Portal de Periódicos da CAPES

EDITOR’S COLUMN

2023; Penn State University Press; Volume: 20; Issue: 1 Linguagem: Inglês

10.5325/steinbeckreview.20.1.vii

1754-6087

Barbara A. Heavilin, with Cecilia Donohue,

American and British Literature Analysis

Fallen apart from long use, the front cover of my 1986 Penguin edition of Travels with Charley is paperclipped on. Frail and well worn, the entire volume is held together with a rubber band. Faded sticky notes mark items of special interest for past research and future reference. On the inside back cover are jotted random subjects that fascinate—including such items as Steinbeck’s long devotion to writing, design, and technique, and his early interest in the land and the environment. This random listing shows Travels with Charley to be a treasure trove of riches for scholar or reader:I picked up this copy of Travels—a personal reference book and a touchstone—to peruse when Susan Shillinglaw and I began editing a collection of essays on Travels with Charley. But although Travels is a treasure beloved across the years by a variety of readers as well as by me, why devote an entire book of essays to what seems at first glance to be a travelogue about a man and his dog—with the latter featured most prominently from the onset in the title, Travels with Charley: In Search of America? For one thing, it is a vastly popular book that continues to have appeal for both a general and a scholarly audience. It has contemporary relevance, speaking to our times as clearly and forcefully as it did in the early 1960s. It appeals to our humanity: our neglect and abuse of the land and environment; our relationship to other times, other places, other peoples; and perhaps most importantly to our future as a people and a nation. It provides a mirror by which we may see ourselves as we are as Americans, warts and all. And it has provided scholars with a conundrum as well: to what genre exactly does this book belong? Where does it fit in with other literary works? As fiction or nonfiction? As an olio of both? As private discourse that Steinbeck invents as he goes along, gleefully and purposefully disregarding the “rules” of genre? Whatever it is, the reader must not overlook the fact that it is written from the heart as well as from mind and astute observation. For John Steinbeck’s vast love for America and its people is apparent on every page. Further, this book continues to have a vital and timely message for us all.With Travels with Charley Steinbeck created a kaleidoscopic vision of America, wherein he stretches the limits of genres; exults in the sublime in nature; grieves over a nation’s failures—in particular, racism and abuse of the environment. Here he also peers into our nation’s future with much trepidation, as nuclear warfare threatens in the backdrop; proffers some hope for survival even if the worst occurs; and rejoices in the essential goodness of its people. In his perusal of the present, he finds everything sanitized and enveloped in plastic while at the same time our cities are surrounded by our flotsam and jetsam—sorry monuments to our wastefulness. He peers into the past—even into deep time and our geological past—to glimpse from whence we have come. And he dimly views the future, enabling us to see his times and ours commingling in the prospect, now with readers also fearing nuclear warfare, but extending their present fear to encompass the threat of a future World War III. Travels encompasses it all—Steinbeck’s day and our own.The essays in Crossroads America: Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley attest to the scope of this vision. The table of contents below provides an overview of chapters by a vibrant slate of essayists:Peer reviewers found Crossroads America: Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley to be an enjoyable, worthwhile read. We hope readers will appreciate this book as well. The book will be published in late 2023 or early 2024 by the University of Alabama Press.The lead article in this issue features “‘A Mark High and Bright’: Cervantes in Steinbeck’s Cold War Trajectory,” in which William P. Childers intriguingly traces the influence of Miguel de Cervantes’s Don Quixote (1605) on Steinbeck’s post–World War II body of work. As the concerns of Steinbeck’s America transitioned from Depression-era poverty and wartime tragedy to postwar prosperity and Cold War tensions, a “new set of concerns demanded a change in his approach to literature.” Childers explores how Steinbeck’s mid-twentieth-century works, commencing with The Wayward Bus (1947) and continuing with A Russian Journal (1948), East of Eden (1952), The Short Reign of Pippin IV: A Fabrication (1957), The Winter of Our Discontent (1961), and Travels