New York Times Preview Praises Mad at the World; Bookpage.com Agrees

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Although Mad at the World: A Life of John Steinbeck won’t be released until October 13, a pair of publications with literary reach have picked William Souder’s scholarly new Steinbeck biography out of their fall lineup in previews that bode well for the book’s reception by readers. Writing in the September 24 New York Times, Joumana Khatib praised the balance, scope, and timeliness of the first full-length life of John Steinbeck to appear in a generation:

A comprehensive new biography of America’s best-known novelist of the Great Depression arrives at a timely moment. Though Steinbeck’s books remain his most significant literary output, Souder also dives into Steinbeck’s life as a journalist, including overseas postings during World War II and the Vietnam War, and how they shaped his worldview. And he doesn’t shy away from Steinbeck’s vices — philandering, heavy drinking — along with the feelings of inferiority that haunted him throughout his career.

A Life for Our Time of “the Novelist for Our Time”

In an October 2020 Bookpage.com feature post, reviewer Harry L. Carrigan agreed with Khatib’s assessment. “John Steinbeck just might be the novelist for our time,” Carrigan concluded, and “as vibrantly illuminated by Mad at the World,” Steinbeck’s reputation for relevance is rooted in a pair of works he said he felt compelled to write as a warning to his sons and country:

In his sprawling epic The Grapes of Wrath, he captured Americans’ peculiar yearning for a life not their own, the promise of wealth beyond the veil of desolation and the wretched impossibility of such a promise. Steinbeck’s other epic, East of Eden, illustrates the ragged desperation of human nature, wreaking destruction rather than carrying hope. William Souder’s bracing Mad at the World: A Life of John Steinbeck vividly portrays the brooding and moody writer who could never stop writing and who never fit comfortably into the society in which he lived.

Nancy Ricketts Recalls Life in John Steinbeck’s Shadow

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Nancy Ricketts, the daughter of John Steinbeck’s collaborator and confidant Ed Ricketts, recalls growing up under Steinbeck’s shadow in pre-World War II Pacific Grove and Monterey in a recently published memoir, Becoming Myself: The Story of a Turbulent Youth. A professional archivist and confirmed Episcopalian (like Steinbeck and her father), she is the author of A Brief History of St. Peter’s-By-the-Sea, an historic Episcopal church in Sitka, Alaska, where she makes her home. Listen to her interview with KCAW News in Sitka, recorded on September 3, 2020, to learn more. (Nancy Ricketts will participate via video in the closing session of “Cannery Row Days”—a six-week series in celebration of Steinbeck, Ricketts, and the Cannery Row they created, on November 7, 2020.)

Archive photo of Nancy Ricketts courtesy Raven Radio Foundation.

John Steinbeck Helps Physicians Self-Heal

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“Using the Humanities to Help Heal”—an August 13, 2020 feature post by E.J. Iannelli—leads its report on an innovative program for post-graduate students in internal medicine at the University of Washington with the experience of Travis Hughes, a third year UW internal medicine resident in Spokane, Washington, who found an unexpected path to self-understanding in East of Eden, the 1952 novel John Steinbeck believed he was born to write. Encountering the “malformed soul” of Steinbeck’s character Cathy Ames for the first time during a “Daily Dose of Humanities” discussion session designed to help primary care physicians better understand their patients and themselves, Hughes said that Steinbeck’s case history of a sociopath with “no remorse and very little empathy” left him with an important lesson: “that I shouldn’t lose touch with my emotions.” Along with long distance medicine and COVID-19 pandemic protocols, “the adoption of electronic medical record (EMR) software has sterilized the emotional connection between medical professionals and their patients”—a connection which can be recovered by insights gained from art, music, and literature. “I find that I learn not only about shared human experience but also about the people that I work with based on the choices of art that they bring in,” says Hughes of the program. “It puts my heart and mind in a more generous, empathetic position. And it makes me think about what life is like as a patient. I’m not just seeing a lab value, I’m seeing a person who’s similar to me.” The program is the brainchild of Dr. Darryl Potyk (at left in photo, with internal medicine residents), the chief for medical education at UW’s school of medicine in Spokane, Washington.

