East of Eden

East of Eden
by John Steinbeck
Published in 1952 by Penguin Classics

The artistry and craft of Steinbeck’s word-smithing is beyond exquisite. I know I am not the first person to say this, but I am just now getting around to reading this book, so I’m just now seeing this for myself.

How does one even begin to describe his voice, his poetic descriptions, his exploration of the human struggle and the effects of trauma and pain—inward and outward on the human psyche, soul, body, and the next generations? He asks questions, paints the land with words, and softens and fine tunes the vision of how one can see.

There were times when I became distracted by my own anger because of Steinbeck’s view of women. I found that he seemed to stereotype them, shrink them, expose their worst parts, portray them as objects through his descriptions, and round them out with clichés. This is probably my only complaint—and I worked myself away from the anger the more I read, even though my opinion remains.

East of Eden holds so many sentences and paragraphs that I wanted to sit with awhile for a conversation solely with the essence of the combined words. I could have easily eaten the written words as a complete meal for metabolizing in my mind.

I really appreciated the window that was opened for airing and the exploration into the time periods covered in this book… the time periods of my grandparents and great-grandparents—also his descriptions and observations of the times, land, inventions, processes, and the industrialization period.

What an opportunity this has been to read it mostly aloud, incorporate it into conversations with Scott, and anticipate an evening or weekend afternoon of reading this work of art together.

East of Eden was the January book chosen for our apartment complex book club.