Steinbeck fans discussion
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The Log from the Sea of Cortez
Log from the Sea of Cortez
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Carol Steinbeck was also on this voyage, but John removes her completely from the narrative. I enjoyed the passages which you quote also - the book is a little patchy (IMHO), but there are some real gems there.
Mark wrote: "Carol Steinbeck was also on this voyage, but John removes her completely from the narrative. I enjoyed the passages which you quote also - the book is a little patchy (IMHO), but there are some real gems there."
I'm about halfway through. I see what you mean about patchy. Sometimes his descriptions of the collecting do get a bit listy. His chapter-long discussion of teleological versus non-teleological arguments is dry and unconvincing. But mostly, I'm enjoying this book very much.
Didn't know that about Carol Steinbeck. He does on occasion describe things that happen to 'one of us' rather than naming an individual. I wonder if there's a connection.
I've noticed that Steinbeck mentions Tiny, Sparky, Tex, and Tony - the boat crew, but he never mentions Ed Ricketts. A little past halfway through the book and I know no more of Ed Ricketts than of Carol Steinbeck.
Buck wrote: "Mark wrote: "Carol Steinbeck was also on this voyage, but John removes her completely from the narrative. I enjoyed the passages which you quote also - the book is a little patchy (IMHO), but the..."
I believe she is the person who made the pie referenced in the passage regarding the lemon pie dispute. Somewhere else I have read that the pie was the only thing she cooked on the trip, despite expectations that she would be the primary cook.
But indeed, she is never referred to by name.
"
I thoroughly enjoyed this book, savored the reading of it. It isn't perfect - there are some flat spots. But there are some gem passages, too. The Log from the Sea of Cortez is really two works: the expedition to the Gulf of California; and the posthumous homage to Steinbeck's friend, marine biologist Ed Ricketts. I found it odd that the narrative of the expedition, the Log written in 1940, never made a mention of Ed Ricketts. It's as if he wasn't even there.The Appendix: About Ed Ricketts, written years later, is pure Steinbeck. It is a true thing. Cannery Row was written before Ed Ricketts was killed. The character of Doc was openly based on Ricketts and the place of Cannery Row was the place Ricketts lived and worked. I wish I had read this book immediately after reading Cannery Row, or perhaps even before. Now I want to read Sweet Thursday, the sequel to Cannery Row, soon.
I don't think he is removed; it's more that the narrator is intended as a synthesis of Steinbeck and Ricketts. The "sunday sermon" - all that non-teleology stuff was jointly developed (but I believe that Steinbeck was largely responsible for the final draft).Carol, otoh, is quite deliberately absented. I seem to recall that Steinbeck had seen this as a last chance to rebuild his marriage. It failed.
"About Ed Ricketts" is a delight. IMHO.
I understand what you mean by "patchy." I'm only on page 60 and Steinbeck's lengthy scientific descriptions are already wearing on me — and my day job is conserving estuaries. I almost returned the book — but talk about gems. Steinbeck's preceding ode to Ed Ricketts is a joy to read, and I love the Sea-Cow as a supporting non-actor. I also like how Steinbeck evoked compassion for both the slain sea turtle and the spared dolphins. This is something with which every reader can relate, regardless of the waters he or she calls home.I think Steinbeck thought he could educate readers with his knowledge, and I'm sure he succeeded with a great many. But I fear far more likely shelved his book after suffering what I call "layman's fatigue". But this preceded today's best practice of writing for comprehension, so I'm sure he thought his way wise. In fact, he probably thought it would inspire the masses to leap into the surf with both feet.
Behold, the resurrection of the Western Flyer.No mention of the Sea-Cow. :/
http://www.montereyherald.com/arts-an...