Photo by Young Kwak courtesy of The Inlander.

John Steinbeck’s “Time at Discove” in England’s Camelot Country

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Watercolor painting of Discove Cottage by Betty Guy

“Bruton is the only spot in the world I have refused to see again since John died.”
– Elaine Steinbeck

Elaine Steinbeck’s comment in a 1992 letter to the artist Betty Guy refers to the time that she and her husband John Steinbeck spent at Discove Cottage in Bruton, Somerset, England, while he worked on his “reduction of Thomas Malory’s Morte d’Arthur to simple readable prose without adding or taking away anything.” The story behind the story of Steinbeck’s Arthurian quest started 80 years earlier, in California.

The Road from Castle Rock

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Photo of Castle Rock, “Steinbeck’s Camelot,” by David Laws

Steinbeck became fascinated with the legends of King Arthur and the Round Table after his Aunt Molly Martin presented him with a child’s version of the epic tales of chivalry and knighthood on his ninth birthday. He created a secret language based on Malory’s text and, with his sister Mary, played among the exotic eroded turrets of Castle Rock in Corral de Tierra, near Salinas, as their imaginary Camelot. Arthurian themes appeared in Cup of Gold, Tortilla Flat, Of Mice and Men, and many other writings. He began working on Arthur in earnest after completing The Short Reign of King Pippin IV in 1957, work that went through numerous false starts and iterations and consumed Steinbeck for the rest of his life. As late as 1965, in a letter to the actor Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Steinbeck wrote: “Perhaps you will remember that for at least thirty-five years, and maybe longer, I have been submerged in research for a shot at the timeless Morte d’Arthur. Now Intimations of Mortality warn me that if I am ever going to do it, I had better start right away, like next week.”

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Ultimately Steinbeck failed in his quest to transpose the music of Malory’s language for modern ears. Two unfinished draft manuscripts survive, one created in Somerset, the second written some years after his return. Initially concerned that it would detract from his reputation, Elaine relented to posthumous publication when she realized that her husband had incorporated references to his love for her. Edited by Chase Horton (owner of the Washington Square Bookstore in New York and a friend of his agent Elizabeth Otis), The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knight appeared in 1976. The volume includes an extensive appendix drawn from the author’s letters and journals.

In his correspondence, Steinbeck describes the heights of elation and the depths of despair he experienced while pursuing his search for artistic perfection.

In this correspondence, the writer describes the heights of elation and the depths of despair he experienced while pursuing his search for artistic perfection. One unwavering theme is the sense of joy and contentment in the simple lifestyle he enjoyed during the months spent researching and writing in Discove Cottage, near Bruton in Somerset, England, in 1959. The biographies of Steinbeck by Jackson J. Benson (The True Adventures of John Steinbeck, Writer) and Jay Parini (John Steinbeck: A Biography) recount Elaine’s recollection of a conversation with her husband during his final hours of life. He asked her, “What’s the best time we ever had together?” “The time at Discove,” they agreed. Parini quotes Elaine: “John had discovered something about himself in Discove Cottage.”’ Elaine never returned to Discove, but she remained friendly with the owner, Mrs. Kay Leslie, and she visited the Leslies several times after they sold the cottage to Mr. and Mrs. David Whigham in 1977. Perhaps recalling her husband’s disappointing return to Monterey as recounted in Travels with Charley, Elaine did not wish to disturb the memories of their idyllic sojourn in that humble rural cottage.

