East of Eden

“Perhaps the best conversationalist in the world is the man who helps others to talk.”

This is a hard book to review, mostly because I'm not really sure why this turned out to be such a compelling read. It's like a character study spanning a generation, where everyone's thoughts and motives are center stage. The main “meat” of the book surrounds Adam and his family, though several other characters come in and out of frame that play a large role in how Adam develops. The time period spans from 1862 to the outbreak of World War I, and for your time spent you really start to develop an understanding and an interest in this family who settles in Salinas Valley, California.

If we're being honest here, I really thought this was going to be a DNF book for me. If it wasn't for literally everybody around me telling me how good this book is and me not wanting to deal with defending myself for the rest of my life, I probably would have put it down within the first third or so. I found this book to really drag in the beginning, which is what prevents me from giving it a full five stars. It pulled me in hard once things start to come together and you find out how all the pieces you were introduced to in the beginning fit, and I found the rest to be a very satisfying (if long) read.

I also wasn't fully satisfied with Kate/Cathy and her resolution. We can see her slow descent into paranoia and suspicion, but her deciding to suddenly kill herself (I say suddenly, when it's clear she's been planning it a while) felt out of character from what she was set up as. Steinbeck made an attempt to set her up as a sympathetic, pitiful character in the end, but I still don't think it makes up for how she got there.

Can we also just talk a second about how awesome a character Lee was? The dude really carried the family on his shoulders, I swear.

So, all in all, I'm very glad I gave this book so many chances and stuck with it ‘til the end. It's a satisfying book to have read. I'm glad I listened to my friends (for once).

Just some food for thought: I think it's possible that Cathy saw the good in Aron and believed it to be real.

In all her life Cathy thought of every human being to be just as selfish as her, she couldn't see it any other way since she was born devoid of empathy and love. Others might exhibit altruistic behaviors, but her cynical nature compelled her to dig up all the dirt in their lives, and the results confirmed that they were every bit just as rotten as her beneath the surface.

When Cathy and her son Aron eventually met each other, Aron erupted in anger and was distraught because this newfound reality shattered the idealized version of mother he had painted for himself. In other words, Aron could not conceive such evil to exist the same way his mom did not believe in love and empathy.

Perhaps Cathy recognized something in her son, and understood the good in him to be as raw and authentic as her wickedness - both of which belong to an extreme end of a spectrum.


*Before Cathy died, she remembered of her imaginary friend Alice, who was described as someone she could always lean to for comfort and support as a child. I wonder what triggered this memory to resurface, and does this imaginary friend entail that Cathy might have had the capacity for love?

Family saga that follows the Hamiltons and the Trasks and loosely re-imagines the biblical story Cain and Abel.

Steinbeck asks the question: is your nature fated because of blood (genetics) or do you have a choice in what you're going to be?

The wisest characters believe that we do have a choice. Timshel. Thou mayest triumph over sin, meaning that men have a choice.

“I don't very much believe in blood,” said Samuel. “I think when a man finds good or bad in his children he is seeing only what he planted in them after they cleared the womb.” “You can't make a race horse of a pig.” “No,” said Samuel, “but you can make a very fast pig.”

This is an excellent book that suffers from what I call 100-Years-of-Solitude syndrome. It spans three generations of the same characters, and the allegories reiterate themselves from generation to generation. It's a good read, but any one of the generations would have been a fine book on its own, and in aggregate they don't do much more than hammer home the same blunt Biblical allusions. Is it neat that the three generations echo and rhyme? Absolutely! But it's a hard thing to keep up steam for over the long haul.

Anyway, that's the bad. The good is the book itself. There are lots of fascinating characters, each of whom exemplifies some aspect of human psychology. Reading through East of Eden feels a lot like casting acquaintances from your life into book form; there are lots of characters, and with the exception of Aron, each of them rings true. My girlfriend suggests that we can learn more about the human condition from fiction than we can from psychology, and books like these make me thing she might be onto something there.

Is this the best book I've ever read? No, but I'm happy I made it through. It could have used an aggressive editor, but the scale of the world, the characters, and the recurrent themes make it a breath of fresh air compared to most modern literature. I doubt this book will stick with me, but I can see why it's considered a classic.

I'd like to believe in a version where Lee and Sam Hamilton elope and wander the world.

I really struggled to get into the first 1/3 of the book but I soon connected with the characters and their stories.

This truly is a beautifully written book with powerful characters that seem real. I found my self absolutely hating some of them and loving others. I was worried I would get the cast mixed up as there are so many characters, but not to worry they are so individual in their characteristics and stories I can still recall them.

