‘East of Eden’ and Lived in Books

Summer just passed, I set myself the challenge of (re)reading all of John Steinbeck. An ambitious and pleasurable exercise, I’m still going with my great Summer of Steinbeck, even though, as I wrote last week, it’s now the depths of winter.

I haven’t been entirely dedicated to this challenge, and, like the contradictory gen-y-er I am, I’ve been reading other authors in and around Steinbeck. Having said that, reading Steinbeck, like all life enhancing things, is worth taking time over.

This is particularly true of my favourite novel of his, ‘East of Eden’, which I finished re-reading last week. ‘East’ encapsulates every reason why you should read Steinbeck at some point in your life. And, if you have read him before, ‘East’ is a persuasive argument for regular revisits.

Recommending ‘East’ is tricky, as I can’t quite put my finger on what it’s about. Read it and you’ll understand what I mean - a plot summary is impossible. What I can say with hand-on-heart confidence, though, is it's the kind of book that makes you feel big and small, all at the same time. If the idea of literature that can do that appeals, then ‘East’ is the novel for you.

I first read ‘East’ when I was sixteen, and, if I’m honest, a lot of it went over my head. I recall liking particular characters (Lee, Samuel Hamilton, Adam Trask) but not understanding them, and, consequentially, feeling a bit disconnected from the novel. Almost ten years later, I now have enough of that horrible phrase – ‘life experience’ - to properly understand those characters I liked as a sixteen year old, and to begin to understand some of Steinbeck’s more unlikable characters, of which ‘East’ has plenty.

It’s tempting, here, to spoil the ending for you, but I won’t, because ‘East’ is the kind of novel that you need read, right the way through, before the last page makes any sense. As someone who likes to read the last pages of novels before the end of the first chapter, a book with a last page like ‘East’'s presents a prospect both tantalising and maddening. When you get to that last page, though, you’ll see why I was so tempted here to share it with you. It is wonderful.

One further word of advice: if you do read ‘East’, buy yourself a copy, rather than borrow one from a friend or from the library. The reason being? This is the sort of book with so much of life in it that it needs – rather, deserves – to be dog-eared, coffee-spilt, bath-dropped, handbag-mangled, and lived-in.

Or, perhaps I’m trying to find some esoteric excuse for the fact that I dropped this book in the bath at least three times while reading it. Whatever your interpretation, my copy of ‘East’ is properly lived in, something for which I am glad.