Exploring England’s Camelot Country

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Photo of King Arthur’s Round Table at Winchester Castle by David Laws

During 1957 and 1958, the Steinbecks traveled Europe in search of original material. John researched in the Vatican libraries in Rome as he believed Sir Thomas Malory had traveled to Italy as a mercenary. In England they met with Professor Eugene Vinaver, a scholar and authority on the 15th century, and toured many Arthurian locations across the country, including Glastonbury Tor in Somerset, the heart of King Arthur Country, and the medieval replica of the Round Table at Winchester Castle. Stage and screenwriter Robert Bolt (A Man for All Seasons, Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago), who taught English at the nearby Millfield school, introduced them to other ancient English traditions, including cricket and the village pub.

‘I am depending on Somerset to give me the something new which I need,’ wrote Steinbeck.

hillman-estate-car-adIn July 1958, Steinbeck started work on the translation at his retreat in Sag Harbor, New York, but soon reached an impasse in his search for an appropriate “path or a symbol or an approach.” Believing that he could find this thread in England (“I am depending on Somerset to give me the something new which I need”), he and Elaine crossed the Atlantic again in February 1959. They landed at Plymouth, took delivery of a Hillman Minx estate car (station wagon), and drove to the ancient market town of Bruton. Here they rented Discove Cottage, located for them by Robert Bolt on the estate of Discove House. Steinbeck was so pleased with Bolt’s find that he presented him a gift of the complete thirteen-volume edition of the Oxford English Dictionary.

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Photo of Discove House by David Laws

Discove House is a Grade II Listed Building. The two-storey stone house features a projecting porch and a steep thatched roof between coped gables. Although it does exhibit earlier features, much of the structure dates from the 17th century. At 140 feet in length, the house is said to be the longest thatched residence in England. Steinbeck called it an “old manor house,” but Discove was more likely the dower house for the nearby Redlynch Estate of the Earls of Ilchester. A dower house is a residence reserved for the widow when an entailed estate passes on to the older son.

Discove Cottage is a former farm laborer’s dwelling hidden from the road in the fields behind the main house.

Discove Cottage is a former farm laborer’s dwelling hidden from the road in the fields behind the main house. It has two bedrooms upstairs and a kitchen-dining room and a living room downstairs. According to Steinbeck, “It has stone walls three feet thick and a deep thatched roof and is very comfortable . . . . It is probable that it was the hut of a religious hermit. It’s something to live in a house that has sheltered 60 generations.”

The name Discove is believed to derive from a combination of the proper names Dycga or Diga and the Anglo-Saxon word for bedchamber or hut.

The name Discove is believed to derive from a combination of the proper names Dycga or Diga, used by monks 600-800 AD, and the Anglo-Saxon word cove, for bedchamber or hut. In the 1086 AD Doomsday Book of William the Conqueror, it is recorded as Dinescove. The surrounding area has been occupied since ancient times. A possible barrow, or Neolithic burial chamber, has been identified at Redlynch, and a tessellated pavement from the Roman era, 1,000 years before the Conqueror, was uncovered at Discove in 1711.

‘We are right smack in the middle of Arthurian Country.’ wrote Steinbeck. ‘And I feel that I belong here. I have a sense of relaxation I haven’t known for years. Hope I can keep it for a while.’

The Steinbecks settled into rural life quickly. “Elaine is seeding Somerset with a Texas accent,” wrote Steinbeck. “She’s got Mr. Windmill of Bruton saying you-all. At the moment, she is out in the gallant little Hillman calling on the vicar.” As for the task at hand, “If ever there was a place to write the Morte, this is it. Ten miles away is the Roman fort, which is the traditional Camelot. We are right smack in the middle of Arthurian Country. And I feel that I belong here. I have a sense of relaxation I haven’t known for years. Hope I can keep it for a while.”

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Site of Cadbury Castle, Somerset, England

“Yesterday I cut dandelions in the meadow and we cooked them for dinner last night—delicious,” Steinbeck reported. “And there’s cress in the springs on the hill. But mainly there’s peace—and a sense of enough time.” The praise approached mysticism. “I can’t describe the joy. In the mornings I get up early to have time to listen to the birds. It’s a busy time for them. Sometimes for over an hour I do nothing but look and listen and out of this comes a luxury of rest and peace and something I can only describe as in-ness. And then when the birds have finished and the countryside goes about its business, I come up to my little room to work. And the interval between sitting and writing grows shorter every day.” Elaine agreed: “John’s enthusiasm and excitement are authentic and wonderful to see. I have never known him to have such a perfect balance of excitement in work and contentment in living in the ten years I have known him.”

