Travels with Charley

What a delightful surprise of a book — a surprise in that I found it on my parents' bookshelf, which I scavenged when I realized I forgot my kindle on a trip home. My parents have a full set of Steinbeck's, including East of Eden and Mice of Men, which I read years back, and Winters of Our Discontent, which didn't quite fit the mood I'm going for. So this book was the last remaining option. Having just gotten a dog myself, I felt drawn to Steinbeck's memoir of driving across America in a trailer with his poodle, Charley.

The book seems to have a serious question: what is America? Which spawns more serious questions about roots, race, politics, urbanization, etc. But the tone, save for a few moments of exquisitely beautiful writing, and a bit of painful experience, was one of lightness with a good helping of dry wit. I didn't expect to chuckle so much. Reading this book, I felt itchy to write in the way great writers make me itch, and also made a list of the states I have yet to visit with renewed vigor to do so. But most importantly, the book was so fun because it was like taking the trip with Steinbeck and his dog without having to travel at all.

I'm told my paternal grandfather, who passed when I was a mere six months old, didn't read much but this was his favorite book. It probably would not have been on my radar if it weren't for this, though I am a sucker for road and travel writing, and find myself opining for it even more in the current pandemic-world we live in.

I'm fully aware Travels with Charley is almost entirely if not all a fabrication. The piss-in-your-cornflakes types can't quite suck all of the enjoyment out of this book for me, partially because Steinbeck states in the book several times he may have embellished or changed facts, and because you can absolutely 100% tell just by reading through it that it's a very curated selection of motley characters and events that anyone who's done a few road trips would know isn't realistic. The true reality of road trips is that they are often full of junk food, long stretches of boring nothingness, and occasionally punctuated by magical scenery or an event here or there.

Even still, I found Steinbeck's cast of characters endearing, for the most part. His philosophical musings and asides to the reader were interesting and resonated with me, even if they weren't novel. I found myself wishing I were in Rocinante with Juanito and Charley, kicking back on the steps with a piping hot plastic cup of coffee, maybe watching a river roll on by us. It's exactly this type of romanticized old-America, that despite it's glaring hypocrisy and occasional cold disposition, exposes the soul of the nation, that at heart compassion and friendliness are the most American qualities, and serves as a hopeful and enjoyable salve for my chapped soul in these tough times.

First read: I started this book with tremendous
expectations, I admit. But there is
something terribly disappointing about
reading a book by an author you admire
in which he laments the difficulties
of driving in heavy traffic and
complains about pollution. I
hoped for more intimacy between
Steinbeck and the American people,
I think.




Second read: Reading Blue Highways for the last two weeks somehow led me to pick up a copy of Travels with Charley.

It reads like a contemporary travelogue. Steinbeck laments the the pollution and human encroachment of wilderness that he finds wherever he travels. If I'd not been told this had been written by Steinbeck, I'd never have guessed it was his child.

I liked the book and I didn't like the book. He seems to run into the scruffiest of people, people who have run down to their last dollar, who are down on their luck and down on life.
No happy people, John? No cheery optimists?

A slow, ambling journey accompanied by a slow, ambling introspection. The writing is as exploratory as Steinbeck views the world around him. Would not recommend for those looking for a quick read. Would recommend for those wishing to analyse what it was like to see America uninterrupted back in the day. You might notice that some things haven't changed a bit between then and now.

I picked up this book reluctantly in a second-hand bookstore in Ojai, CA. I say reluctantly because I wasn't in the mood for a memoir or non-fiction. But I was on a Steinbeck bender.

I'm so glad I did pick it up. This has skyrocketed into my Top 10 list. I don't know if it's because I'm on a cross-America roadtrip of my own, or because I wished Charley was my travel buddy, or because Steinbeck just writes in a way that resonates so strongly, with humor and honest assessment.

I loved it. I already look forward to reading it again.