He came.
He saw.
He brought a poodle. Good boy, Charley.
n  n
Charley with Nobel Winning author John Steinbeck

If you are like me, you will recognize the impulse of wanderlust. John Steinbeck felt this too, opening his book Travels With Charley with a humorous reflection on how people always told him his wanderlust would be cured with old age but, at 58 when he set out with his dog, Charley, this hadn’t seemed to abate even a little. ‘Perhaps my greatest wisdom is the knowledge that I do not know,’ he writes, and so he sets off to see what he does not yet know of the land and the people in it. While the book is usually thought of as a travelog, Steinbeck’s thoughts and reflections on his journey through the ‘new America of the 1960’s becomes more an intimate portrait of the writer himself and his thoughts on loneliness, travel, the country in a state of change and, ultimately, himself. It is a lovely little book, full of Steinbeck’s signature charm and wit, and while it is a gaze at an era now gone, it is still a meaningful and beautifully introspective read.

‘I was born lost and take no pleasure in being found.’

For those with the traveling spirit, this is practically a book of meditations with hardly a page that goes by without one sentence worth underlining or committing to memory. When I first read this, I was going through a huge Steinbeck phase in college and getting out on the road was something always on my mind. And itinerary whenever the opportunity presented itself. There are some gorgeous reflections on taking journeys to be found here:

‘Once a journey is designed, equipped, and put in process, a new factor enters and takes over. A trip, a safari, an exploration, is an entity, different from all other journeys. It has personality, temperament, individuality, uniqueness. A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. Tour masters, schedules, reservations, brass-bound and inevitable, dash themselves to wreckage on the personality of the trip. Only when this is recognized can the blown-in-the glass bum relax and go along with it. Only then do the frustrations fall away. In this a journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.’

Through the book we ride along shotgun with Charley on our lap (good boy) and experience the states with him as he passes through. ‘I find out of long experience that I admire all nations and hate all governments,’ he says in typical old-Steinbeck fashion, ‘and nowhere is my natural anarchism more aroused than at national borders.’ Steinbeck longs for freedom and while he admits the natural impulse at an older age is to resist change, he has set out to see it and meet it. Unfortunately it has been discovered that some details are fabricated, or embellished, and some of the people he meets along the way are caricatures or composites, but the story is ‘true enough’ and if you feel it in your heart, it might as well be true. I came to Steinbeck through his fiction that always felt like a truer understanding of life than most things I’d known anyways, so whatever.

‘One goes, not so much to see but to tell afterward.’

Whether you have a love for travel, an appreciate of Steinbeck, or just need a good book that will make you feel nice inside, Travels for Charley is a winner.

4.5/5

‘People don’t take trips—trips take people.’

n  When I was very young and the urge to be someplace else was on me, I was assured by mature people that maturity would cure this itch, When years described me as mature, the remedy prescribed was middle age. In middle age I was assured that greater age would calm my fever and now that I am fifty-eight perhaps senility will do the job.n

I liked the idea that inspired this book: John Steinbeck, great American writer, decides to set off on a cross country exploration of America, a country he became acclaimed for writing about after fearing he has lost touch with his roots. So he sets out with his faithful poodle Charley to rediscover America.

He decides that his quest will eschew the big cities of America.

n  But New York is no more America than Paris is France or London is England. Thus I discovered that I did not know my own country. I, an American writer, writing about America, was working form memory, and memory is at best a faulty, warpy reservoir. I had not hard the speech of America, smelled the grass and trees and sewage, seen its hills and water, its color and quality of light. I knew the changes only from books and newspapers. But more than this, I had not felt the country for twenty-five years. In short, I was writing of something I did not know about, and it seems to me that in a so-called writer this is criminal.n

So this titan of American literature sets out in the fall of 1960 to rediscover America. He relates his travels both through his observations of the countryside and society ("The rivers were full of logs, bank to bank for miles, waiting their turn at the abattoir to give their woody hearts so that the bulwarks of our civilization such as Time magazine and the Daily News can survive, to defend us against ignorance.") as well as through the interactions he has with the people he meets ("...Why I remember when people took everything out on Mr. Roosevelt. Andy Larsen got red in the face about Roosevelt one time when his hens got the croup. Yes, sir," he said with growing enthusiasm, "those Russians got quite a load to carry. Man has a fight with his wife, he belts the Russians." "Maybe everyone needs Russians. I'll bet even in Russia they need Russians. Maybe they call it Americans.").