The grail of modern translation may have eluded Steinbeck, but the months at Discove had been wonderful: ‘this has been a good time—maybe the best we have ever had.’

The idyll was broken in May when Otis and Horton told Steinbeck that they were disappointed with the first section of the manuscript he had submitted to his agents in New York. “To indicate that I was not shocked would be untrue,” replied Steinbeck. “I was.” For the rest of the summer, Steinbeck struggled but failed to find his voice. In September he wrote, “Our time here is over and I feel tragic about it. . . . The subject is so much bigger than I am. It frightens me.” The grail of modern translation may have eluded Steinbeck, but the months at Discove had been wonderful: “this has been a good time—maybe the best we have ever had.”

Discovering Discove Decades After Steinbeck

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Photo of Discove Cottage by David Laws

While visiting friends in the west of England in 2005, my wife and I took a detour to Bruton to see if the cottage still looked as Steinbeck described it. On a cold, wet English October day, the Whighams welcomed us to morning coffee in the richly carved oak-paneled living room of Discove House, their home. The prior owner, Mrs. Leslie, had advised them of the estate’s literary connection. They told us that a crew from the BBC had filmed the cottage several years before for a Steinbeck documentary. They also recounted a bit of the house’s post-Norman history, including the addition of the “new” wing in 1750 to accommodate Lady Ilchester, who did not wish to return to Redlynch in the dark after her weekly bridge game.

It may be a little worse for wear, but the narrow iron gate in the boundary hedge remains. On pushing it open and strolling in the quiet of the enclosed garden, I immediately sensed the peace and contentment that fills those letters of half a century ago.

I gave David Whigham a copy of the National Steinbeck Center visitor guide that features the painting of Discove Cottage by Betty Guy. Steinbeck’s editor, Pascal Covici, had commissioned her to visit Bruton to paint the cottage as a Christmas gift for the Steinbecks in 1959. Seeing the thatched roof in the picture, the Whighams noted that it had been replaced with tiles before they acquired the building. During a pause in the rain, we walked across the lush green meadow to the cottage. The small wooden porch over the front door was gone, and the fledgling cypress tree in the 1959 painting towered over the house in 2005. It may be a little worse for wear, but the narrow iron gate in the boundary hedge remains. On pushing it open and strolling in the quiet of the enclosed garden, I immediately sensed the peace and contentment that fills those letters of half a century ago.

I was delighted to learn that this was the table upon which a literary giant crafted his evocative letters extolling the joys of ‘the time at Discove’ all those decades ago.

steinbeck-table-bruton-museumDavid mentioned that he and his wife had acquired all the furniture with the cottage. Mrs. Leslie had told him that it included a work desk and other items purchased by Steinbeck. I was most curious about a table-top draftsman’s board manufactured by Admel Drafting Equipment and supplied by Lawes Rabjohns Ltd. of Westminster. On our return to California, I found several references to the table in Steinbeck’s correspondence with Chase Horton. On April 25, 1959, he wrote, “My table-top tilt board came. Makes a draftsman’s table of a card table. My neck and shoulders don’t get so damned tired.” I contacted Betty Guy in San Francisco to ask if she had noticed a table when she was invited to the writer’s room to sketch from the window. She said she had: “When John asked me up to his room he showed me his slanted work table, so it must have been the draftsman’s table.” I was delighted to learn that this was the table upon which a literary giant crafted his evocative letters extolling the joys of “the time at Discove” all those decades ago. Steinbeck’s work table is currently on display in the Bruton Museum.