My favorite book of this era so far.

A beautiful story about morality, family and coming of age.

An epic multi-generational story crafted as lose biblical retelling of Adam and Eve's fall to sin, and Cain and Abel's rivalry. Mixed with deep psychological and philosophical analysis of human spirit and motivations. There are characters who are plain evil, characters who are plain good, and then there are the more interesting characters in between, who grapple with their instincts.

Lots of captivating moral dilemmas emerge from this very black+white view on good and evil. I was especially intrigued by Adam's decision to reject his son's gift and the repercussions that followed.

I was definitely wholly absorbed in the story. Possibly a 5 star absorption. And yet there's an unevenness, and i would have probably shortened the middle of the book, because I found the two brother relationships bookending the story, the most compelling. I'd even fault the book for placing Adam at its center, because I'd consider him the least interesting and likable character.

In a story mostly populated with men, Cathy was fascinating, and could have been polished by omitting those liquor-induced moments used to show her true face. And then there's Steinbeck's apparent inability to describe female characters without mentioning their breasts. So I'll round this down to 4.

This book helped me make sense of the quote that often pops up when you open Goodreads:

“All art is autobiographical, the Pearl is the oysters art” (or something along those lines lol)

It became so clear about half way in that this book was Steinbeck pouring out everything his life had gifted him thus far; lessons, questions and offerings...really cool to have that seamlessly woven throughout and inseparable from a compelling story.

Now reading ‘Journal of a Novel: The East of Eden Letters' to learn about his process writing the book.

Literature! Who would have thought!

“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good”.

A beautiful and at times heartbreaking story of good and evil and the shades in between, and how our choices ultimately make us who we are. I was getting tired of seeing posts of “Wow, I read East of Eden and was blown away!” on reddit and finally decided to take the plunge and dive headlong into the saga, and I'm a little ashamed to admit that I belong to the same category. This was a beautiful book and I don't want to read anything by Steinbeck for a long time - because I want to savor this age-old ripe wine and shine in the afterglow.

I love to fall asleep while reading a book, but this might be one of those rare books that made me apprehensive about the ordeal while at the same time getting me excited for what comes next (the other one would be “House of Leaves”). I used to dread reading it at night because I knew somewhere down the line, there would be a chapter on Cathy, and I would get nightmares of her evil doings after that. It sounds silly when I say it out loud, but in my eyes, that speaks for the brilliance of this book. The length of the book allows it to explore each and every character to its core and oftentimes lead to conversations that would make me close my kindle and just think about what I had just read. The most illuminating pick of all those interesting conversations would be the one where the father-figure-cum-servant of the house discusses “Timshel” with one of the characters.

“Thou mayest”

I think if I ever get a tattoo (which might not be too distant a future), Timshel would surely feature prominently on my skin.

the secular adaptation of genesis- a study of family and loneliness, and everything in between. it's one of those books you can't imagine a human being writing if not for the sheer humanity bursting from every line.

This is a luxurious read. Take it slow and let Steinbeck's mastery revitalize your mind. Anything I say will likely be perceived as absurd because I loved this book so much. Steinbeck is more than an author. This book is more philosophy than mere fiction. One might even classify it as allegorical in its exploration of deeply human and universal themes.

Everyone who reads this will likely get something wildly different out of it but one thing I think can be felt by all; this book epitomizes American literature. In fact, in the final chapters, Lee and Caleb discuss what it means to be American and it's brilliant. Not in the patriotic sense but in the core character of American rebellion and ingenuity and our sense of moral rightness (as held at the turn of the century). While much has changed in modern society, the values and evils and joys of American life are still prominent today.

One last note. I lived in Monterey, California, which sits just west of Salinas, where the bulk of this tale takes place. Steinbeck captures the charm and character of the setting so perfectly. He does so with a loving fondness that made me ache to spend more time in that wonderful county.

I would rate this higher if I could. I want to go back and rate everything else lower so that East of Eden gets to be in its own special category. What an incredible book! It has quickly positioned itself amongst my all time favourites. I want to read it again immediately to soak up everything I might have missed.

It took me 3 attempts to read this, I just couldn't get past the first few dozen pages. Once I did though, I couldn't stop. It's beautiful, heartbreaking, and has some important life lessons threaded throughout. Definitely one to reread and savor.

We all have those pieces of art–be they movies, books, music, what have you–that upon first exposure we fall in love. We turn the last page or exit the theater or concert hall certain that this will surely be added to our list of favorites and long-held companions. Yet, how many times do we say this and a year or two down the road someone mentions that very piece of art and we find ourselves thinking, “oh yeah, I did read that, didn't I?” or “I had forgotten how much I loved that album!”