Steinbeck's travels took him all across America:



But as a whole this book felt a bit hollow to me. The meat of this book was Steinbeck's ruminations on such things as memory, the loss of regional dialects ("I can remember a time when I could almost pinpoint a man's place of origin by his speech. that is growing more difficult now and will in some foreseeable future become impossible. It is a rare house or building that is not rigged with spiky combers of the air. Radio and television speech becomes standardized, perhaps better English than we have ever used. Just as our bread, mixed and baked, packaged and sold without benefit of accident of human faility, is uniformly good and uniformly tasteless, so will our speech become one speech."), the future promise of mobile homes (I kid you not), and very little of hearing from the citizens he comes across. And even then the conversations he relates were more composites of conversations he had then actual, word for word, transcriptions of reality.

This book struck me as a vehicle for Steinbeck to reflect on what he experienced and how it affected him instead of relaying the facts of his journey. And that is fine, the man is a novelist, not a stenographer. But I felt this choice but him front and center instead of the America he ostensibly set out to discover. What should have been the core of the book was small and diminished, more an afterthought than a quest.

But Steinbeck does have a wonderful way of putting things and sharing his observations of the country or countryside:

As I was not prepared for the Missouri boundary, so I was not prepared for the Bad Lands. They deserve this name. They are the world of an evil child. Such a place the Fallen Angels might have built as a spite to Heaven, dry and sharp, desolate and dangerous, and for me filled with foreboding. A sense comes from it that it does not like or welcome humans.

~~~

Beyond my failings as a racist, I knew I was not wanted in the South. When people are engaged in something they are not proud of, they do not welcome witnesses. In fact, they come to believe the witness causes the trouble.

~~~

The place of my origin had changed, and having gone away I had not changed with it. In my memory it stood as it once did and its outward appearance confused and angered me...Tom Wolf was right. You can't go home again because home has ceased to exist except in the mothballs of memory.

I think the most interesting part of his journey was when he traveled through the South. Specifically New Orleans, where Steinbeck traveled to witness The Cheerleaders, a repugnant group of people as I have ever read about. These were a group of women who would hurl invective and racial slurs at very young African-American children who were desegregating New Orleans schools:n  

They wanted to be admired. They simpered in happy, almost innocent triumph when they were applauded. Theirs was the demented cruelty of egocentric children, and somehow this made their insensate beastliness much more heart-breaking. These were not mothers, not even women. they were crazy actors playing to a crazy audience.

nHis entire experience with the South was somewhat interesting and probably the only part of the book that maintained cohesion throughout the section. Generally though the book was meandering and never really fulfilled the promise of the premise in my opinion. The wiritng did, however, make me more interested in checking out his novels (of which I have not read any).

How often I have wished to do this: just get on the road and head off for destinations unknown. Searching for America John Steinbeck also finds out more about himself - via the intersection of "Examined Life" avenue and "Socratic" lane.

― “There are times that one treasures for all one’s life, and such times are burned clearly and sharply on a material of total recall.”
― John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America

Travels with Charley seemed like such a great match for me. After all, I am a huge fan of John Steinbeck. He authored two of my favorite books: East of Eden and The Grapes of Wrath. Travels with Charley is a travelogue of his 1960 road trip with his French poodle Charley. That was enough to convince me to read it, as I love traveling across America. I have had the good fortune to have visited all but four of the contiguous United States (or the lower 48 states, if you prefer). There have been so many wonderful places that I have had the good fortune to visit—too many to list here.

In the book, Steinbeck bemoans his lost youth and roots, while dispensing both criticism and praise for the United States. One gets the impression he wanted to see the country one last time before he died. He was 60 years old and passed away just eight years later. Born in California, he and his wife, Elaine, were living in Sag Harbor, Long Island, NY, at the time of his trip.