This article has been adapted by the author from a version originally published in the Fall 2006 issue of Steinbeck Review. Unless otherwise noted, all quotations attributed to Steinbeck are from The Acts of King Arthur and his Noble Knights, ed. Chase Horton (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1976), and Steinbeck: A Life in Letters, ed. Elaine Steinbeck and Robert Wallsten (New York: Viking, 1975).

Like Steinbeck, Short Stories By Michael Katakis Show How Dangerous Men Can Be

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John Steinbeck said Montana was the state he’d pick to live in if he hadn’t been born in California, or become a citizen of the world who now called Manhattan home. In the early short stories of The Pastures of Heaven (1932) and The Long Valley (1938), the author of The Grapes of Wrath and East of Eden showed how vast spaces, violent events, and the struggles of victims and villains conspire to make good men dangerous and dangerous men deadly, stripping the veneer off civilization to expose the coarseness, and the fineness, of the essential human grain. Like Steinbeck, the American writer Michael Katakis can claim global citizenship (Carmel, Paris, London), international connections (as a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society and executor for Hemingway’s literary estate), and—as demonstrated in his latest book, Dangerous Men—an ability to transpose personal loss (the tragic death of his young wife, the anthropologist Kris L. Hardin) into a particularized locale (rural Montana) as remote from most readers’ experience as Hemingway’s Pamplona or Steinbeck’s Big Sur.

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Dangerous Men is Michael’s first work of fiction, and “Hunter’s Moon”—the most nakedly autobiographical of the interconnected short stories in the collection—was written in Montana 16 years ago, long before Kris died from a brain tumor. Much of the rest of the writing was done over coffee or an appertif at a Paris-boulevard café, in a process of self-recovery that one doubts is finished, or ever will be. The result is a work whose dark tone and deadly theme are announced in the epigraph from The Pastures of Heaven that opens “The Fence,” the first story; the second, “Home for Christmas,” ends with a bitter reversal worthy of O’Henry, or the occasional Steinbeck. The remaining stories recount the revenge odyssey of a wandering hero with the wonderful name of Walter Lesser, a latter-day cowboy and Gary Cooper lookalike who ends up, like Tom Joad, as a larger-than-life legend. Raja Shehadeh, the author of Palestinian Walks: Notes on a Vanishing Landscape (2008), has described Dangerous Men as “a work of great sensitivity and lyrical beauty.” For fans of John Steinbeck, the Montana short stories of Michael Katakis are also a form of continuing communion with the spirit of The Pastures of Heaven—a place where violent events play out against vast spaces under the sign of the Hunter’s Moon. Highly recommended for Steinbeck readers and others safe-sheltering from the dangerous men in Washington, D.C.

Hunter’s Moon photograph courtesy of the Daily Express.

After Travels with Charley, Pittsburgh Newspaper Journalist Finds Staying Home with COVID-19 Easy

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I’m a very lucky man.

Living in an old money-pit at the top of a hill in the woods and having no neighbors was always a sweet deal for an underpaid Pittsburgh newspaper journalist.

But in the medical and political madness of our times, they have become priceless gifts.

When summer is in full swing my 12 acres are ridiculously green and lush. I like to say it’s like being in Vietnam, but I have no idea what I’m talking about because I dodged that jungled corner of the world half a century ago.

On any given morning here in Western Pennsylvania, my Montana-raised wife Trudi and I can look out one of our 20 oversized windows and see a Disneyland of birds, chipmunks, rabbits, squirrels, groundhogs, and deer. In the spring and fall, wild turkeys parade past my house. Where they spend their summers I don’t know.

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Birds are everywhere. They wake us up at dawn and dart through the under-story all day. Turkey vultures circle silently above our 1938 vintage metal roof. Robins and doves have built nests in the crooks of our rain gutters. Woodpeckers have drilled holes in our ancient redwood siding for their homes.

