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Oh God. I want more. I *need* more.
I'm a giant ball of sheer emotion right now, as many people must've been when they finished this story. Dang it, John Steinbeck, how could you do this to us? How could you write something so heart-wrenching, and manage to leave us wanting more?
Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment...but I can't be the only one who's had such a visceral reaction to this story.
Lennie and George.
George and Lennie.
Two lonely men who live on the fringe of society, desperately clinging to a far off dream that could bring them comfort and stability.
Only a transient, a dirt poor traveler who scrapes their pennies together would know how sad it is to live this way. To live trying to keep your back to the wind, so to speak. To eke out a family from the outcasts, the unwanteds, the forgotten people.
George was given a reason to live, even if that reason was a burden that felt like a cross to bear. His loyalty made him feel responsible for Lennie no matter what, which is the mark of a beautiful soul.
Hope and the death of it.
Or rather, clinging to the last shred of hope lest your dignity dies with it. The loss of dignity or hope is the one thing in life that can cause someone to go 'round the curve of the point of no return, and not look back. To have nothing left to lose is frightening.
And dangerous.
And the responsibility that goes along with that knowledge bravely showed its scarred, ugly face in this touching novella.
I'm a giant ball of sheer emotion right now, as many people must've been when they finished this story. Dang it, John Steinbeck, how could you do this to us? How could you write something so heart-wrenching, and manage to leave us wanting more?
Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment...but I can't be the only one who's had such a visceral reaction to this story.
Lennie and George.
George and Lennie.
Two lonely men who live on the fringe of society, desperately clinging to a far off dream that could bring them comfort and stability.
Only a transient, a dirt poor traveler who scrapes their pennies together would know how sad it is to live this way. To live trying to keep your back to the wind, so to speak. To eke out a family from the outcasts, the unwanteds, the forgotten people.
George was given a reason to live, even if that reason was a burden that felt like a cross to bear. His loyalty made him feel responsible for Lennie no matter what, which is the mark of a beautiful soul.
Hope and the death of it.
Or rather, clinging to the last shred of hope lest your dignity dies with it. The loss of dignity or hope is the one thing in life that can cause someone to go 'round the curve of the point of no return, and not look back. To have nothing left to lose is frightening.
And dangerous.
And the responsibility that goes along with that knowledge bravely showed its scarred, ugly face in this touching novella.