Book Ruminations 1: "East of Eden" by Steinbeck

Thursday, July 7, 2005

The slow, methodical droning of Steinbeck’s East of Eden has become familiar as I’ve made it a habit to listen to the CDs every day the past week. I don’t see how the story will ever end. The second generations of characters are growing old with the younger two generations having many glories and beauties to discover.

Rarely does a story have such long (not verbose, but chronologically lengthy) character development. We have seen Adam’s fall, and now the story looks forward to him regaining his strength. We doubt if it indeed will happen, but we can’t help but cheer quietly for the soft, gentle spirit of Adam to shine forth. This book seems ubiquitous and catholic because of its length. Our lives drone on, piece by piece, we get older each day, and we can chose to live feeding on past memories or to forge ahead and hope for better ones.

Lliza is a rock of morality and verity; however, we don’t sympathize with her tenacious, enduring spirit. Only her aging body will cause her to cry out for mercy, as she seems to have no other passions that admit a cry for help.

In contrast the heart of Samuel is deep and though he has not yet found water he will continue to search. His sardonic comment on the naming of Adam’s boys caught me by surprise. Something to the effect, “They join the fraternity. They have now earned the right to be damned.”

The cord that has struck me deepest in the story is the blindness that falls Adam as he falls for Kathy. He lives desiring to be of use, to be needed, and at last a helpless, beaten girl arrives on his doorsteps. He gives her all the love he never received. What is a rosebush without a mother gush of appreciation or a lover’s blush? Steinbeck says every man has periods where the glory falls and everything looks brighter. Reality doesn’t change, but we are unaware of the dark shadows of man’s loss of glory, for a while. Adam’s resolve when he "falls in love" is astounding. He gains new strength.

The will to move, to purchase a large estate, to plan for a garden and a fine house with wooden floors arises lightly and gaily from his vision of beauty. From a lounger with no desire to rise or work, will to conquer, to make a name, come forth.

He thought he could awaken the discheveled soul of Kathy. Should he be damned for trying? He recognized her soul as lonely, because he had learned that most everyone longs to be loved and to love, and it was not difficult to see that Kathy was alone. Yet he had no understanding of how distant the heart of Kathy was from the catholicity of this world. Kathy reveled in her individuality.

Samuel asks questions.

Lee asks questions.

Adam lets the questions of the world rock him.

Samuel asks the questions, but has the help of Lliza to remind him to keep those thoughts tamed, and to continue to work and to love; even to love the dry, rocky land.
Lliza asks no questions.

I like the way Samuel lived. He was a warrior. He battled the passions of a romantic love lost, and he patiently bore the daily round of being poor when his mind was weathier than anyone else’s in the county. His knowledge turned into wisdom and he became a man that knew another man. He became what in Orthodox Russia was known as a saret in an American, Salinas valley, sort of way. I doubt he could teach a man to pray, but who doesn’t long for a friend like Samuel? A man who will see our faults and have the courage to knock us down until we thank him for it.

I say good-bye to friends who flatter and smile; hello to those who chide and swing a compass by a chain.