"The Grapes of Wrath" (Excerpts)
by John Steinbeck
by John Steinbeck
"The bank is something more than men, I tell you. It's the monster. Men made it, but they can't control it."
"It ain't that big. The whole United States ain't that big. It ain't that big. It ain't big enough. There ain't room enough for you an' me, for your kind an' my kind, for rich and poor together all in one country, for thieves and honest men. For hunger and fat."
"And the great owners, who must lose their land in an upheaval, the great owners with access to history, with eyes to read history and to know the great fact: when property accumulates in too few hands it is taken away. And that companion fact: when a majority of the people are hungry and cold they will take by force what they need. And the little screaming fact that sounds through all history: repression works only to strengthen and knit the repressed."
"How can you frighten a man whose hunger is not only in his own cramped stomach but in the wretched bellies of his children? You can't scare him- he has known a fear beyond every other."
"In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage...”
- John Steinbeck: American writer of “The Grapes of Wrath,” the 1939 Pulitzer
prize-winning novel. Born 1902. Died 1968. Nobel Prize for Literature 1962.
Sound familiar? If not, it will. Look around...
Freely download "The Grapes of Wrath", by John Steinbeck, here:
"Winners Who Won the Wind"
by Uncola, Doug Lynn
"They have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind..."
- Hosea 8:7
"In John Steinbeck’s masterpiece, “The Grapes of Wrath”, a tale is told of migrant families in the Great Depression living in ramshackle camps known as “Hoovervilles”. However, the characters in the book are not portrayed as stupid. On the contrary, they know what happened to them. One exchange between the characters goes like this:
“We’re sorry. It’s not us. It’s the monster. The bank isn’t like a man.” “Yes, but the bank is only made of men.” “No, you’re wrong there- quite wrong there. The bank is something else than men. It happens that every man in a bank hates what the bank does, and yet the bank does it. The bank is something more than men, I tell you. It’s the monster. Men made it, but they can’t control it. The bank– the monster, has to have profits all the time. It can’t wait. It’ll die. No, taxes go on. When the monster stops growing, it dies. It can’t stay one size.”
The protagonists in "The Grapes of Wrath", the Joad family, had difficulty living in their Hooterville and fared much better in their next camp which was run by the government. Ironically, during the next Great Depression that is almost here, life may again imitate art, except this time the Hootervilles will be called “Trump Towns” and the government camps will be run by FEMA.
In spite of the depressing subject matter, the beauty of the prose in "The Grapes of Wrath" is hauntingly eloquent. In its timeless message Steinbeck has captured what is about to again befall the United States citizenry once again with these words: “A large drop of sun lingered on the horizon and then dripped over and was gone, and the sky was brilliant over the spot where it had gone, and a torn cloud, like a bloody rag, hung over the spot of its going. And dusk crept over the sky from the eastern horizon, and darkness crept over the land from the east.”
Yes, darkness comes from the east and an ill wind blows. There is a chill in the air that feels like judgement or even revenge. The winners have won. Look at all they have won. The world in all of its entirety. The moocher classes have won a little more time to enjoy their free food, high definition televisions, low income housing and iPhones as they lip sync to their songs of hip hop and rap tunes in the ghettos. The high rollers have won consolidated global power, a lying media spinning statist narratives and ever growing bank accounts suckling imaginary green milk from the pigs in the pen of the Federal Reserve. They have won. Indeed, they have won, and at such a great bargain. All they had to trade in return were their nonexistent souls.”