He packed up his ¾ ton truck with camper that he named Rocinante (named for Don Quixote’s horse). He and Charley took the ferry to Connecticut. His route then took him to Deer Isle, Maine. From there, he headed west through the northernmost states. He demonstrates a real fondness for Montana. Who can blame him; I have been to Montana twice—in 2009 and 2014. It’s a gorgeous state.

From there he went across Idaho into Washington, then turned south to California, where he reminisces about his childhood there. Leaving California, he headed east through Arizona, Texas and Louisiana before heading home again. His wife did fly to meet up with him twice during his journey.

Oddly enough, Steinbeck writes more about the people he encounters than he does the land that he sees. While that was a disappointment to me (knocking off one point on my rating), he describes some odd and interesting people. He describes a waitress in Maine as a languid and sad person, the kind who can suck the joy out of a room by her mere presence.

His trip through the southern states is both the most interesting and the most disturbing. In New Orleans, he encounters a group of racist mothers, known as “The Cheerleaders,” who fervidly protest against integration outside of a school. They are so vulgar that neither he nor the newspapers will repeat what they say. Steinbeck is so disgusted by what he has witnessed that he can’t bring himself to eat. He later gains even more insight into racial issues when he picks up a hitchhiker, a black man.

― “If I were to prepare one immaculately inspected generality it would be this: For all of our enormous geographic range, for all of our sectionalism, for all of our interwoven breeds drawn from every part of the ethnic world, we are a nation, a new breed… It is a fact that Americans from all sections and of all racial extractions are more alike than the Welsh are like the English, the Lancashireman like the Cockney, or for that matter the Lowland Scot like the Highlander.”
― John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America

The four states I have not yet visited are Oklahoma, Arkansas, Louisiana and Mississippi. I get the distinct impression from Travels with Charley that I have not missed much. As I approach 75 years of age on my next birthday, I wonder how many more trips I have left in me. To be honest, I wonder how many more years I have left in me. Perhaps I just need to read travelogues like Travels with Charley.

Cinque protagonisti in quest’opera in cui il cinquantottenne John Steinbeck raccontò il viaggio intrapreso attraverso gli Stati Uniti d’America nel 1960.

1) John Steinbeck (1902/1968) stesso; in primo piano i suoi occhi che osservano le nazioni di questo continente dove è forte la compresenza di diversità ed unità culturale;

2) il mezzo con cui ha viaggiato...eccolo...

Il suo nome è Ronzinante; una macchina “camperizzata”; una casa mobile completa di cucina e accessori.


3)Il terzo protagonista è così descritto:

«...portai un solo compagno nel mio viaggio, un vecchio barboncino francese chiamato Charley. In realtà il suo nome è Charles le Chien, nato a Bercy, nei sobborghi di Parigi e cresciuto in Francia»

.

4) C'è poi lo spazio attraversato e la sua gente.
L'America con i suoi paesaggi ed suoi abitanti.
Strade asfaltate e non, distese pianeggianti, colline, montagne, ruscelli, fiumi, laghi, coste marine, cittadine, villaggi, metropoli.
Ogni luogo con leggi particolari soprattutto in materia di codice della strada ma all'entrata di ogni stato tutti sono d’accordo nel declamare, a grandi lettere, il proprio territorio come il più bello.

Il progresso, i cambiamenti sociali, il telefono, la televisione...queste ed altre strade portano i cambiamenti che omologano e rendono sempre più Uniti questi Stati

5) Ma parlano di cinque protagonisti: e il quinto chi è?
Ma il viaggio stesso naturalmente!

