The Grapes of Wrath

The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck is like the first few chapters of the Book of Job, stretched to the length of the Book of Psalms. It's an enormous novel in terms of word count and influence, and one does not need to have read it to encounter pop-culture references to the Joad family of Oklahoma and their ill-fated trip west. I was prepared for the suffering, knowing some of this context. But I was still surprised that within the first few miles of travel, a dog and then a grandfather die off, and the tribulations continue unabated for the next 400 pages or so. 

I have always been uneasy with Steinbeck, feeling that he "tells" more than "shows" in his narratives, reversing the famous writerly advice. This works for ninth-grade novellas like The Pearl. It does not work as well for longer, more serious tomes. I don't know how The Grapes of Wrath is functionally different than Uncle Tom's Cabin, or books reviewed on this blog that hammer home a political agenda. There is no ambiguity about Steinbeck's position, and while I'm sympathetic to the cause, I am put off by the didactic fiction. It's too bad, because Steinbeck has a great talent for plot and setting, but his characters fit too neatly into their archetypes, and the themes are persistent and obvious. Having read the book, I find myself longing for that less patronizing literature, which has a more nuanced view of complicated political subjects, and trusts its reader to develop his or her own opinions.