The young Rough-Legged Hawk that flashed by our kitchen window and snatched a baby dove from its nest last month has moved on to tougher prey. At night we hear the local gang of coyotes howling and yapping, but during the day they are as invisible as the owls hooting somewhere in the dark.

Living in the woods in an old house means coexisting with nature—literally. It’s not just spiders, ants, and stink bugs. At one time or another, our uninvited house-guests have included birds, bats, frogs, toads, mice, snakes, and a teen-age raccoon who came in a kitchen window and thought it could live behind the cereal boxes.

During our pandemic and national shutdown, I’m even more blessed to be living in Penn’s Woods. For some strange reason unknown to the disease experts Pittsburgh and the western half of the state were spared the worst of the COVID-19.

In my largely rural, natural gas-fracking county 20 miles south of Pittsburgh, where 220,000 Flyover People live, we’ve had six deaths from COVID-19. Philly on the East Coast was hit hard, but there have been fewer than 200 deaths in Allegheny County, where Pittsburgh and 1.3 million Steelers-worshippers are located. More than half of the area’s COVID-19 deaths have been in nursing homes and, like everywhere else, only a handful have been under 70.

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Despite Pittsburgh’s relative good luck, the governor’s sweeping shutdown of the state quickly ended my career as a weekend Uber driver. As a worker in the transportation sector, I was deemed by the people in charge to be essential. But closing downtown offices, restaurants, bars, sporting events, and all nightlife in mid-March wiped out 90 percent of Uber’s customers. The evidence—two leased vehicles that rarely leave—sits in our driveway.

Miraculously, my potential financial disaster turned into a windfall when 1099-contract workers whose jobs were wiped out by COVID-19 were made eligible to receive $600 a week under the federal Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security (CARES) Act.

I wish I could say I’ve been using my government-paid vacation to write another book or catch up on my Cicero or Saroyan. But mostly I’ve been mowing my weedy token lawn, playing golf twice a week, and wasting time ranting and raving about political things I can do nothing about on Facebook and Twitter.

But I haven’t been a total bum for three months.

I’ve been trying to get Hollywood interested in my tragically overlooked 1948 Jim Crow history book, 30 Days a Black Man, which I hope Netflix will make into a series co-starring Jeff Daniels and Denzel Washington.

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On my website I posted the original newspaper series in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette that 30 Days is based on. In 1948, star newspaperman Ray Sprigle collaborated with the NAACP of Walter White and pretended to be a black man in the Deep South for a month.

Sprigle shocked the oblivious white North with his angry, powerful, nationally syndicated account of the oppression, discrimination, and humiliation 10 million blacks suffered every day under Old Jim Crow. Sadly, his mostly forgotten series about life in America’s apartheid is timely as hell.

And oh yeah.

I also put together a small Kindle book called Chasing Steinbeck’s Ghost, which is a time-and-place-line of the 10,000-mile road trip Steinbeck took in the fall of 1960 for Travels with Charley.

Ten years ago in September I retraced Steinbeck’s route as faithfully and accurately as possible for what became my 2013 nonfiction book Dogging Steinbeck.

The Chasing Steinbeck’s Ghost timeline is as accurate as I could make it. It includes a bunch of photos I took of such things as Steinbeck’s Sag Harbor home, the trendy places he hung out at in San Francisco, and the big ranch in Texas where he and Elaine spent Thanksgiving.

There also are a few excerpts pulled from Dogging Steinbeck about some of the many fictions and fibs Steinbeck and his editors at Viking Press slipped into what until I came along 50 years later was marketed and taught as a work of nonfiction.

I hope my little guide doesn’t ruin the fun for others who want to follow Steinbeck’s tire tracks. Traveling around the USA to see America and meet Americans—post-COVID 19, of course—is a road trip everyone should experience at least once.