So often we get swept away in the immediate experience of something skipping upon the waters of our soul, leaving little ripples and echoes dancing in its wake. But these dimples and dapples merely play on the surface for a time, returning once more to their source, leaving the waters ultimately undisturbed–the liquid plane unbroken; the deepest depths untouched.

There are other times, however, that we encounter a piece of art–or rather, it encounters us–and we are changed. It transcends mere rankings of “favorites” and “Top 10s” and weaves itself into our fibers. We do not critique and assess it, so much as it sizes and weighs us. The surface tension is broken and we are plunged beneath, staring humanity's unvarnished truths in the face. And in so doing our own humanity is enlarged, a spaciousness expands in our souls, and we feel more human–even as our foundations are shaken.

John Steinbeck's 1952 magnum opus, East of Eden, is just this kind of piece of art. It's the kind of book people say they will read “someday”, only to read it and wish “someday” had come a lot sooner. So if you haven't read it. Do so. Start today.

The Beauty

Just like other art that has so deeply affected me–Terrence Malick's Tree of Life, Mark Rothko's Orange, Red, Yellow, and Miles Davis' Kind of Blue–East of Eden is about both the most mundane and most profound of human experiences and knowledge.

At its most basic, East of Eden follows a few generations of two families, the Hamiltons and the Trasks, and how they interact and intersect. At a slightly deeper level, it is a retelling of the first few chapters of the biblical book of Genesis.

The book takes its time. It's long, moving with the easy-going gait of a sauntering elder recounting legends burrowed deep within his soul. Entire sections simply describe the way a car engine works, or give extended quotations of whole chapters from the Bible. Even in its seriousness, it is not an earnest book, by any means; it isn't trying at lengths to convince you of its beauty and power. Rather, it is poised, secure, and relaxed in its seduction of the human heart. And boy, does it seduce.

There are other stunningly beautiful books–The Great Gatsby comes to mind–but even those books take some breaks in their poetry for some “mere” exposition. Steinbeck's novel, however, is aesthetically relentless. From beginning to end, page after page, the limits of the English language are pushed to break one's heart over and over and over again by awashing it in such beauty and imagery and metaphor, bringing life and light even to the dead and dark in the pages.

And this vivifying force extends to the deep humanity Steinbeck has for his characters. You will scarcely find another novel with even one character as fully realized as those in East of Eden, much less the huge numbers found here. None is a caricature or an over-simplified distillation of generic human qualities. Every person mentioned, even in passing, is so distinct as a human being, in all their complexity, comedy, and tragedy.

And ultimately, it is this that most exemplifies the heart from which this novel is poured and the place to which it draws us. East of Eden is a staggering piece of beauty and depth, offered by an artist with such compassion and love for the dignity and complexity of humans, even in their deepest sin and darkness.

The Vision

One conversation, I believe, offers us the clearest picture of the book's vision, sweep, and thesis. I've edited and removed all specific mentions of character and plot to avoid spoilers (you're welcome). I think this same conversation could be offered between every human–lovers, friends, enemies–and even within every human's own soul:

“Do you hate me?”
“No, but you hate me a little. Why is that?”
“I—I'm afraid of you.”
“No need to be.”
“I've hurt you more than you know.”
“But I'm glad you told me.”
“Why?”
“Because now I know I didn't make it all up. I feel free now. And I think I love you.”
“But I'm not good.”
“I love you because you're not good.”

The lack of “good” mentioned here is not playful, flirtatious, or salacious. The badness spoken of is the deep pain and darkness that exists in all of us. East of Eden emphatically tells us that we do not find life by drawing close to those on what we imagine to be the “right” road–who see all things as pure and good and have little capacity to hold the brokenness of others' in their sights; nor is it found with those that live solely on the “bad” road–whose lives turn inside on themselves such that they become less human and treat others likewise.

Rather, life in relationship with others is found by drawing close to those who, as one character puts it, are “crammed full to the top with every good thing and every bad thing.” It is when one sees their own darkness and accepts their “not good”-ness, and in turn draws close to others of the same realization, that the light can begin cresting upon the horizon.

The Invitation

East of Eden invites us into a slog, a journey, a work. The book has such compassion for every one of its characters–even its most vile ones–and invites us to do the same, even as we hurt others and they hurt us. And this is so hard.

Yet life and meaning can never be found in relationship with those that are “good”, but only in those that have experienced they are “not good”–meaning that they have seen themselves as what we all most truly are.

