Cannery Row
I've never read Steinbeck's novel. I picked it up when I actually visited Cannery Row (which, to my naive surprise, has no canneries anymore but is one swank place to eat seafood and drink whites from the central coast; it is astounding that the novel, considering its characters, has contributed to the tourist reputation of such a place). It's an easy book to read; I started last night, and now thirty pages from the end I'm stopping, braking, letting the book live in me before I put its final page to rest in my soul. I have so much to write here; I've been so busy with summer school and working with the pain I talk about in the post below and just living...having a family is better than having a blog, but it certainly cuts into my blog time...I'll do what I can and try to catch up this week.
***
For one thing, S and Mike are out of town. Mike, in fact, is going to Europe with his grandparents and I won't see him again until August 10th. I am terribly sad about this. He usually spends most of his summers with his dad, but we always drive down to so. cal. and take him to Catalina once or twice. This summer, he won't even be on the same continent. I hate this fact, though I believe this will be a great trip, a life changing trip. The 13 year old who returns will be a different person.
And since I'm nailed down with my online summer classes (and really, they're not that hard, an hour or two a day, though the first papers come in Monday and that will be different) I can't drive down with the S. So I am home, alone, until Thursday night. Not common. In fact, rare since our marriage. I'm sure it will do me good and already I've started off right (reading, eating raisin bran with soy milk for breakfast). They left early this morning, before seven. It's hard to describe my feelings, especially regarding Mike, but sadness is the greatest of them.
Then, some complete jackass decided to fire up a chainsaw (do I hear two now?) at 7:30 in the morning on a Saturday, so sad, mad, and unable to sleep in I went back into the Steinbeck.
Everything I think is essential in Kerouac, which I'm sorry to say isn't much, seems like it was borrowed from Steinbeck (except for the times he finds the beautiful rhythms in jazz, which he openly adopts, and Snyder's attitudes toward nature). Even the concept of the Beatific bum, in nearly identical description, is in Row ten years and more before On the Road and Dharma Bums (the second, a more enjoyable novel for me by far). This surprised me. Kerouac tried to romantacize a different kind of criminal, the real kind, the true borderline, in On the Road. In turn, Steinbeck may have gone too soft on Mack and his friends, painted them too sweetly, but I didn't live in that time and place and since we are all the summation of so many things some of which change constantly and a novelist can only show pieces...perhaps he told the truth he could tell. Fact is, Neal Cassady was a crazy sonofabitch; his worship makes no more sense to me than the cult of Bukowski (the man, not his work, though again, nothing I've seen in Buk's writing makes him more than a footnote, even if the Chili Peppers do give him a lyrical nod). Buk worship still hummed warmly in the Long Beach scene when I lived there.
(Incidentally, I hate needless obscurity; I'd put links to all these people to help the non-English majors who read this blog, which is just about everyone, but any name or term can be quickly found in google, of course, and you'd probably find a better site than I would).
***
On another note, this morning, I'm grateful I'm not a scientologist. What is it about us that lures us to secret knowledge, the graduated steps of the gnosis; that concept is in so many religions, current and ancient, I am curious.
***
I also saw the film Gallipoli this week, and again, am reminded of the radical grief which grows inside all war, the death of innocents which must be part of every conflict, no matter how just (and those of you who read know what I think of Iraq; whatever the outcome, lots of families, families and children, have accidentally been blown to bits by our weapons while we go chasing small groups of men and that is not a disputed fact).
And I will say something else I have thought for a while: nationalism, patriotism, is deadly dangerous, even stupid; maybe I belong with Mack and the Boys at the Flophouse, but tell me what makes any nation superior to another when all are made of human beings, sentient and social animals organized into families who, according to one writer at least, are made in the image of God? Patriotism can quickly lead to the devaluation of other nations and those who live in them. It is the history of the world, friends, and it must change.
Also, democracy is not the final goal in the historical shift from monarchy: the elevation of human rights is. There are elected freaks all over the planet. Dictators and outright butchers who were freely elected. All it takes is propaganda, hatred for the Other (internal or external), and limited choices. I favor free election, of course, what is the alterative? Election by the elite only? I agree with Aristotle: let everyone have a say (though I'd include women and all citizens, including, I tend to think, felons) but democracy alone is not enough; it can shield colonialism, fascism, the exploitations commom in capitalism and socialism. No, human rights must be the final goal. That is where the founding documents of our country are strongest.
