East of Eden

June ‘10: I just finished re-reading this book—the first time I've read it in four years—and while I loved it, I'm not sure I loved it as much as I thought I did. The elements I loved so much the first time didn't stand out to me this time around.

The theme of ‘thou mayest' will still be the strongest driving force in my overall outlook on life, though.

I love how Steinbeck invites you in for coffee or drinks with his characters. They slowly unfold their nature rather than being thrust upon you. A couple of characters in this story were almost too themselves - too predictable or repeating the same bits- not so much to spoil the story, though.

I still say that “The winter of our discontent” is Steinbeck's best.

All of the characters were so vivid and engaging, with the exception of Aron. He was completely flat to me, no depth or complexity at all, and this was especially glaring because of the impeccable job Steinbeck did with every single other character. So does one flaw ruin a book? No way! It's still a hell of a good book, and I'd recommend it to anyone. When the time comes, just gloss over the Aron stuff and focus on Cal.

Family saga that follows the Hamiltons and the Trasks and loosely re-imagines the biblical story Cain and Abel.

Steinbeck asks the question: is your nature fated because of blood (genetics) or do you have a choice in what you're going to be?

The wisest characters believe that we do have a choice. Timshel. Thou mayest triumph over sin, meaning that men have a choice.

“I don't very much believe in blood,” said Samuel. “I think when a man finds good or bad in his children he is seeing only what he planted in them after they cleared the womb.” “You can't make a race horse of a pig.” “No,” said Samuel, “but you can make a very fast pig.”

We all have those pieces of art–be they movies, books, music, what have you–that upon first exposure we fall in love. We turn the last page or exit the theater or concert hall certain that this will surely be added to our list of favorites and long-held companions. Yet, how many times do we say this and a year or two down the road someone mentions that very piece of art and we find ourselves thinking, “oh yeah, I did read that, didn't I?” or “I had forgotten how much I loved that album!”

So often we get swept away in the immediate experience of something skipping upon the waters of our soul, leaving little ripples and echoes dancing in its wake. But these dimples and dapples merely play on the surface for a time, returning once more to their source, leaving the waters ultimately undisturbed–the liquid plane unbroken; the deepest depths untouched.

There are other times, however, that we encounter a piece of art–or rather, it encounters us–and we are changed. It transcends mere rankings of “favorites” and “Top 10s” and weaves itself into our fibers. We do not critique and assess it, so much as it sizes and weighs us. The surface tension is broken and we are plunged beneath, staring humanity's unvarnished truths in the face. And in so doing our own humanity is enlarged, a spaciousness expands in our souls, and we feel more human–even as our foundations are shaken.

John Steinbeck's 1952 magnum opus, East of Eden, is just this kind of piece of art. It's the kind of book people say they will read “someday”, only to read it and wish “someday” had come a lot sooner. So if you haven't read it. Do so. Start today.

The Beauty

Just like other art that has so deeply affected me–Terrence Malick's Tree of Life, Mark Rothko's Orange, Red, Yellow, and Miles Davis' Kind of Blue–East of Eden is about both the most mundane and most profound of human experiences and knowledge.

At its most basic, East of Eden follows a few generations of two families, the Hamiltons and the Trasks, and how they interact and intersect. At a slightly deeper level, it is a retelling of the first few chapters of the biblical book of Genesis.

The book takes its time. It's long, moving with the easy-going gait of a sauntering elder recounting legends burrowed deep within his soul. Entire sections simply describe the way a car engine works, or give extended quotations of whole chapters from the Bible. Even in its seriousness, it is not an earnest book, by any means; it isn't trying at lengths to convince you of its beauty and power. Rather, it is poised, secure, and relaxed in its seduction of the human heart. And boy, does it seduce.

There are other stunningly beautiful books–The Great Gatsby comes to mind–but even those books take some breaks in their poetry for some “mere” exposition. Steinbeck's novel, however, is aesthetically relentless. From beginning to end, page after page, the limits of the English language are pushed to break one's heart over and over and over again by awashing it in such beauty and imagery and metaphor, bringing life and light even to the dead and dark in the pages.

And this vivifying force extends to the deep humanity Steinbeck has for his characters. You will scarcely find another novel with even one character as fully realized as those in East of Eden, much less the huge numbers found here. None is a caricature or an over-simplified distillation of generic human qualities. Every person mentioned, even in passing, is so distinct as a human being, in all their complexity, comedy, and tragedy.

And ultimately, it is this that most exemplifies the heart from which this novel is poured and the place to which it draws us. East of Eden is a staggering piece of beauty and depth, offered by an artist with such compassion and love for the dignity and complexity of humans, even in their deepest sin and darkness.

