"Cliff Notes - Grapes of Wrath, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cliff Notes)

The last thing the Joads need now is car trouble. But suddenly, Al Joad, the family auto mechanic, announces that the old Hudson truck he bought has sprung a leak in the radiator and needs new brakes.

And to make matters still worse, the family learns that by leaving the state of Oklahoma, Tom will be breaking his parole. If caught, he would be sent back to McAlester for three more years. What should a man do in such circumstances? Let his family go alone? Stay behind and wander the countryside like Muley Graves? Or should he take a chance? Tom, it turns out, doesn't give the problem a second thought. His family needs him. Besides, the law has let him down in the past. Why should he begin to respect it now? He pledges to Ma that he will stay out of trouble, but as soon as he crosses the state line, Tom will become a fugitive.

When the Joads are beset with troubles, they call a meeting. Everyone knows where to sit: men huddle in the center, women behind them, children in the outer circle. Grampa, as the oldest, has the first word, even though his mind has gone silly. Anyone can talk, but decisions are made by the men.

In two ways this night's meeting differs from those of the past. Instead of assembling in the house, the family meets alongside the truck, which has suddenly become the Joads' "place." (The Joads, it seems, are being transformed from a "home" family into a "road" family.) Also for the first time, Al Joad joins the nucleus of men. As the family mechanic, he has earned a spot in the center. He reports on the condition of the truck: she's okay--weak, but she'll make it. On the road he'll be responsible for keeping the old Hudson rolling.

Then the group takes up Casy's request to join the family. Can they afford to feed still another person? Ma speaks up: "It ain't kin we? It's will we?" Adding that no Joad has ever refused food and shelter or a lift on the road to anyone who asked, Ma prevails. Casy is taken into the family. Have you noticed that Ma's authority has begun to creep into the family's decision-making?

If you've ever left home for any length of time, you're probably familiar with the feeling of restlessness most people feel before a trip. You're keyed up, you can't sleep, and time seems to pass oh, so slowly. You can't wait to get started. The same sense of urgency about getting underway hits the Joads that night. They decide to leave the next day instead of waiting.

Their night is filled with bustle. Slaughter the pigs and salt the meat. Collect tools from the barn, pack the clothes in boxes, gather pots and utensils from the kitchen. Load the truck. Make it even down below. Fill in the spaces with blankets. Throw the mattresses on top. If you don't need it, don't take it, we don't have much room!

Ma lets Casy salt the pork, and she retreats alone into the empty house. She finds her box of old family letters, clippings, and photographs. We see her holding it in her lap for a long time and remembering the years gone by. Then, biting her lip to keep from weeping, Ma places the collection gently into the stove. The flames lick up and over the box. For Ma, the past is over. Only the present counts now. By daybreak, the Joads are ready to go. All but one Joad, at any rate. At the last moment Grampa announces, "I jus' ain't agoin'." His reason is simple: "This here's my country. I b'long here." Grampa's rebellion may have been triggered by the sudden appearance of Muley Graves, come to bid the Joads goodbye, but can Grampa survive like Muley? The family thinks not. They devise a plan to spike Grampa's coffee with a "soothin' syrup." It works. Soon Grampa falls asleep and is hoisted onto the truck like a piece of baggage.

As the sun rises, the Joads' truck, groaning under its load, crawls slowly (like a turtle) onto the highway going west.

^^^^^^^^^^THE GRAPES OF WRATH: CHAPTER 11

What happens to land when it is left vacant? What happens to empty houses? What happens to the vitality of a place when the people leave and machines take over?

This interchapter draws an analogy between abandoned farmland and death. When people occupy the land and the day's work is done, the heat and smell of life remain. When the tractor driver turns off his machine and goes home to town, a corpse is left behind.

Forsaken houses fall prey to the wind and wild things. Little boys hurl stones through the windows. Paint flakes off, and wind tears away the shingles. Bats and mice take up residency. Weeds spring up where they had never grown before.

NOTE: This grim portrait of the dead land brings us to a juncture in the novel. We've seen the conditions that forced the farmers out of their homes. Now we'll see what these new migrants face along the road.

^^^^^^^^^^THE GRAPES OF WRATH: CHAPTER 12

If you look at an old highway map of the western United States, you'll find Route 66 cutting through Oklahoma, the Texas panhandle, bisecting New Mexico and Arizona, and reaching Needles, California. The road then crosses the Mojave Desert and enters the lush valleys of central California. (Parts of Route and 66 fell into disuses and were abandoned in the 1970s and early 80s.)

Steinbeck calls 66 the "road of flight." In the 1930s swarms of migrants rode it out of the Dust Bowl. They came from little no-name places and joined the western tide. The highway became a river of people.

Along its miles, day after day, thousands of dramas were played. Each was unique, but each became part of the great pattern of life on the road.

No driver likes car trouble, especially when he's trying to make good time and he's got a huge cargo aboard. But those old jalopies crowding the highway broke down again and again. Repairs were expensive. A day lost fixing an engine meant a days delay in finding work in California.

Throughout this chapter, Steinbeck lets us hear the conversations of scared and angry men talking inside their cars, at repair shops, and at filling stations. They talk mainly of gaskets and hoses and con-rods, of tires and overheated engines. Then there's talk of California. Will they ever get there? They hear rumors now and then about border patrols at the California state line turning people back. They don't want any more poor people messing up their beautiful state.

Sometimes a car can't be fixed. What do the people do then? Do they walk? Where do they get the courage to keep going? There's one inspiring story circulating among the migrants about a stranded family of twelve being picked up by some rich fellow and being driven and fed all the way to California. Most stories you hear, however, end in despair.

^^^^^^^^^^THE GRAPES OF WRATH: CHAPTER 13

The Joads cover 200 miles the first day. By sundown we have met one of many roadside characters who, in contrast to the Joads, have failed to endure life's hardships. We see the family dog crushed by a speeding car. We also meet Sairy and Ivy Wilson, a couple from Kansas with a disabled car and a belief in charity for all. That night Grampa Joad dies in the Wilsons' tent and later is buried wrapped in Sairy's quilt. His death creates a tight bond between the two families.

That Grampa dies so soon comes as no surprise. Casy explains why: "Grampa an' the old place, they was jus' the same thing." Removing him from the land was like pulling his plug. With the connection broken, the old man lost his will to live, and he dies quickly of a stroke.

Grampa's death makes sense. He's a superfluous member of the family. In the days when Grampa was in charge, the Joads had been a stable farm family. Now they are starting over as a road family. For the younger members of the group, life holds endless potential. Look at Rose of Sharon and Connie, for example. They are totally absorbed in their unborn baby, the next generation of Joads. They see a sleek Lincoln Zephyr glide by on the highway and talk of owning a car like that some day, but only after they buy a house for the baby to grow up in. Once in California, Connie will go to school and get a good job. Rose of Sharon will raise the baby in a little white house with a picket fence. The two of them are caught up in their private American dream.