As a Christian, does that include evangelism, is the great commission (and I don't like that term, because there seems to be more than one commission in the gospels) what I mean here? I actually don't have an answer to that. Certainly love for one's fellow human...the details of what human rights are must be dictated by the universal nature of human needs, material, spiritual, emotional. But do not be fooled: just because a democracy is in place does not mean a people are free or have human rights or equal opportunities. It is towards these as universal goals that we as a planet must strive.
Does that mean some cultures, or pieces of cultures, are better than others. In my opinion, clearly. Social relativism looks damned silly in the face of genocide or female genital mutilation or wife beating. Does it mean that at times violence or he threat of violence will be required to defend human rights? Yep. Is that always an easy decision. Nope. Are there times when it should be an easier decision than others? Yep.
***
I've been going through a hard time physically, as you know from my previous post. I am coming down from the valium; it works, but I'm sick of it and my condition seems to be slowly, slowly, improving, though I still feel, frankly, like some drove a truck up my butt just last week (and it's been three months now; remember, please, I have a special condition which was exacerbated by my colonoscopy; the coloscopy itself is very, very easy; get screened when your doctor says so!) They say valium is addicting, and having been at only five milligrams, one valium, a day for the last few days after taking two or some days three (it has a very long half life) I can feel my brain chemistry fighting the change after less than three months of continuous use. But I'm hanging in there, taking neurontin also which may or may not be helping (I think, a little, but hard to say). Neurontin is not addicting or mood altering. But what a ride is has been. Damn. Some days I've felt out of the woods, some days almost back to square one, but I'd have to say empirically I'm very gradually getting better, week to week, maybe month to month, not day to day. It has always passed before. This has just been an exceptional flare up of a condition which has no known etiology and whose treatment is controversial. I could be much worse; I think again of Mrs. Funkiller and my eyes mist.
***
I end this morning, my first alone, on a happy note: I am going sailing! I really enjoyed last time, and I got in good with the skipper (with S's overt help; he's her friend), and Sunday I drive to the Bay, spend the night on the boat, sail all day Monday, eat more wonderful Berkeley food that night (Indian food heaven, that town) another night on the boat and then drive home Tuesday. This works out very well with S gone; not so well with the onliners, but truthfully they'll live. I took on that second online class to pay for sailing lessons or just more sailing (it isn't cheap) anway. And summer school should be more relaxed.
That's enough for one morning I guess. Think I'll finish Row. Once again, thanks for letting me share.
Oh, and I gave up on not using my first name. Fickle me.
Troy
***
For one thing, S and Mike are out of town. Mike, in fact, is going to Europe with his grandparents and I won't see him again until August 10th. I am terribly sad about this. He usually spends most of his summers with his dad, but we always drive down to so. cal. and take him to Catalina once or twice. This summer, he won't even be on the same continent. I hate this fact, though I believe this will be a great trip, a life changing trip. The 13 year old who returns will be a different person.
And since I'm nailed down with my online summer classes (and really, they're not that hard, an hour or two a day, though the first papers come in Monday and that will be different) I can't drive down with the S. So I am home, alone, until Thursday night. Not common. In fact, rare since our marriage. I'm sure it will do me good and already I've started off right (reading, eating raisin bran with soy milk for breakfast). They left early this morning, before seven. It's hard to describe my feelings, especially regarding Mike, but sadness is the greatest of them.
Then, some complete jackass decided to fire up a chainsaw (do I hear two now?) at 7:30 in the morning on a Saturday, so sad, mad, and unable to sleep in I went back into the Steinbeck.
Everything I think is essential in Kerouac, which I'm sorry to say isn't much, seems like it was borrowed from Steinbeck (except for the times he finds the beautiful rhythms in jazz, which he openly adopts, and Snyder's attitudes toward nature). Even the concept of the Beatific bum, in nearly identical description, is in Row ten years and more before On the Road and Dharma Bums (the second, a more enjoyable novel for me by far). This surprised me. Kerouac tried to romantacize a different kind of criminal, the real kind, the true borderline, in On the Road. In turn, Steinbeck may have gone too soft on Mack and his friends, painted them too sweetly, but I didn't live in that time and place and since we are all the summation of so many things some of which change constantly and a novelist can only show pieces...perhaps he told the truth he could tell. Fact is, Neal Cassady was a crazy sonofabitch; his worship makes no more sense to me than the cult of Bukowski (the man, not his work, though again, nothing I've seen in Buk's writing makes him more than a footnote, even if the Chili Peppers do give him a lyrical nod). Buk worship still hummed warmly in the Long Beach scene when I lived there.
(Incidentally, I hate needless obscurity; I'd put links to all these people to help the non-English majors who read this blog, which is just about everyone, but any name or term can be quickly found in google, of course, and you'd probably find a better site than I would).