The Vision

One conversation, I believe, offers us the clearest picture of the book's vision, sweep, and thesis. I've edited and removed all specific mentions of character and plot to avoid spoilers (you're welcome). I think this same conversation could be offered between every human–lovers, friends, enemies–and even within every human's own soul:

“Do you hate me?”
“No, but you hate me a little. Why is that?”
“I—I'm afraid of you.”
“No need to be.”
“I've hurt you more than you know.”
“But I'm glad you told me.”
“Why?”
“Because now I know I didn't make it all up. I feel free now. And I think I love you.”
“But I'm not good.”
“I love you because you're not good.”

The lack of “good” mentioned here is not playful, flirtatious, or salacious. The badness spoken of is the deep pain and darkness that exists in all of us. East of Eden emphatically tells us that we do not find life by drawing close to those on what we imagine to be the “right” road–who see all things as pure and good and have little capacity to hold the brokenness of others' in their sights; nor is it found with those that live solely on the “bad” road–whose lives turn inside on themselves such that they become less human and treat others likewise.

Rather, life in relationship with others is found by drawing close to those who, as one character puts it, are “crammed full to the top with every good thing and every bad thing.” It is when one sees their own darkness and accepts their “not good”-ness, and in turn draws close to others of the same realization, that the light can begin cresting upon the horizon.

The Invitation

East of Eden invites us into a slog, a journey, a work. The book has such compassion for every one of its characters–even its most vile ones–and invites us to do the same, even as we hurt others and they hurt us. And this is so hard.

Yet life and meaning can never be found in relationship with those that are “good”, but only in those that have experienced they are “not good”–meaning that they have seen themselves as what we all most truly are.

This raw, elemental, basic truth of humanity is what stares at us from beneath the surface of the waters. It is the mirror that East of Eden holds to our souls. It is the judgment laid before us, and it is that rarest and sweetest form of judgment: one devoid of all nihilism, one that acts as both a sword that cuts and a balm that soothes, and one which invites us to work for what is most meaningful in our lives–hard, but beautiful relationships. Relationships only held in existence by the tenacity of forgiveness and grace, even against radical sin.

Northern California's Salinas Valley is the first “character” we meet in the book, and it serves as the backdrop for the rest of what follows. In it we see a beautiful metaphor of where we are invited to find light in the midst of such darkness: relationships forged through the fire and valley of human depravity and pain, and up the other side into life, freedom, and forgiveness.

Steinbeck and East of Eden, therefore, offer us a choice. Will we live our lives pushing away and protecting ourselves from all the “bad” and hurt in the world, thus missing the depths of relationship that can come from mercy, forgiveness, redemption, grace, and compassion? Or can we see others and ourselves in the full truth of our “not good”-ness and still love them–growing our capacity to hold both the light and darkness of others within our hearts, not loving them in spite of what's most broken in them, but precisely because we see them for who they truly are?

It is a daily choice. It is fitting that this novel is a retelling of the opening of Genesis–a book of beginnings. For even in the book's finality and end, its invitation and vision are offered to us not as an ending, but rather a beginning: of new life, new love, and a new world. It is a call to a hard, but beautiful life; a life whose hope is not founded on whether we will or will not choose the beautiful road of brokenness and compassion, but in the freedom and dignity of being human, in which we are imbued with the honor that we can and “mayest” choose such a road of blessing, beauty, and brokenness.

What will you choose?

I laughed. I cried. I thought I was getting a nice descriptive family history of life in the Salinas Valley. I actually got an incredible allegorical generational story, one that shows people at their best and worst. I learned about expectation, about choice, about what we are given and what we have to take. I don't know how it is that [b:East of Eden 4406 East of Eden John Steinbeck https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1441547516s/4406.jpg 2574991]'s characters can be sometimes so obviously playing out their type, their assigned role, and yet they feel directly and deeply the things that I have or hope to feel in not so many words. They're fictional, but their lives are universal.10/10 would recommend.

What a cracker of a book! This was my first read on the Kindle and I have to say that it's a very good way to consume a book. Between the Kindle app on the iPhone, Kindle 3G and iPad, it was easy to read small chunks or large chunks as time permitted.

I recently read Grapes of Wrath and went straight on to East of Eden. Steinbeck is without doubt one of my favourite writers; it's just something about his knack of writing about the human spiritual condition that I can really relate to.

It's quite a grand tale in terms of the span of time it covers, but in essence it's the tale of two brothers from birth to death. The tale of how the brothers' father comes into his own is handled very well and shows that we can shape our own destiny.

I don't really know how to put into words the sense of spiritual well being that I get from Steinbeck's novels. He lived in a different time in a different place, but still I can relate to his characters so well. It's the human flaws, the inner monologues and struggles, the spiritual condition, all of those things make it seem so real. It's philosophical, that's what it is. I'm just at the right age for discovering Steinbeck's masterpieces really.

“Perhaps the best conversationalist in the world is the man who helps others to talk.”