Supreme Court May Decide Who Owns Creative Rights to the Works of John Steinbeck

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The latest installment of the long-running saga over who owns creative rights to the works of John Steinbeck is on the way to the U.S. Supreme Court according to Steven Todd Lowe, an entertainment attorney who serves as president of the California Society of Entertainment Lawyers, the organization which has filed a friend-of-the-court brief in support of the lawsuit brought by the estate of John Steinbeck’s son, Thom Steinbeck, against that of Waverly Kaffaga, the daughter of John Steinbeck’s third wife, Elaine Steinbeck. Steinbeck fans familiar with Bleak House but confused about the Dickensian issues involved in the Steinbeck family feud may seek clarity by reading “Steinbeck Family Battle Appealed to Supreme Court”—the June 26, 2020 blog post in which Lowe attempts to explain “the somewhat complicated fact pattern and salient legal issues” surrounding the ongoing Jarndyce v. Jarndyce drama.

Photo of Charles Dickens courtesy Britannica.com.

John Steinbeck, COVID-19, And Facing Homelessness

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What would John Steinbeck have to say about the COVID-19 crisis? What would he focus on? I think it would be the plight of the homeless in places like San Francisco and Los Angeles, teeming with people struggling to survive without shelter or support.

Sleepless in Los Angeles, Cold in San Francisco

I was “homeless” several times in Los Angeles. I don’t pretend it was a big deal. I was young. I could have returned to my family in the Midwest. And there wasn’t a virus on the loose threatening death. But I had a taste of what it was like to sleep on beaches and park benches on cold nights, amidst dangers real and imagined. One night I woke to a gang fight going on nearby and decided it would be just as easy to be homeless in San Francisco as Los Angeles. Putting everything I owned in a battered leather suitcase, I hitchhiked north toward San Francisco, stopping along the way in Monterey, a town I had never seen. It would be my first real exposure to John Steinbeck, beginning with the Monterey Public Library, a display of Steinbeck’s books in the window attracting me.

I had a taste of what it was like to sleep on beaches and park benches on cold nights, amidst dangers real and imagined.

I picked a copy of Of Mice and Men off the shelves. As the homeless do to this day—or once did, since libraries are currently closed across much of the country, making a huge difference in the lives of the homeless—I could get warm while reading. George and Lennie’s story is set in South Monterey County, which I had passed through that morning. I read till the library closed, lingering over passages as I do when something moves me. George and Lennie were, after all, in a way homeless too.

I picked a copy of Of Mice and Men off the shelves. I could get warm by reading.

Then I walked down a street called Calle Principal, leading to an old building with a sign reading “Hotel San Carlos.” I stood out front with my leather suitcase wishing I had enough money for a room. A man came along, and after talking he went into the hotel and convinced the desk clerk I should get a good deal on a room for the night. Decades later I would write a short story about John Steinbeck and his wife Carol and that raffish old hotel. Writing from my memories of that lonely evening in Monterey, it was easy to set the scene, back in the 1930s: “They made their way clumsily down Calle Principal toward the hotel . . . which was in the Spanish style with a plaza and fountain. In the lobby a moth flit from lamp to lamp . . . .“

I stood out front with my leather suitcase wishing I had enough money for a room.

The area intrigued me. In the morning I walked along the shoreline to the town of Pacific Grove, then hitchhiked the six or so miles to the Carmel Mission. The room at the San Carlos no longer available and having money for only food and cigarettes (yes, I smoked), I hitched on to San Francisco that evening. I learned The City is a harder place to be homeless than Los Angeles because it is colder, especially when the sea wind blows in from the bay. After several days meeting “partially homeless” people like myself, I hitched my way back to Los Angeles.

The City is a harder place to be homeless than Los Angeles because it is colder.

I was going to write about other homeless experiences in Los Angeles—having my clothes locked up because I owed rent at the Mark Twain hotel, which I chose because I’m from Missouri . . . sleeping at night under a golf course tree, caddying during the days to earn money . . . having a car for a time, parking it on Santa Monica beaches and bathing in the ocean . . . on a foggy night pulling over to sleep on Mulholland Drive, discovering at sunrise that only a few feet separated the car and me from a plunge into the San Fernando Valley . . . savoring the warmth of sitting in class at Los Angeles City College after cleaning up in the school’s lavatory.

