When I first started researching for my road trip, I read constantly. I read novels, magazines, guide books, blogs, lists, maps... One of the first books I read though, was John Steinbeck's "Travels with Charley in Search of America." I picked it up in the travel section at the local library and found myself enjoying it so much (and wanting to highlight my favorite lines & write notes in the margins), that I ended up buying my own copy of it at Barnes & Noble. I don't know what it is about this book. It's not what many would consider one of Steinbeck's "great masterpieces." It's no "Grapes of Wrath" (which I've never read) or "Of Mice and Men" (which I did read, but didn't much enjoy because sad stories make me sad.) It's really nothing special (to most people, probably.) But when I read it for the first time, I felt like the experiences he had written about were exactly like the ones I hoped to have on my own road trip. The realizations he made about our country & our society were things I had often thought, but never had the eloquence to put into written word. In short, "Travels with Charley in Search of America" is the story of Steinbeck's road trip with his dog. But anyone who has ever taken a road trip knows that the real "story" is amazement, disgust, realization, bewilderment, loss of faith, renewed faith, loneliness, absolute joy, and so much more. I loved Steinbeck's story so much that I read it a few times in a row. Or sometimes I'd just go back and read my favorite parts again. And sometimes I felt like I was reading my own words...
I was cleaning out my van the other day, and I happened upon my copy again. So I pulled it out and that night before bed, I started reading it.
We all think our thoughts are our own. We think, "No one has ever thought exactly what I'm thinking right now." Until we read our exact thoughts typed out into neat sentences on the pages of a novel written 20+ years before we(I) were(was) even born.
I felt that again when I began to read. And what an amazing (and dreadful!) feeling that is! We all want to believe that our thoughts are unique; we'd like to think we're clever, or witty, or more observant, or just different from every one else. Special. But the truth is, it's also kind of humbling and exhilarating when you realize that you're not as original as you once thought; that maybe someone out there does perceive the world in much of the same way as you. (I don't claim to know anything about Steinbeck's worldview. He died twenty years before I was even born, and I know nothing of his thoughts about our country except what he wrote in this one novel.) Nonetheless, it made me happy to reread my favorite passages from before the start of my own travels, now that I am the midst of them.
I leave you with this: a passage about Montana that very well could have been written by your's truly. (Not because I claim to be any ounce of a shadow of the writer that Steinbeck was, but because they are most certainly the same [maybe more poetic] thoughts I had about Montana, too. And I love it. I love that someone else feels the exact way I do about that "great splash of grandeur.")
The next passage in my journey is a love affair. I am in love with Montana. For other states I have admiration, respect, recognition, even some affection, but with Montana it is love, and it's difficult to analyze love when you're in it. [...] It seems to me that Montana is a great splash of grandeur. The scale is huge but not overpowering. The land is rich with grass and color, and the mountains are the kind I would create if mountains were ever put on my agenda. [...] Again my attitude may be informed by love, but it seemed to me that the towns were places to live in rather than nervous hives. People had time to pause in their occupations to undertake the passing art of neighborliness. [...] But I see that, as usual, love is inarticulate. Montana has a spell on me. It is grandeur and warmth. If Montana had a seacoast, or if I could live away from the sea, I would instantly live there and petition for admission. Of all the states it is my favorite and my love. --John Steinbeck, 1962
Now if those last two sentences aren't full of words stolen from my very soul, then... well, I don't know what. Because the truth is, they are. In fact, they don't even have to be stolen from my soul. Those are words I've said aloud in conversation with friends about Montana.
Disclaimer: If you want an epic story, don't read this book. I recommended it to my little sister, and she found it boring and hard to read. I loved it because I was about to embark on my own journey, and I loved what Steinbeck had to say about his. :)
No comments:
Post a Comment