We come now to a piece of equipment which still brings anger to our hearts and, we hope, some venom to our pen. Perhaps in self-defense against suit, we should say, “The outboard motor mentioned in this book is purely fictitious and any resemblance to outboard motors living or dead is coincidental.” We shall call this contraption, for the sake of secrecy, a Hansen Sea-Cow— a dazzling little piece of machinery, all aluminum paint and touched here and there with spots of red. The Sea-Cow was built to sell, to dazzle the eyes, to splutter its way into the unwary heart. We took it along for the skiff. It was intended that it should push us ashore and back, should drive our boat into estuaries and along the borders of little coves. But we had not reckoned with one thing. Recently, industrial civilization has reached its peak of reality and has lunged forward into something that approaches mysticism. In the Sea-Cow factory where steel fingers tighten screws, bend and mold, measure and divide, some curious mathematick has occurred. And that secret so long sought has accidentally been found. Life has been created. The machine is at last stirred. A soul and a malignant mind have been born. Our Hansen Sea-Cow was not only a living thing but a mean, irritable, contemptible, vengeful, mischievous, hateful living thing. In the six weeks of our association we observed it, at first mechanically and then, as its living reactions became more and more apparent, psychologically. And we determined one thing to our satisfaction. When and if these ghoulish little motors learn to reproduce themselves the human species is doomed. For their hatred of us is so great that they will wait and plan and organize and one night, in a roar of little exhausts, they will wipe us out. We do not think that Mr. Hansen, inventor of the Sea-Cow, father of the outboard motor, knew what he was doing. We think the monster he created was as accidental and arbitrary as the beginning of any other life. Only one thing differentiates the Sea-Cow from the life that we know. Whereas the forms that are familiar to us are the results of billions of years of mutation and complication, life and intelligence emerged simultaneously in the Sea-Cow. It is more than a species. It is a whole new redefinition of life. We observed the following traits in it and we were able to check them again and again:
1. Incredibly lazy, the Sea-Cow loved to ride on the back of a boat, trailing its propeller daintily in the water while we rowed.
2. It required the same amount of gasoline whether it ran or not, apparently being able to absorb this fluid through its body walls without recourse to explosion. It had always to be filled at the beginning of every trip.
3. It had apparently some clairvoyant powers, and was able to read our minds, particularly when they were inflamed with emotion. Thus, on every occasion when we were driven to the point of destroying it, it started and ran with a great noise and excitement. This served the double purpose of saving its life and of resurrecting in our minds a false confidence in it.
4. It had many cleavage points, and when attacked with a screwdriver, fell apart in simulated death, a trait it had in common with opossums, armadillos, and several members of the sloth family, which also fall apart in simulated death when attacked with a screwdriver.
5. It hated Tex, sensing perhaps that his knowledge of mechanics was capable of diagnosing its shortcomings.
6. It completely refused to run: (a) when the waves were high, (b) when the wind blew, (c) at night, early morning, and evening, (d) in rain, dew, or fog, (e) when the distance to be covered was more than two hundred yards. But on warm, sunny days when the weather was calm and the white beach close by— in a word, on days when it would have been a pleasure to row— the Sea-Cow started at a touch and would not stop.
7. It loved no one, trusted no one. It had no friends.
Perhaps toward the end, our observations were a little warped by emotion. Time and again as it sat on the stern with its pretty little propeller lying idly in the water, it was very close to death. And in the end, even we were infected with its malignancy and its dishonesty. We should have destroyed it, but we did not. Arriving home, we gave it a new coat of aluminum paint, spotted it at points with new red enamel, and sold it. And we might have rid the world of this mechanical cancer!
Steinbeck, John (1995-11-01). The Log from the Sea of Cortez (Penguin Classics) (pp. 19-20). Penguin Group US. Kindle Edition.
Later, I smiled at this passage:
We put the Sea-Cow on the stern and it made one of its few mistakes. It thought we were going directly to the beach instead of to the reef a mile away. It started up with a great roar and ran for a quarter of a mile before it became aware of its mistake. It was rarely fooled again. We rowed on to the reef.
ibid. p64