Free Working Days by John Steinbeck Page B

forty-seven-acre spread in the Santa Cruz Mountains above Los Gatos. Even though it was the most stunning location they had ever seen, its original homestead was in utter disrepair, so besides buying the land the Steinbecks would also have to build a new house, and that too became the source of additional frustrations and distractions. They didn’t move there until November 1938—the month after the novel was finished (all final corrections of the typescript and galley proofs took place at the Biddle ranch)—but preparations for its purchase took up a great deal of Steinbeck’s time and energy from mid-July onward.
    Although Steinbeck insisted on effacing his own presence in The Grapes of Wrath, the fact is that it was a very personal book, invested with biographical import. In a general way, the “plodding” pace of Steinbeck’s writing schedule informed the slow, “crawling” movement of the Joads’ journey, while the harried beat of his own life gave the proper “feel” and tone to the beleagured Joads. Specifically, aspects of Steinbeck’s life bore directly on manuscript decisions. For instance, on July 12, confused by increasing distractions and lured by the possibility of owning the Biddle ranch, Steinbeck did not know which “general” chapter he would use next. During the planning session of Wednesday morning, July 13, he settled on what would become Chapter 14, one of the most important theoretical chapters in the novel, and perhaps the most significant summation of organismal philosophy Steinbeck had yet written. The first half of the chapter augurs changes in the Western states’ socioeconomic basis, and includes a paean to the universal human capacity for creation: “For man, unlike any other thing organic or inorganic in the universe, grows beyond his work, walks up the stairs of his concepts, emerges ahead of his accomplishments.” The second half of the chapter expresses the central core of Steinbeck’s mature phalanx theory, the creation of an aggregate, dynamic “we” from distinct, myriad selves. The summary quality of this chapter suggests that Steinbeck intended to use it later in the novel as a kind of climactic crescendo. Instead he inserted it at the midpoint of the novel for several reasons: its dithyrambic tone and heightened language reawakened his flagging attention; its optimistic, theoretical values restored focus and clarity to the narrative line; its extolment of creativity, based on humanity’s willingness to “suffer and die for a concept,” provided an immediate reminder that his own compositional process could be endured for the sake of the cause he espoused; and its concern for families who had lost their land may have partly assuaged his guilt, if not his sense of irony, as he was about to make the biggest property purchase of his life.
    Emerging ahead of his accomplishments seemed insurmountable at times that summer, because major interruptions kept occurring, any one of which might have sidetracked a lesser writer. August proved the most embattled time of all. Early in the month Steinbeck noted in his journal: “There are now four things or five rather to write through—throat, bankruptcy, Pare, ranch, and the book” (Entry #46). His litany of woes included Carol’s painful tonsil operation, which temporarily incapacitated her; the bankruptcy of Steinbeck’s publisher, Covici-Friede, which threatened the end of steady royalty payments and an uncertain publishing future for the novel he was writing; Pare Lorentz’s interest in making a film version of In Dubious Battle: the purchase of the Biddle ranch, which Carol wanted badly and Steinbeck felt compelled to buy for her (they argued over the pressure this caused); and the book itself, still untitled (and therefore still without “being”), which now seemed more recalcitrant than ever. “My work has been slowed by many people coming and beside I think I am a little tired,” he confessed to his agent.