Mr. Steinbeck

            In class, we have started a new book, The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. I have not read too far into it, but I can already tell why it has won so many awards: the way in which Steinbeck writes this telling tale is profound. He is able to weave words together so beautifully it seems it was meant to be. Furthermore, Mr. Steinbeck has a talent for describing an action or an object in such detail that it transcends the simplicity of the thing he is describing. Steinbeck is able to take an insignificant detail in the book, and word it in such a way that is truly remarkable.

The passage “The concrete highway was edged with a mat of tangled, broken, dry grass, and the grass heads were heavy with oat beards to catch on a dog’s coat, and foxtails to tangle in a horse’s fetlocks, and clover burrs to fasten in sheep’s wool; sleeping with life waiting to be spread and dispersed, every seed armed with an appliance of dispersal, twisting darts and parachutes for the wind, little spears and balls of tiny thorns, and all waiting for animals and for the wind, for a man’s trouser cuff or the hem of a woman’s skirt, all passive but armed with appliances of activity, still, but each possessed of the anlage of movement” (Steinbeck 20) illustrates the masterful way in which this iconic author can weave his words. It is remarkable the amount of detail he uses to describe the seemingly insignificant process of fertilization.

 Steinbeck utilizes multiple metaphors and an extremely long sentence structure in this specific excerpt to convey the mood of America during the Great Depression: long, drawn out, and exhausted. Everybody was depressed, worried, and beat. This description of a plant waiting for someone to pass by so it’s seeds can hook a ride is symbolic of America in the 1930’s. People were waiting for someone or something to come and save them; to transport their families to a better place so they could grow. Steinbeck clearly shows how imagery should be done to accurately describe something. I can only hope to be an ounce of the writer John Steinbeck was.