with Charley: In Search of America (1962) show evidence of “Quixotic” influence and inspiration. The Wayward Bus is structured much like Cervantes’s masterpiece in its “structuring” of “the interaction among author, book, characters, and readers.” In discussing A Russian Journal, Childers likens writer Steinbeck and his travel companion, photographer Robert Capa, to Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, with Steinbeck’s describing their “quest—to ride behind the ‘iron curtain’ and pit . . . pens, lances and lenses against the windmills of today.” In analyzing East of Eden, Childers observes that for this novel Steinbeck embraced a Cervantes-like “artistic autonomy, including the license to expound his views before the reader, who becomes an equal participant in the game, from whom nothing should be hidden.” The title character of the satire The Short Reign of Pippin IV is described as a blend of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. In identifying Don Quixote as “the textual intermediary between Malory’s Arthurian romance and contemporary US society,” Childers connects Quixote to Steinbeck’s The Winter of Our Discontent with its “toggling back and forth between romance and satire.” Childers has analyzed Travels with Charley previously in the forthcoming Crossroads America: Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley; and he suggests here that reading Don Quixote can set the stage for defending a “literary, . . . even satirical” reading of Steinbeck’s travel memoir, alongside its influence on the naming of Steinbeck’s camper/truck.Lowell Wyse’s “‘A Pattern of Reality’: Writing Place in Travels with Charley and A Russian Journal” presents a comparison/contrast of two of Steinbeck’s full-length travel narratives through “an ecospatial approach.” Wyse defines this method as “a way of reading that utilizes the tools of ecocriticism and geocriticism to discuss the dynamics of nature, geography, and human stories that together generate a sense of place.” Wyse maintains that both Travels with Charley and A Russian Journal are “best . . . read as works of literary cartography” with travel writing perceived as a form of “mapping” and readers tasked with “charting out the connections among people, place, and process.” For Wyse, A Russian Journal is a testament to geography as shaper of national identity and character: “Steinbeck’s portrayals of particular Russian communities [most notably Tiflis, now Tbilisi, Georgia] enduring in the most beautiful and remarkable places . . . echo the author’s long-standing interest in the ways that geography and society determine each other—place as the grounds for human experience.” In Travels with Charley Wyse’s encounters “fewer reflections on how geography shapes identity,” instead focusing on “romantic pastoralism” as Steinbeck and Charley traverse the dwindling country landscape of America and the writer provides a “biting depiction” of the expanding urban metropolis. Wyse explains this difference by pointing out that unlike A Russian Journal, Travels with Charley provides a nostalgic tour of the writer’s own native homeland: “Whereas ecospatial descriptions in A Russian Journal reflect the novelty of the Soviet landscape and the clues it held about its people, in Travels with Charley they also serve as windows into the author’s past, against which everything is constantly measured.” Yet Wyse declares that in both of these travel volumes, Steinbeck “shows that people are what ultimately define a place, above and beyond environment and politics” with “place as defined by the human stories” within their pages and “hospitality as a point of human connection.”In “Steinbeck’s A Russian Journal and Things: Stalin and Museums,” Michael Fonash reads and interprets the writer’s 1947 travel narrative through a lens associated with material culture. Drawing on the scholarship of Bill Brown and Sarah Wasserman, Fonash maintains that in his pursuit of propaganda-free impartiality in communicating his impressions of Russia, Steinbeck employs “things, rather than words, as his efficiently functioning code of communication” which “allows him to report objectively while attempting to transcend the problem of language.” Underscoring Brown’s observation in his 2001 essay “Thing Theory” that objects carry “codes” which endow them with “meaningful” interpretation, Fonash perceives the opportunity to create a “discourse of objectivity” allowing the writer, and ultimately the reader, to implement objects as “facts.” According to Fonash, “Steinbeck successfully employs two specific Russian things in his travel narrative that implicitly transmit the concept of Russianness more than any other thing to the American reader”: Stalin paraphernalia (aka “objects” or “things”); and museums (monuments that serve as repositories for “things”). Referencing the “paintings, pictures, and statues of Stalin,” Steinbeck points out the omnipresence of the leader’s image: “His portrait hangs not only in every museum but in every room of every museum.” Regarding Steinbeck’s objective reportage on these coded items, Fonash declares that “without using any words, Steinbeck transmits the dynamic presence of all things Stalin in his text as being monolithic, immovable presences.” In addition, Fonash deciphers deeper significance in the revelations of reading A Russian Journal through the lens of thing theory: “There is no ‘now’ for the people, for the ‘now’ belongs to the unceasing presence of Stalin and the state represented by things. This . . . major premise in Steinbeck’s travel narrative . . . unveil[s] the unhealthy, backward-looking stasis among the Soviet people while it underscores the progressive nature of America and its reading public.”In “Disappearing Out of Existence: An Examination of Identity in East of Eden,” Jennifer Ren examines the character of Cathy Ames through the lenses of psychology and Steinbeck’s writing process. Cathy, a “monstrosity . . . [that] begins and ends innocently,” is able to apply the concept of timshel—the power to choose good over evil—to define her form of “monstrosity”: “Cathy believes that she has somehow separated some part of herself from her despicable actions. She believes that she has created a hardened exterior that blocks out all of life’s impurities.” In carrying out her “purpose in life . . . to show seemingly normal people the monster within,” Ren argues that Cathy “exhibits the dishonorable characteristics she is trying to expose.” Ren observes that in his writings about and the creation of this character, Steinbeck stressed that she is problematic as well as enigmatic. “Throughout East of Eden, Journal of a Novel, and A Life in Letters, Steinbeck hints that Cathy’s monstrosity is recognizable, understandable, and believable because everyone has the potential to become Cathy.” Ren attributes the survival of Cathy (later called Kate) to her connection to two Alices. It comes as no surprise that Cathy identifies with Lewis Carroll’s heroine. Much as Alice in Wonderland could accept the “Drink me” offer to gain or lose height, Cathy proves deft at either disappearing or wielding power in the interest of survival. The other Alice that Ren believes is connected to Cathy is Alice Trask, Cyrus’s second wife and a minor character in East of Eden. Arguably damaged because of expectations imposed on her at an early age, Cathy may envy Alice Trask’s ability to “retreat into the world of her mind because people have few expectations for her.” Unlike Cathy, she can “blend in and disappear.”The first article in the intercalary section features one of Steinbeck’s most frequently anthologized short stories as the focus of Robin DeMerell Provey’s “Steinbeck’s ‘The Chrysanthemums’: Elisa Still Hoes the Long Row to Parity.” Here she analyzes in depth the character of Elisa Allen and maintains that her challenges in seeking self-actualization are still shared by women in the twenty-first century. Provey has high praise for Steinbeck’s characterization of the story’s protagonist: “John Steinbeck created in Elisa an everywoman, a representation of most women who spend their lives living in a culturally assigned feminine role yet yearn for something more.” Provey points out Steinbeck’s recognition of Elisa’s self-image conflicts between traditional womanhood (in her case devotion to her husband and flower garden) versus the strength and assertiveness she would like to express in the outside world. The imagery in this short story—“from weather to chrysanthemums”—underscores the “frustrations that exist in the very nature of being a woman.” While Steinbeck’s story sends a clear message that illuminates the limitations placed on women in the early part of the twentieth century, Provey declares that at the same time, the author “opens the door for gender equality by revealing the anguish of a woman who lives her life under the confines of gender role constructs” and “gives hopes that where there is desire, there is determination.” By presenting contemporary gender-based statistical data on education, employment, wage gaps, and representation in government, Provey argues that Eliza Allen’s battles for validation and recognition continue to be fought by women in our own times.In the next intercalary piece, “Provisions for Seven: Discovering Carol on the Sea of Cortez,” Liz Heinecke recounts her research efforts in preparation for writing a novel about Carol Henning Steinbeck’s participation in the excursion chronicled in Steinbeck’s 