” Una volta che il viaggio sia programmato, attrezzato e avviato, subentra un fattore nuovo, e predomina. Un viaggio, un safari, un'esplorazione, è un'entità, diversa da ogni altro viaggio. Ha personalità, temperamento, individualità, unicità. Un viaggio è una persona a sé; non ce ne sono due simili. E sono inutili progetti, garanzie, controlli, coercizioni. Dopo anni di lotta scopriamo che non siamo noi a fare il viaggio; è il viaggio che «fa» noi. Guide, orari, prenotazioni, inevitabili e rigidi, vanno diritti a naufragare contro la personalità del viaggio. “


Su Google Maps il viaggio





Nel 1960, John Steinbeck è uno scrittore affermato (il Nobel arriverà due anni dopo) ma il bisogno di conoscenza è ancora forte.
L’esperienza del viaggio non è solo osservazione del paesaggio ma soprattutto l’incontro con L’Altro che spesso Steinbeck provoca invitando su Ronzinante le persone che lo incuriosiscono di più per un bicchiere di whiskey ed una chiacchierata.
Una miriade di riflessioni e di emozioni.

Una fra tutte e la testimonianza dell'odio razziale scoppiato a New Orleans. Proprio nei giorni in cui lo scrittore era in zona scoppio il caso delle , donne qualunque che si trasformano in bestie gridando di tutto ad una bambina di sei anni che entrava a scuola.
Perchè?
Perchè lei era una bambina nera...


Ruby Bridges, 6 anni





”Sarebbe piacevole poter dire, dei miei viaggi con Charley, «andai a cercare la verità del mio paese e la trovai». E poi sarebbe semplice esporre i miei ritrovamenti e mettermi a sedere, comodo, con la sensazione di avere scoperto verità e di averle insegnate ai miei lettori. Magari fosse così facile. Invece, quello che portavo in testa e, più a fondo, nelle mie percezioni, era un barile di lombrichi. Molti anni or sono, raccogliendo e classificando animali marini, scoprii che quanto trovavo aveva un legame assai stretto con quello che provavo al momento. Dopo tutto, la realtà esterna ha un modo di essere non tanto esterno.
Questo mostro di terra, questa possente nazione, questa spora del futuro, si rivela per un macrocosmo di quel microcosmo che sono io. “

I've read this autobiographical book by Steinbeck about his trip with his giant poodle Charley in his pre-historic motorhome Rosinante in March 1997 on a 5 weeks trip by myself in an RV from El Monte RV Rental driving from Vancouver to Los Angeles.
Every evening I had to stop reading as soon as there was no more daylight as the KOA camp grounds didn't have electricity way back then. So I often kept reading with a flash light.

Before "Travels", I only read "East of Eden" before (loved it, because I enjoyed the movie with James Dean) and "The Grapes of Wrath" (very slow and hard to read, I didn't care for the Henry Fonda movie either), so "Travels with Charley" was delightful in comparison with Steinbeck's other novels.
We had to read "Of Mice and Men" at high school in the early 1970's, but that was also tough reading.

Supposedly there was a TV movie in the late 1960's or early 1970's based on "Travels", but I could never get a copy and it's still not out on DVD (like so many of the older movies).

I wonder if there is another, more compelling biography on Steinbeck out there? I've started reading the one by Jay Parini a few years ago, but it was even harder to get into than Elia Kazan's autobiography or Arthur Miller's "Time Bends".

I hadn't expected to enjoy this book as much as I did. It was my first travelogue, and I only read it because, a) I was bored and b)I figured I couldn't go wrong with Steinbeck - a writer I already enjoyed reading (still do).

But I have a wicked streak of wanderlust in me, too, and Steinbeck really caught me at a good time. It was Summertime, and I was already in a daydream-y mood. That mood lasted all through the book.

I managed to get through the whole trip with the cranky writer, and he was actually quite good company! At the end of the trip, I found I missed not being able to climb back into his pickup (aptly named Rocinante after Don Quixote's horse)with him and the noble Charley, and head out on adventures new.

But the mood passed, and so did the Summer. Many Summers later, I had a chance to go to the Steinbeck Museum in Salinas. I honestly have to say I got a bit of a lump in my throat when I saw exhibited there, with her door opened invitingly, was Rocinante beckoning to me once again to climb in and go see the country with her.

Quite a nice moment.

If I had to pick one thing that I learned from the book it would be that it is a good idea not to have preconceived notions about the places you choose to visit. Chances are they will surprise you, and it is best to be flexible in those cases. This could reduce the possibility of becoming disenchanted with your travel destinations.

