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A review by calarco
East of Eden by John Steinbeck
5.0
Before reading East of Eden, I certainly had respect for Steinbeck as a great American author, but given his proclivity for presenting morality in at-times overly simplistic black and white diametric dichotomies, I found it hard to love him with the esteem everyone else seems to feel. That said, East of Eden is a torrent of gray that offers a vibrant snapshot of the human condition—it’s a pretty dang good novel.
“Maybe we all have a secret pond where evil and ugly things germinate and grow strong. But this culture is fenced, and the swimming brood climb up only to fall back. Might it not be that in the dark pools of some men the evil grows strong enough to wriggle over the fence and swim free? Would not such a man be our monster, and are we not related to him in our own hidden water? It would be absurd not to understand both angels and devils, since we invented them.” (132)
The very essence of what constitutes “good” and “evil” are Biblical social constructs passed down from generation to generation. Given the longevity of this tradition, these concepts can feel like primordial givens when in actuality they are but two choices in a larger range of possibilities. A person can inherit a shitty situation, and that is an unfortunate reality that must be acknowledged and respected, but beyond this we all have the free will to do better.
Following two generations of brothers from the Trask family, Steinbeck explores brotherhood through the lens of Cain and Abel from Genesis. While both sets of brothers are flawed humans trying their best, one is ultimately favored by their father which creates a dynamic of resentment and hurt that trickles down throughout the family lineage. Given that this tension is both inherited and self-perpetuated, there is a constant back and forth between what can feel like fate versus free-will.
“Some of our guilt is absorbed in our ancestry. What chance did we have? We are the children of our father. It means we aren’t the first. It’s an excuse, and there aren’t enough excuses in the world.” (267)
There is a great deal here that I found incredibly relatable. Adam and Lee both reminded me so much of my own father in different ways, that I know I in no way can objectively assess this piece of literature. When Lee states, “Please try not to need me. That’s the worst bait of all for a lonely man” (330), he basically hits the nail on the head of the motivation of most every single person in my family.
Steinbeck’s central thesis is a simple one—everyone just wants their parents to love them. When a person is denied this love, and a great many people sadly do go through life without this validation, it can snowball into generational trauma that is an inherently difficult cycle to break. That said, East of Eden made me feel so hopeful, and I am so happy that I finally read it. I could not recommend it more.
“Maybe we all have a secret pond where evil and ugly things germinate and grow strong. But this culture is fenced, and the swimming brood climb up only to fall back. Might it not be that in the dark pools of some men the evil grows strong enough to wriggle over the fence and swim free? Would not such a man be our monster, and are we not related to him in our own hidden water? It would be absurd not to understand both angels and devils, since we invented them.” (132)
The very essence of what constitutes “good” and “evil” are Biblical social constructs passed down from generation to generation. Given the longevity of this tradition, these concepts can feel like primordial givens when in actuality they are but two choices in a larger range of possibilities. A person can inherit a shitty situation, and that is an unfortunate reality that must be acknowledged and respected, but beyond this we all have the free will to do better.
Following two generations of brothers from the Trask family, Steinbeck explores brotherhood through the lens of Cain and Abel from Genesis. While both sets of brothers are flawed humans trying their best, one is ultimately favored by their father which creates a dynamic of resentment and hurt that trickles down throughout the family lineage. Given that this tension is both inherited and self-perpetuated, there is a constant back and forth between what can feel like fate versus free-will.
“Some of our guilt is absorbed in our ancestry. What chance did we have? We are the children of our father. It means we aren’t the first. It’s an excuse, and there aren’t enough excuses in the world.” (267)
There is a great deal here that I found incredibly relatable. Adam and Lee both reminded me so much of my own father in different ways, that I know I in no way can objectively assess this piece of literature. When Lee states, “Please try not to need me. That’s the worst bait of all for a lonely man” (330), he basically hits the nail on the head of the motivation of most every single person in my family.
Steinbeck’s central thesis is a simple one—everyone just wants their parents to love them. When a person is denied this love, and a great many people sadly do go through life without this validation, it can snowball into generational trauma that is an inherently difficult cycle to break. That said, East of Eden made me feel so hopeful, and I am so happy that I finally read it. I could not recommend it more.