1941 travel narrative Sea of Cortez. Heinecke comments on Carol’s almost complete absence from the published text: “John erased Carol from his narrative of the trip and she herself left behind no account.” She adds that “the only clues to [Carol’s] presence on the boat were an extra piece of pie and mention of provisions for seven crew members, rather than six.” Despite the paucity of references to Carol in Steinbeck’s text, Heinecke uncovers “many other threads to choose from when telling [Carol’s] story. Ed Ricketts, Sparky Enea, and Tex Travis all wrote and spoke freely about the part Carol played on the Western Flyer—collecting invertebrates, partying, and embracing life passionately, while her marriage fell apart.” After tracing her research through traditional channels—interviews with scholars, publications, and archival material (most notably a tape of Carol’s voice)—Heinecke shares her experience in what is undoubtedly the highlight of her journey to prepare for her novel—a National Geographic–sponsored cruise to the Sea of Cortez.Kimberly Parrott’s “The Ruin of ‘Best-Laid Plans’: Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men and Yates’s Revolutionary Road” offers a comparative study of a significant 1937 novella and a 1961 novel. Drawing on the tenets of New Historicism, Parrott details how both of these works portray the “anti–American Dream,” defined here as “failed American aspirations that range from the longing for home, independence, and equal rights, to the need for humane treatment of all.” Although these two works are set in eras with dissimilar concerns (the Great Depression vs. technological advances / McCarthyism), Parrott states that in both of these settings, “American issues become personal issues to the characters and are reflected in the settings described.” She pays particular attention to characters representing marginalized populations of gender and race. “Curley’s unnamed wife” in Of Mice and Men is compared to Revolutionary Road’s April Wheeler, whose respective deaths are closely linked to society’s “suppression” of women’s personal and professional aspirations. Parrott also observes parallels between Of Mice and Men’s Crooks, the physically handicapped Black stable worker segregated from the white laborers on the ranch, and Revolutionary Road’s John Givings. Givings, a former educator, “whose struggles with social interaction and . . . lack of verbal filters” might earn him a diagnosis of Asperger’s syndrome today, receives dozens of debilitating electroshock treatments. Parrott interprets such outcomes as a “betrayal of the dreams and freedoms associated with the founding of the United States” and as examples of what can happen when “capitalistic hegemony suppresses human aspirations.”Finally, in “Steinbeck Today,” Kathleen Hicks commemorates 2023 as the sixtieth anniversary of John Steinbeck’s Nobel Prize for literature, a year in which “echoes of his work . . . persist in popular culture and press as people . . . hearken back to his works to make sense of the trials in our contemporary moment.” She reports The Washington Post’s publication of an article by Charles Edel, who discusses Steinbeck’s The Moon Is Down (1941) as an inspirational text that “helps us understand the perseverance and determination that bolsters the Ukrainians’ tenacious resistance and fight for their freedom.” A “lost” Steinbeck essay titled “How About McCarthyism?” was published in the October 2022 edition of The Strand magazine. Originally published in French sixty-eight years ago in Le Figaro Littéraire, the article argues for the necessity of “challenges, such as McCarthyism, to test and strengthen” America’s democracy in the face of such societal temptations as “complacency, abundance, and leisure.” Also, Steinbeck memorabilia continues to appear as auction items, with Steinbeck’s tender letter to his son on the subject of first love selling to a collector for over $32,000. Steinbeck’s Sag Harbor, Long Island, New York residence is up for sale for $13.5 million, with local civic groups dedicated to preserving its artistic legacy. And author Jacqueline Woodson was the recipient of the 2022 John Steinbeck “In the Souls of the People” Award, presented at San José State University.The 2021–22 Steinbeck bibliography, book reviews, a significant note, and a poem are also featured in this issue of Steinbeck Review. Peter Van Coutren, with Courtney Westergren, has assembled a selected bibliography of full-length volumes, book chapters, doctoral dissertations, master’s theses, scholarly journal research, print/online articles, and book reviews published during 2021–22. In his review of Robert DeMott’s Steinbeck’s Imaginarium: Essays on Writing, Fishing, and Other Critical Matters, Kevin