„Има мигове, които човек цени цял живот — мигове, които ясно и дълбоко прегарят всичките му спомени.“


Американският начин на живот е изключително любопитен, заради своите многопластови прояви и вътрешни противоречия. От външна гледна точка, САЩ изглежда загадъчно монолитна страна, обаче всъщност представлява сложна федерация на отделни щати, голяма част от които имат доста различни народопсихология и местни нрави...

Джон Стайнбек е подтикнат именно от любопитството си към обикновените американски граждани и техните особености, за да предприеме дълго пътешествие в Америка и разкаже в този чудесен пътепис своите впечатления! Големият писател тръгва на път със своята каравана „Росинант“, като води със себе си симпатичното си куче Чарли. Обикаляйки много различни щати, той се фокусира не толкова върху природните забележителности, колкото върху хората и тяхната душевност. Стайнбек е засегнал в творбата си важни обществени теми, като тежкият расизъм по някои места, проблемите при бурното развитие на градовете, политическото разделение и други. Той разсъждава съвсем разбираемо и човешки върху сложните житейски въпроси... Освен това, „Пътешествия с Чарли“ същевременно е много приятна книга, която се чете бързо и лесно, а и по вълнуващ начин представя светоусещането на един от най-великите писатели на 20-ти век!







„Тихо споделяха как им се ще някой ден да се отправят нанякъде, да вървят, волни и без котва, не към нещо, а от нещо. Тези погледи и този блян видях навсякъде, във всеки щат. Едва ли не всеки американец е гладен за движение.“


„След тридесетгодишна практика знаех също, че не мога да пиша, когато събитията са още пресни, топли. Най-напред трябваше да ферментират.“


„Трудно ми е дори да си представя краските на лесовете, ако не ги виждам. Питах се дали продължителният контакт не довежда до безразличие и попитах за това една женица от Ню Хемпшър. Отвърна ми, че есента винаги, без изключение, я смайвала, повдигала духа й. „Та това е празник, който не може да се запомни — рече тя, — затуй винаги идва като изненада.“


„По едно време дъждът спря, дърветата взеха да се отцеждат, а аз все тъй се напрягах и развъждах в себе си цял рояк от скрити страхове. Хората са склонни да населяват мрака с какви ли не ужасии и това правим дори ние, които се считаме за образовани и самоуверени, дето не бихме повярвали в нищо, ако не го видим и пипнем.“


„Аз съм си роден загубен и не виждам нищо забавно в това да бъда намерен във формите, които означават континенти и държави.“


„Продължителният ми опит ме е научил да се възхищавам от всички народи и да намразя всички власти.“


„Една от целите ми бе да слушам, да поглъщам речта, интонацията, ритъма, обертоновете, ударенията. Защото реч, това е нещо много повече от обикновените думи и изречения.“


„Щастлив съм да докажа, че в борбата между действителността и романтиката действителността невинаги е по-силната страна.“


„Имаш ли спътник, той те определя по време, свързва те с настоящето. Но когато самотата е пълна, миналото, настоящето и бъдещето се сливат. Споменът, днешното събитие и предвиждането — всичко става настояще.“


„— Продължавайте, разказвайте!
— Докъде бях стигнал?
— Казахте, че уважавате материала си, че сте актьор.
— А, да. Но има още нещо. Нали знаете, като тръгнат на турне, всички актьори гледат на хората от провинцията като на селяндури. И с мен беше същото, докато не разбрах, че селяндури не съществуват, и почна да ми олеква. Научих се да уважавам публиката си. Те разбират това и ми помагат, не са ми противници. Уважаваш ли ги, ще почувстват всичко, което им кажеш.“


„— Тук няма ни театър, ни музика, няма с кого да разговаряш. Не можеш и стари списания да получаваш. Трябва да се абонираш.
— Но нали четеш Ню Йоркър?
— Как познахте? Абониран съм.
— И Тайм?
— Разбира се.
— Тогаз не ти трябва никъде да ходиш.
— Какво казахте?
— Казах, че тъй имаш целия свят под ръка. Света на модата, на изкуството, света на мисълта — всичко ти е в задния двор. Отидеш ли в Ню Йорк, всичко ще ти се обърка.“