This raw, elemental, basic truth of humanity is what stares at us from beneath the surface of the waters. It is the mirror that East of Eden holds to our souls. It is the judgment laid before us, and it is that rarest and sweetest form of judgment: one devoid of all nihilism, one that acts as both a sword that cuts and a balm that soothes, and one which invites us to work for what is most meaningful in our lives–hard, but beautiful relationships. Relationships only held in existence by the tenacity of forgiveness and grace, even against radical sin.

Northern California's Salinas Valley is the first “character” we meet in the book, and it serves as the backdrop for the rest of what follows. In it we see a beautiful metaphor of where we are invited to find light in the midst of such darkness: relationships forged through the fire and valley of human depravity and pain, and up the other side into life, freedom, and forgiveness.

Steinbeck and East of Eden, therefore, offer us a choice. Will we live our lives pushing away and protecting ourselves from all the “bad” and hurt in the world, thus missing the depths of relationship that can come from mercy, forgiveness, redemption, grace, and compassion? Or can we see others and ourselves in the full truth of our “not good”-ness and still love them–growing our capacity to hold both the light and darkness of others within our hearts, not loving them in spite of what's most broken in them, but precisely because we see them for who they truly are?

It is a daily choice. It is fitting that this novel is a retelling of the opening of Genesis–a book of beginnings. For even in the book's finality and end, its invitation and vision are offered to us not as an ending, but rather a beginning: of new life, new love, and a new world. It is a call to a hard, but beautiful life; a life whose hope is not founded on whether we will or will not choose the beautiful road of brokenness and compassion, but in the freedom and dignity of being human, in which we are imbued with the honor that we can and “mayest” choose such a road of blessing, beauty, and brokenness.

What will you choose?

I was not a very good high school English student. Every book we were assigned, I read just enough to write the essay and pass the test. Usually that meant I read until about a hundred pages from the end before quitting.

East of Eden is the only book that I ever regretted not finishing in high school.

I'm so glad I've finally read the whole thing. This book is amazing.

Timshel.

A beautiful book
not just a bible story
in California.

I love how Steinbeck invites you in for coffee or drinks with his characters. They slowly unfold their nature rather than being thrust upon you. A couple of characters in this story were almost too themselves - too predictable or repeating the same bits- not so much to spoil the story, though.

I still say that “The winter of our discontent” is Steinbeck's best.

All of the characters were so vivid and engaging, with the exception of Aron. He was completely flat to me, no depth or complexity at all, and this was especially glaring because of the impeccable job Steinbeck did with every single other character. So does one flaw ruin a book? No way! It's still a hell of a good book, and I'd recommend it to anyone. When the time comes, just gloss over the Aron stuff and focus on Cal.

Amazing. I can't believe I waited so long to read this.

This review is not a fair review. I thought I was going to like it, love it, maybe, but I didn't. And the reason I didn't like it has nothing to do with the beautiful writing or the big themes or the fascinating characters in this book; it had all of that and more.

I blame myself. I forced myself to read this book this summer. I assigned it to myself for summer reading.

So don't bother reading this review. Try someone else's review. I read it when I wasn't ready for it and that ruined the experience for me.

Unprecedented classic whose Edenic resonance is of a timeless quality. East of Eden is an experience which manifests the story of every human by enabling to express the immanent questions we live with through a form purely dedicated to allegory. Words, language and thought all coagulate to present the Story of all stories and transform the act of reading into a meditative ensemble that helps deliquesce the stiff structures we often find difficult to move on ahead in.

This and To Kill A Mockingbird are my all-time favorite books. Great plot, fantastic use of language. Read it slow and take it all in.

I think I've read enough now to realize that I prefer my books with the philosophy laid bare. I like the proverbs of Sancho Panza, the long speeches of Dmitri and Ivan in The Brothers Karamzov, the spectral prophecies of the Judge in Blood Meridian and even the blunt, thinly masked idealism of Ayn Rand.

East of Eden is perfect in that sense. Steinbeck makes no attempt to mask the things that are true and important to him through hidden symbolism or difficult characters. Sometimes that can make for a naive novel, but East of Eden is not that. It's not that there is no metaphor in the book. You could probably write dissertations on just that, and I'm sure people have, but if you were to ignore it all and decide to live the rest of your life relying solely on the wisdom found in Eden's earthy dialog, I imagine you'd do alright.

Even so, philosophy is just a fraction of what makes East of Eden great. Apart from that, it is a beautifully written book with enough depth that I'm already looking forward to reading again.