Hearle praises the book as “rewarding” and “conducive to rereading.” He salutes the “spirit of generosity” DeMott extends toward aspiring Steinbeck scholars within this volume: “graduate students and junior faculty members looking to make careers in Steinbeck scholarship could do far worse than read this book strategically for Bob’s multiple hints about which large-scale editorial projects related to Steinbeck remain unclaimed.” Hearle declares that DeMott’s “valedictory address to Steinbeck scholarship” has value and innovation in its advocacy of a “participatory method of reading Steinbeck’s works—especially of Cannery Row—in which we as the community of Steinbeck scholars recognize the indeterminacy built into Steinbeck’s work.” And Cecilia Donohue reviews Gavin Jones’s Reclaiming John Steinbeck: Writing for the Future of Humanity, hailing this book’s presentation of “timely and relevant perspectives by which contemporary readers and scholars can appreciate and interpret” Steinbeck’s body of work. Granting equal attention to both frequently and rarely taught writings in Steinbeck’s oeuvre from the period 1932 to 1945 (aka the California years), Jones argues for Steinbeck’s continued relevance by interweaving the “lenses of traditional literary theory” with more contemporary methods of interpretation grounded in “ecocriticism, animal/humane studies, disability studies, and media criticism.” Donohue believes that Jones’s updated readings, with their sharp foci on contemporary issues, will make reading this text a valuable and informative experience for Steinbeck readers, educators, and scholars at all levels.Based on one line in The Grapes of Wrath (1939), in a significant note titled “Doubting Thomas Joad,” Thomas Scharnhorst calls for an addition to the list of elements of “biblical symbolism” in The Grapes of Wrath (1939). And poetry returns to Steinbeck Review in this issue with Margaret Stetz’s thought-provoking and empathetic “Of Rabbits and Men,” in which she draws on early memories of her response to reading Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men.In his announcements, Daniel Lanza Rivers reports on the International Steinbeck Conference, “Reading, Teaching, and Translating Steinbeck,” that was hosted at San José State University, March 22–24, 2023. Included also are opportunities for research, an announcement of a Woody Guthrie exhibit, and a report on the Steinbeck Letters Project.The Fall 2023 issue of Steinbeck Review will feature Barbara A. Heavilin and Charles Etheridge’s overview of Steinbeck biographies, with special emphasis on the four major ones: Jackson J. Benson’s John Steinbeck, Writer, with its emphasis on the essence of Steinbeck as shown in his compelling impulse to write; Jay Parini’s John Steinbeck, with its motif of the writer’s longing for home; Susan Shillinglaw’s Carol and John Steinbeck: Portrait of a Marriage, with its informative overview of the influence of his first wife, Carol, and the prestigious group that composed their circle; and William Souder’s Mad at the World: A Life of John Steinbeck, with its coverage of aspects of Steinbeck’s life that are interpreted to fit his title’s thesis. Viewing these biographers’ search for the essence of Steinbeck in tandem should prove to be of interest to scholars also seeking a better understanding and appreciation of this writer. Just as Benson so astutely informs us that Steinbeck was always creating “something entirely new”—as in Travels with Charley and Winter of Our Discontent—so the other biographers bring their own warp and take to their perspective of this writer. This essay will address these differing, but complementary, perspectives.Steinbeck Review warmly welcomes William P. Childers to the editorial board. An associate professor of Spanish at Brooklyn College and CUNY Graduate Center, he is the author of Transnational Cervantes (Toronto, 2006), winner of the MLA’s Katherine Singer Kovacs award. With Ignacio Pulido, he coedited La Inquisición vista desde abajo (Iberoamericana/Vervuert, 2020).We wish to welcome William Souder to the editorial board. He is a journalist and author. His work has appeared in many newspapers and magazines, including the Washington Post, the New York Times, Harper’s, Inc., the Minneapolis Star Tribune, and Slate.com. He is the author of four books: A Plague of Frogs (2000); Under A Wild Sky (2004), which was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in Biography; On a Farther Shore (2012), a New York Times Notable Book and one of Kirkus Reviews’ Top 25 Nonfiction Books of 2012; and Mad at the World: A Life of John Steinbeck (2020), winner of the Los Angeles Times’ Book Prize in Biography and one of Publishers Weekly’s Best Books of 2020 in Nonfiction.