***
On another note, this morning, I'm grateful I'm not a scientologist. What is it about us that lures us to secret knowledge, the graduated steps of the gnosis; that concept is in so many religions, current and ancient, I am curious.
***
I also saw the film Gallipoli this week, and again, am reminded of the radical grief which grows inside all war, the death of innocents which must be part of every conflict, no matter how just (and those of you who read know what I think of Iraq; whatever the outcome, lots of families, families and children, have accidentally been blown to bits by our weapons while we go chasing small groups of men and that is not a disputed fact).
And I will say something else I have thought for a while: nationalism, patriotism, is deadly dangerous, even stupid; maybe I belong with Mack and the Boys at the Flophouse, but tell me what makes any nation superior to another when all are made of human beings, sentient and social animals organized into families who, according to one writer at least, are made in the image of God? Patriotism can quickly lead to the devaluation of other nations and those who live in them. It is the history of the world, friends, and it must change.
Also, democracy is not the final goal in the historical shift from monarchy: the elevation of human rights is. There are elected freaks all over the planet. Dictators and outright butchers who were freely elected. All it takes is propaganda, hatred for the Other (internal or external), and limited choices. I favor free election, of course, what is the alterative? Election by the elite only? I agree with Aristotle: let everyone have a say (though I'd include women and all citizens, including, I tend to think, felons) but democracy alone is not enough; it can shield colonialism, fascism, the exploitations commom in capitalism and socialism. No, human rights must be the final goal. That is where the founding documents of our country are strongest.
As a Christian, does that include evangelism, is the great commission (and I don't like that term, because there seems to be more than one commission in the gospels) what I mean here? I actually don't have an answer to that. Certainly love for one's fellow human...the details of what human rights are must be dictated by the universal nature of human needs, material, spiritual, emotional. But do not be fooled: just because a democracy is in place does not mean a people are free or have human rights or equal opportunities. It is towards these as universal goals that we as a planet must strive.
Does that mean some cultures, or pieces of cultures, are better than others. In my opinion, clearly. Social relativism looks damned silly in the face of genocide or female genital mutilation or wife beating. Does it mean that at times violence or he threat of violence will be required to defend human rights? Yep. Is that always an easy decision. Nope. Are there times when it should be an easier decision than others? Yep.
***
I've been going through a hard time physically, as you know from my previous post. I am coming down from the valium; it works, but I'm sick of it and my condition seems to be slowly, slowly, improving, though I still feel, frankly, like some drove a truck up my butt just last week (and it's been three months now; remember, please, I have a special condition which was exacerbated by my colonoscopy; the coloscopy itself is very, very easy; get screened when your doctor says so!) They say valium is addicting, and having been at only five milligrams, one valium, a day for the last few days after taking two or some days three (it has a very long half life) I can feel my brain chemistry fighting the change after less than three months of continuous use. But I'm hanging in there, taking neurontin also which may or may not be helping (I think, a little, but hard to say). Neurontin is not addicting or mood altering. But what a ride is has been. Damn. Some days I've felt out of the woods, some days almost back to square one, but I'd have to say empirically I'm very gradually getting better, week to week, maybe month to month, not day to day. It has always passed before. This has just been an exceptional flare up of a condition which has no known etiology and whose treatment is controversial. I could be much worse; I think again of Mrs. Funkiller and my eyes mist.
***
I end this morning, my first alone, on a happy note: I am going sailing! I really enjoyed last time, and I got in good with the skipper (with S's overt help; he's her friend), and Sunday I drive to the Bay, spend the night on the boat, sail all day Monday, eat more wonderful Berkeley food that night (Indian food heaven, that town) another night on the boat and then drive home Tuesday. This works out very well with S gone; not so well with the onliners, but truthfully they'll live. I took on that second online class to pay for sailing lessons or just more sailing (it isn't cheap) anway. And summer school should be more relaxed.
That's enough for one morning I guess. Think I'll finish Row. Once again, thanks for letting me share.
Oh, and I gave up on not using my first name. Fickle me.
Troy
Comments
yes, Woodward's book, I confess I only read chunks of it standing in Costco, but I respect his reporting and the word is that he really got access to Bush.
I finished CR this morning and man did that book move me. Oh, salvation through the beauty of eros amidst a naturalistic, goofy, at times predatory but often funny and friendly world...that's the last 30 pages of that novel. That poem Steinbeck puts at the end...wait till you get there.
I have not read East of Eden. Next on my list.
t