„Пристигнах в Монтърей и битката почна. Сестрите ми и досега са републиканки. Както гражданските войни минават за най-жестоките, така и от семейното политиканство едва ли има нещо по-невъздържано и по-коварно. С чужди хора бистря политиката хладнокръвно и критично. Но при сестрите ми това не е възможно. Всяка престрелка завършвахме едва дишащи, изчерпани от бяс. Компромис не бе възможен по никаква точка.“


„Вярно бе онова, което казах на Джони Гарсиа — призракът бях аз. Моят град бе пораснал, бе се изменил, а с него и другарите. Аз се бях върнал променен за приятелите си тъй, както градът за мен изглеждаше друг; бях нарушил и омърсил у тях целостта на спомените. С бягството си оттук бях умрял, а с това бях станал вечен. Връщането ми причини само смут и неловкост. И макар че не го казаха, приятелите ми предпочитаха да си ида, за да заема отреденото си място в техните стари представи за мен. По същата причина аз сам исках да се махна. Томас Уулф беше прав. Човек вече не може да се завърне у дома...“


„Тексас е душевно състояние. Тексас е заблуда. И над всичко Тексас е нация в пълния смисъл на думата. Разбира се, с това долита и първото ято обобщения. Тексасецът вън от Тексас е чужденец. Жена ми говори за себе си като за тексаска, изоставила родината си, но това е вярно само отчасти. Обикновено разговаря, както трябва, но заприказва ли се с тексасец, моментално се променя и минава на диалект. Не е нужно много да се мъчиш да разбереш откъде е.
Бях изучавал тексаските проблеми от много години и от най-различни страни. Както винаги, едната истина, до която стигах, неизбежно се опровергаваше от следващата. Вън от своя щат тексасците изглеждат малко неуверени и мекушави, качества, които се проявяват като самохвалство, нахалство и шумно самодоволство, т.е. като предпазните клапи на срамежливите деца. У дома си тексасците са коренно различни. Тези, с които се запознах, бяха любезни, щедри и тихи хорица.“


„Хората, които вършат неща, с които не могат да се гордеят, обикновено не обичат външните свидетели. Понякога те вярват, че тъкмо свидетелите са виновни за всичко.“


„Трудно би било да обясниш на едно куче, че хилядите човеци, сбрани вкупом, за да ругаят едно невинно човешко същество, се ръководят от добри и високоморални подбуди. Долавял съм в погледа на кучетата мигновено преминаващия израз на недоумяващо презрение и съм убеден, че кучетата по начало смятат хората за шантави.“



„Разказах само това, което видях и което чух от хората, които срещнах. Типични ли са били моите събеседници и дали от всичко това могат да се изведат едни или други заключения — не зная. Зная само едно — в Юга цари безпокойство, хората са объркани. Зная и това, че разрешаването на този проблем — когато един ден настъпи — няма да е тъй лесно и просто. И аз като мосю Тук Почива ще кажа, че работата не е в крайната цел, а в средствата, в страхотната неизвестност на средствата.“

I first read this book about thirty years ago. All I could remember about it was being slightly disappointed for some reason. Don't ask me why, it was too long ago. When I finished reading this time around I found myself disappointed again, but not in the book, not at all. I had forgotten the beauty of Steinbeck's writing, and Charley was a wonderful companion, as much of a main character as the author himself. This is an intelligent book that will (or should) make the reader think about what Steinbeck saw and what might have changed since then.

And there is the reason for my disappointment. There has not been as much change in America as you might think after 57 years. We are still dealing with environmental destruction; out of control waste; hatred, ignorance and prejudice between people of different skin colors; and a world situation that could bring everything human to an end at any moment. Twitter may have replaced the United Nations, where Khrushchev had his infamous temper tantrum with that shoe, but otherwise the world feels the same as the tense one Steinbeck describes.

One observation: the final portions of this book, where Steinbeck travels in the South and witnesses racism on an appalling scale, will disgust many people. But do not skip these pages, because once again, the 'modern' America is still dealing with the issue of equality, and Steinbeck's thoughts here are important, even though as he says, he has "...only told what a few people said to me and what I saw."

