philosophizing with wild abandon - be damned the passing of the day! Hell, there's even Yogi Bear-ish picnic basket pinching scene!

Nonsense, it's all nonsense! Or is it? I seem to recall something quite profound was said somewhere in there amongst the inane, convoluted logic and self-serving prattle...maybe it was the wine talking?

Steinbeck dips back into the well of central-coast California, planting gypsy-esque Spaniard immigrants in a fictional town near Monterey called Tortilla Flat, a town and people so colorful he almost runs out of paint while doing their portraits.

But no, Steinbeck's brush stays charged through out. He layers it on, at times too thick for seriousness. Thank goodness Tortilla Flat seldom gets too serious. Certainly there are solemn moments: a death, a beating, friendships tested. Occasionally these moments threaten to collapse the whole buoyant structure. Perhaps a scene or two is too morbid for this otherwise laugh-riot. Oh, pass the jug of wine and don't let it trouble you!

Макар тази книга да е доста далеч от обичайните ми четива, имаше нещо в нея, което ми хареса. Донякъде с нейната простота, донякъде с наивността на героите, донякъде с глупостта на героите, но в крайна сметка мога да заключа, че е хубава книга.
Слушах я в Сторител и прочитът беше много добър. Героите така са описани, че са като деца без родителски контрол, които постъпват глупаво, но винаги се водят от добро чувство и от това да помогнат на приятелите си. Това е книга за приятелството, най-чистото и сърдечно приятелство - без уговорки, без очаквания, просто да си до човека, който разчита на теб.
И... много вино! Олеееее, колко много вино се изпи в тази книга!?!
Дани и неговите приятели може да нямаха нищо освен покрив над главата, но имаха постоянно вино... в големи количества. Те живееха заради това вино! Всеки спечелен петак отиваше за вино - за себе си и най-добрия приятел.
Наистина човек изпада в умиление от постъпките на героите в тази книга, умиление - към приятелството и виното!

A time to weep, and a time to laugh (Ecclesiastes 3:4)

In Tortilla Flat (1935), John Steinbeck (1902-1968) blended Arthurian fables and poignant parables, alternating plot-driven chapters and philosophical inter-chapters. Gradually, related short stories evolve into an engaging novel. In a series of revealing vignettes, well composed chapters move the tragicomic story of Danny, a reluctant home owner, and his errant friends forward as episodic moral lessons offer glimpses of the American experience from the unconventional perspectives of characters striving to find meaning in everyday life.

This was a fun read. I can see where some might be rubbed the wrong way by Tortilla Flat due to the political incorrectness of the time when it was written but most of the shenanigans come across to me as innocent and harmless and the main characters to me seem to be colored positively, as likable knuckleheads. Oh, and one character, the Pirate, had a pack of five obedient, loyal, and lovable dogs named Enrique (houndish), Pajarito (brown and curly), Rudolph ("an American dog"), Fluff (a Pug), and Señor Alec Thompson (!) (an Airedale).

Like other Steinbeck that I've read, the words flow smoothly. He can make you laugh and then put a lump in your throat in the next sentence. The first paragraph lays out the plot: "This is story of Danny and of Danny's friends and of Danny's house", and "when you speak of Danny's house you are understood to mean a unit from which came sweetness and joy, philanthropy and, in the end, a mystic sorrow." And of course, the Round Table is mentioned early on, the connection to which becomes evident as you read along.

My advice: buy a gallon of wine from Torrelli (wink), snuggle in with your best pooch and dig in to this short novel.

This book is a classic through and through. The language is dated and there are some situations that are very suspect if taken in context of the world today but I love reading old novels like this to see how much the world has progressed, both for the better and the worse. Oh how I long to live as Danny and his friends do, carefree and without having to worry about bills, work, or any of our modern-day responsibilities. Despite some of the less-than-savory actions of the main characters, the whole community seems to accept and care for them. And by the end I did too