Retro Rants: The Grapes Of Wrath

“Suck On That” Said Steinbeck

Ah, Steinbeck. There’s something so pleasantly gritty about his writing style, like passing your hand over freshly sanded wood.

Covering a rather inauspicious period in American history, The Grapes of Wrath perfectly captures the sense of confusion, loss, and dwindling hope that many people experienced during the Dust Bowl and Great Depression. All the dislocation, the injustice, and the necessity to simply *endure* are all displayed in glowing Steinbeck fashion. The characters aren’t just miserable, they’re tortured. You can practically feel them pushing through the dust hanging in the air as they trudge westward or hear the quiet despair in each word of dialogue.

Now, say what you want about the man, but Steinbeck certainly knew how to give a memorable ending. For those of you who haven’t read the book The Grapes of Wrath ends with the main family of characters coming across a man who’s withering away from malnourishment. To cure this, the young daughter whips out one of her boobs, cradles the man in her arms and lets him suckle. Yes, dear reader, I know it was symbolic of her offering aid at the most human of levels a la mother and child. Yes it’s deep, poetic, a striking finish.

It still doesn’t mean I’m not going to stop reading to look at Steinbeck’s ghost as it hovers in the far corner of my room and ask him “what the fuck?”

Though I first read this book in high school this scene remains as puzzling now as it was then. My parents like The Grapes of Wrath, dear reader. Think about it:. I, in high school, got to talk about a mutually liked piece of classic literature with my parents. Great bonding moment. Super cool. Until we got to the end and I had to ask, with all of my 17 years of tact and grace “what was with the titty-sucking?”  (for those of you wondering the response I got was “Yeah that came out of nowhere for me, too).

Regardless of whether the ending says something about Steinbeck and what he was, or was not, into I would actually recommend you read The Grapes of Wrath. While it’s been firmly cemented in my mind for inserting a random breast into an otherwise crisp social narrative, it is a wonderful book.

Think of it this way: It’s an excellent exploration into the depths of the human spirit with some grade-A cringe inducing nudity at the end.

If nothing else it’ll make for one helluva conversation starter at the company picnic.