This is a hard book to review, mostly because I'm not really sure why this turned out to be such a compelling read. It's like a character study spanning a generation, where everyone's thoughts and motives are center stage. The main “meat” of the book surrounds Adam and his family, though several other characters come in and out of frame that play a large role in how Adam develops. The time period spans from 1862 to the outbreak of World War I, and for your time spent you really start to develop an understanding and an interest in this family who settles in Salinas Valley, California.

If we're being honest here, I really thought this was going to be a DNF book for me. If it wasn't for literally everybody around me telling me how good this book is and me not wanting to deal with defending myself for the rest of my life, I probably would have put it down within the first third or so. I found this book to really drag in the beginning, which is what prevents me from giving it a full five stars. It pulled me in hard once things start to come together and you find out how all the pieces you were introduced to in the beginning fit, and I found the rest to be a very satisfying (if long) read.

I also wasn't fully satisfied with Kate/Cathy and her resolution. We can see her slow descent into paranoia and suspicion, but her deciding to suddenly kill herself (I say suddenly, when it's clear she's been planning it a while) felt out of character from what she was set up as. Steinbeck made an attempt to set her up as a sympathetic, pitiful character in the end, but I still don't think it makes up for how she got there.

Can we also just talk a second about how awesome a character Lee was? The dude really carried the family on his shoulders, I swear.

So, all in all, I'm very glad I gave this book so many chances and stuck with it ‘til the end. It's a satisfying book to have read. I'm glad I listened to my friends (for once).

I cannot say enough about this novel, and so I'll opt not to say much other than I get something new out of this book every time I read it. It's a novel that is entertaining – that's the way he rolls – but it also makes you think.

The title refers to the story of Cain and Abel, and the book deals with this story, as well as the themes present in the Adam and Eve tale. There is, in fact, a character named Adam, but he also represents Abel and God at other points in the story. Just as Shakespeare points out that

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts.

Steinbeck says that we all relive the archetypal stories. A man can start as a favored son with a jealous brother, grow to manhood to fall in love with a woman who is no damned good, and become a father with sons who seek his approval. Some stories are a part of us, because we can't stop retelling them, because we can't stop living them.

There's also some tasty stuff about whether or not people are born evil and the nature of choice.

I really struggled to get into the first 1/3 of the book but I soon connected with the characters and their stories.

This truly is a beautifully written book with powerful characters that seem real. I found my self absolutely hating some of them and loving others. I was worried I would get the cast mixed up as there are so many characters, but not to worry they are so individual in their characteristics and stories I can still recall them.

My favorite book of this era so far.

I got this book on sale for $3 at the Library Bookstore. It was on display, and after having loved Of Mice and Men so much, I immediately bought it. It's a big book, over 600 pages long, but I already love it so much. I am at chapter 8 out of 55. I have a feeling this is going to become one of my favorite books. I read it and I already feel like I am going to re-read it.

Update: I finished East of Eden two days ago and I haven't gotten to writing a review yet. First, it is my favorite book ever. I know I didn't like as much pages 500 to 550, but it is still so good. Okay, so I am going to start listening to classical music, and see if it helps. The love and hate between siblings, the ideal of a love dressed over someone's personality, the philosophy of life, the changing landscape of California at the turn of the 20th century, the repeated trauma and patterns from generations to generations, the exploration of psychopathy, the exploration of idealists, the nature of truth and virtue and what we expect from others, and what we expect from ourselves. The trades. Can you explore and escape your name? What is the nature of choices? Can you hear someone beyond their appearances? What is richness? What is friendship, and age? Do thoughts develop with age, or are we all fully thinking from an early age? Is truth always good to tell, and how, with how much softness? How to embrace people's choices? Yes, how to...

13 Pieces for Piano Op. 76: 2. Etude - Jean Sibelius

This review is not a fair review. I thought I was going to like it, love it, maybe, but I didn't. And the reason I didn't like it has nothing to do with the beautiful writing or the big themes or the fascinating characters in this book; it had all of that and more.

I blame myself. I forced myself to read this book this summer. I assigned it to myself for summer reading.

So don't bother reading this review. Try someone else's review. I read it when I wasn't ready for it and that ruined the experience for me.

This is a luxurious read. Take it slow and let Steinbeck's mastery revitalize your mind. Anything I say will likely be perceived as absurd because I loved this book so much. Steinbeck is more than an author. This book is more philosophy than mere fiction. One might even classify it as allegorical in its exploration of deeply human and universal themes.

Everyone who reads this will likely get something wildly different out of it but one thing I think can be felt by all; this book epitomizes American literature. In fact, in the final chapters, Lee and Caleb discuss what it means to be American and it's brilliant. Not in the patriotic sense but in the core character of American rebellion and ingenuity and our sense of moral rightness (as held at the turn of the century). While much has changed in modern society, the values and evils and joys of American life are still prominent today.

One last note. I lived in Monterey, California, which sits just west of Salinas, where the bulk of this tale takes place. Steinbeck captures the charm and character of the setting so perfectly. He does so with a loving fondness that made me ache to spend more time in that wonderful county.