John Ernst Steinbeck was an American writer. He won the 1962 Nobel Prize in Literature "for his realistic and imaginative writings, combining as they do sympathetic humor and keen social perception". He has been called "a giant of American letters." During his writing career, he authored 33 books, with one book coauthored alongside Edward F. Ricketts, including 16 novels, six non-fiction books, and two collections of short stories. He is widely known for the comic novels Tortilla Flat (1935) and Cannery Row (1945), the multi-generation epic East of Eden (1952), and the novellas The Red Pony (1933) and Of Mice and Men (1937). The Pulitzer Prize–winning The Grapes of Wrath (1939) is considered Steinbeck's masterpiece and part of the American literary canon. By the 75th anniversary of its publishing date, it had sold 14 million copies. Most of Steinbeck's work is set in central California, particularly in the Salinas Valley and the California Coast Ranges region. His works frequently explored the themes of fate and injustice, especially as applied to downtrodden or everyman protagonists.
Apparently people consider this his most misogynistic story. Which I get, this character is pretty unbearable. But honestly I kind of love her. I think she represents what it’s like to accomplish your purpose, and what happens to the self after your original purpose is completed. You go a little crazy. There’s some shit about relationships somewhere in here, but I don’t care enough to dissect. Don’t date crazy.
I especially liked the part about crushing the snails. And where both characters a little messed up. It’s like the author is saying that everyone’s selfish, confused, incapable of sharing their own feelings truly, and definitely lonely. Or at least he probably is.
Gripping, beautiful. Mary Teller has the mind of a creative, Harry Teller has the mind of a worker.
Mary is also nutty than a fruitcake. She revels in control—be it her garden or the little ways she controls her husband.
Harry longs for a bit of control—his desire to get a dog, to understand his wife—and thus shoots the quail—his wife—subconciously, purposely, before burying it along with his feelings. Because that is what is expected.
Well that was a messed up story. The quail is me so he shoots the quail. Shorty story about what happens when two people spend all their time working towards their own goals not together. Of course, Henry was lonely. They didn’t build their life together. Story had biblical overtones with the perfect garden and the stray cat coming into the garden unwanted.
Psalm 105:40 "They asked, and he brought them quail; he satisfied them with the bread of heaven"
Painful really, and probably indicative of most relationships. Isn't there always a part of someone else upon which we want to stomp? Just a tad? Is it just me?