What I Learned from Being (Briefly) Homeless

But when it comes down to it, I simply owe a lot to being briefly homeless. It introduced me to the Monterey Peninsula. John Steinbeck’s Pacific Grove eventually became my new home, the place where my wife Nancy and I raised our daughters Amy and Anne. I wrote for the Monterey Herald, learning more about Steinbeck from a soulful city editor named Jimmy Costello. Jimmy had been Steinbeck’s friend and told me of the incident at the Hotel San Carlos. He had been there. The Carmel Mission I’d hitchhiked to from Monterey became the site for the premiere of one of my plays. And I was honored to co-curate, with Patricia Leach, the inaugural art exhibition at the National Steinbeck Center in nearby Salinas. It was called This Side of Eden: Images of Steinbeck’s California, and the works on display included several depictions of homelessness, among them Maynard Dixon’s prophetically titled “No Place to Go.” Unfortunately, the subject of the painting is just as relevant today as it was in the 1930s.

I wrote for the Monterey Herald and learned more about Steinbeck from a soulful city editor named Jimmy Costello.

The greater irony for me is that the same Monterey Public Library which helped introduce me to the world of John Steinbeck recently asked if I would take part in a panel discussion on writing planned for late April. The event has been postponed, of course, because of the coronavirus. When it is rescheduled it will be a sign that that we have survived this latest test of our shared humanity—and that those living with homelessness can still count on libraries for warmth . . . as well as a good read.

COVID-19 Claims Steinbeck Colleague Terrence McNally

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Terrence McNally, the Tony Award-winning playwright who taught and babysat John Steinbeck’s boys when they were hard-to-manage teenagers, has died in Sarasota, Florida from complications of the COVID-19 virus which shuttered Broadway and much of the world’s business after being declared a pandemic by the World Health Organization. A survivor of lung cancer, McNally, 81, was a 20-something graduate student at Columbia University when Steinbeck family friend Edward Albee recommended him as a tutor and companion for Steinbeck’s sons Thom and John IV during an extended tour of Europe taken by the Steinbeck family 60 years ago. As noted in a March 24, 2020 profile of the playwright published in The Guardian, “McNally’s long career began in 1961 when John Steinbeck asked him to work together on a number of projects, including a musical version of East of Eden” which, like other projects following the failure of the 1955 musical Pipe Dream, never materialized.

Composite image of Terrence McNally courtesy New York Post.

Gavin Jones Revisits Steinbeck@Stanford

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If Gavin Jones had been a professor there 100 years ago, would John Steinbeck have stayed at Stanford University long enough to finish? Probably not, according to Jones, who addressed the fraught subject of Steinbeck@Stanford at the Stanford University Library on January 30. Jones—who holds the Frederick P. Rehmus Family Chair in Humanities in the Department of English—spoke to a capacity crowd of 200 at the evening event, which was sponsored by the Stanford Historical Society and included a pop-up exhibit from the library’s collection of Steinbeck manuscripts and memorabilia. Credited with contributing to the revival of campus interest in Steinbeck, who enrolled intermittently between 1919 and 1925, Jones used examples of Steinbeck’s early writing to show how Stanford’s emphasis on creativity, collaboration, and interdisciplinary learning shaped the character, context, and content of works like To a God Unknown and Cannery Row—manuscripts of which, in Steinbeck’s hard-to-read hand, were on display at the event. Although he left without earning a diploma and refused to accept an honorary degree, “Stanford was always on his mind,” said Jones. Assuming “the mythology of a misfit” early in his career, Steinbeck was a life-long experimenter whose insights into ecology, empathy, and eugenics—all shaped by Stanford—were, Jones added, ahead of their time and set him apart from literary figures like William Faulkner, who dropped out of Old Miss, and Ernest Hemingway, who skipped college to work as a reporter.