"It was said that my New York licence plates would arouse interest and perhaps questions, since they were the only outward identifying marks I had. And so they did - perhaps twenty or thirty times in the whole trip. But such contacts followed an invariable pattern, somewhat as follows:
Local man: 'New York, huh?'
Me: 'Yep.'
Local man: 'I was there in nineteen thirty-eight - or was it thirty-nine? Alice, was it thirty-eight or thirty-nine we went to New York?'
Alice: 'It was thirty-six. I remember because it was the year Alfred died.'
Local man: 'Anyway, I hated it. Wouldn't live there if you paid me.'"
John Steinbeck is not one of my favourite writers. But I adore his Travels with Charley (In Search of America). Maybe because I would like to do exactly what he did: explore America from coast to coast with the help of a gentleman poodle.
Lots of interesting observations. Not to mention some hilarious passages. Coffee with whiskey, a dog whose "greatest fear is that someone will point out a rabbit and suggest that he chase it", an eerie night in a forest, coming up close and personal with racial conflicts in Louisiana, a magical description of Texas (that made me fall in love with the state despite never having been there), saving the lives of two coyotes.
Strangely enough, I don't think I've ever read a book set in the sixties before.
2 comments:
Ah Steinbeck. Travels with Charley was the first of his that I read. the 60's america.
The part where he finally gets back to NY, can't find his house and finally a cop finds him laughing at it all parked by a road.
Yes, a perfect ending! "I'm lost."
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