But when you pull back from the big picture and look at details, this book has plenty of happy moments. I liked the author's delight in Wisconsin, a state he had never before visited. And he may have been delighted with Wisconsin, but he absolutely fell in love with Montana. Then the episode with Charley in Yellowstone National Park was priceless, more so for being completely unexpected because Charley was said to be such a mild-mannered gentleman of a dog.

I especially enjoyed the pages which told of his time camping in Redwood country. Steinbeck explained that he had grown up with the huge California trees, he loved and respected them. But he admitted that many people are frightened by them. He talks about how it feels around the trees during the night:
"And there's a breathing in the black, for these huge things that control the day and inhabit the night are living things and have presence, and perhaps feeling, and, somewhere in deep-down perception, perhaps communication."

He shares a very brief outline of their history, and then ponders:
"And only these few are left ~~ a stunning memory of what the world was like once long ago. Can it be that we do not love to be reminded that we are very young and callow in a world that was old when we came into it? And could there be a strong resistance to the certainty that a living world will continue its stately way when we no longer inhabit it?"

The living world will continue in some form, Man or no Man. But when I die, I hope it is from something natural like an earthquake or a hurricane and not because of some idiots with itchy Twitter fingers.

2.75 stars
“I saw in their eyes something I was to see over and over in every part of the nation- a burning desire to go, to move, to get under way, anyplace, away from any Here. They spoke quietly of how they wanted to go someday, to move about, free and unanchored, not toward something but away from something. I saw this look and heard this yearning everywhere in every states I visited. Nearly every American hungers to move.”
I have no idea whether the above is true or not: in 1960 or now. This is effectively a travelogue. Steinbeck was living in Long Island after having lived abroad for some years. He felt he was disconnected from his home country and decided he needed to rediscover it. The way he did this was by planning a road trip. He bought a campervan which he adjusted to his needs. He named it Rocinante (after Don Quixote’s old horse). He went without any human company but took his dog Charley, a large French Poodle type dog. He sort of travelled in a circle around the outside, though the northern states, then California and east through the southern states: avoiding the heartlands altogether. The book was published in 1962 and the road trip took place in 1960.
Recent debates have often focused on how accurate and authentic the whole thing is. A good number of the conversations do sound forced; Steinbeck is a fiction writer. A journalist, some years ago tried to recreate the trip and did some research into some of the detail. He discovered that it wasn’t just him and Charley most of the time, but often his wife Elaine was with him and they stayed in motels and hotels. Fans have generally argued that while much of it is factually inaccurate, there is an authentic feel to it. Steinbeck writes well and is obviously a novelist first. It’s also redolent of male writers of a certain breed:
“I have always lived violently, drunk hugely, eaten too much or not at all, slept around the clock or missed two nights of sleeping, worked too hard and too long in glory, or slobbed for a time in utter laziness. I've lifted, pulled, chopped, climbed, made love with joy and taken my hangovers as a consequence, not as a punishment.”
There is also a certain sadness or lostness to the book. Steinbeck obviously felt things weren’t as they should be in the US. This is particularly so in the South and in New Orleans. Steinbeck tackles the issue of race head on. It was the height of the Civil Rights movement and Steinbeck was generally known as a liberal type. He writes of some of the protests outside desegregated schools. The language that comes with it is also s you would expect. Steinbeck feels nauseated by what he hears. What bothered me about this aspect of the book was his sense that there was little that could be done. No thought about helping or joining the resistance.
Another reflection is that I am wondering why many travelogues are just not that at all but are part fiction. Chatwin’s In Patagonia is another example. Maybe a travelogue is an excuse for a series of ramblings and reflections that don’t fit anywhere else.
This has a certain warmth and I liked the dog, but the whole did not really work for me.

My father bought me this book when I was probably about eight years old, and I read it quickly and fell in love with it. One day (now that I've thought of it, probably sooner than later) I'll reread it, but for now I'm content believing I would still find it a good read.

4,5☆