RE-EVALUATING THE GRAPES OF WRATH:
THE BAKHTINIAN CONNECTION
by
STACY RICHARDS FURDEK, B.A.
A THESIS
IN
ENGLISH
Submitted to the Graduate Faculty
of Texas Tech University in
Partial Fulfillment of
the Requirements for
the Degree of
MASTER OF ARTS
Approved
Accepted
December, 2000
/]M^ w r ?
2 OS
T3
Copyright 2000, Stacy Richards Furdek
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I.
INTRODUCTION
n.
THEN AND NOW: THE RECEPTION OF
THE GRAPES OF WRATH
III.
1
4
MIKHAIL BAKHTIN AND THE DIALOGIC
PRINCIPLE
11
TV.
THE CARNTVALIZATION OF LITERATURE
15
V.
JOHN STEINBECK AND THE GRAPES OF WRA TH:
A BAKHTINIAN ANALYSIS
24
CONCLUSION
40
VI.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
41
11
CHAPTER 1
INTRODUCTION
Recently, I was asked to consider a teaching position with a small public school
district just outside of Lubbock, Texas, where I have resided for the past twelve years.
One of the questions posed during the interview dealt with literature I had read over the
past six months. As I began listing titles such as Doris Lessing's The Grass is Singing
and Salman Rushdie's Shame among others, the interviewer leaned back and remarked,
"Well, that's quite a list. What is it that motivates you to read like that?" I was a little
startled; I couldn't recall ever being asked that particular question, so I had to lean back
in consideration of the query myself Finally, I replied that, asidefi-omthe obvious fact
that graduate seminars in literature require a great deal of reading, my personal
motivation arises from a sense of curiosity: What makes a particular novel exceptional?
What are the distinguishing characteristics of a classic work of literature? And perhaps
most interesting to me, what makes one novel controversial and another acceptable in the
eyes of a given community? These are the questions which fijel not only my desire to
read, but also my desire to teach, to draw others into the debate that sometimes simmers,
sometimes rages aroimd the identification of works worthy of being included in our
Westem canon.
One method of drawing students into that debate has become easier with the
advent of internet technology. Using very simple search techniques, students are asked to
locate "Top Novels" lists online. These lists can be of any length and can be drawn from
any number of web sites, provided that, in the end, the student has in hand lists from both
scholarly and popular sources. We then compare the lists and make reading selections
based upon which novels appear most consistently in both categories. One can expect to
find such titles as James Joyce's Ulysses, William Faulkner's As I Lay Dying, and
hovering somewhere between numbers one and ten, John Steinbeck's The Grapes of
Wrath. This last is one of my personal favorites; in fact, it is the novel which initially
fiieled my own desire to study literature. I was immediately dravm into the story of the
downtrodden Okies who trekked across the westem United States with little more than
some pocket change and a tenuous hope borne of desperation; consequently, I began to
suspect that I might have been misguided in my constant efforts to thwart my teachers'
demands that I read the "classics.."
Once I completed my undergraduate degree and was certified to teach in the
Texas public school system, I was confronted with other elements of consideration
regarding certain novels and The Grapes of Wrath, in particular. On my first day as a
teacher in Lubbock, Texas, I swept confidently into the classroom armed with a wellwom copy of my favorite book and proceeded to inform my students (a somewhat surly
group of "honors" sophomores) that Steinbeck's most successfiil work would be required
reading for the entire class. With that, I handed out a beautifully written syllabus of the
entire unit and assigned the first section to be read for class the followmg day. Within
twenty-four hours, I had received no fewer than six phone calls from parents of various
students along with my first summons to the principal's office. Several parents had also
expressed their concem to the principal that their children were being required to read a
novel that was known to be both profane and blasphemous. I sat silently as the principal
explained that, while he had no personal objection to the novel, perhaps it would be wise
to make a different assignment, one that would not cause such unrest among these
parents. Mustering all of the courage available to a first-year teacher, I asked him
whether he or this vigilante group of parents had ever read the novel for themselves.
Immediately, the tone of the conversation changed from one of patient condescension to
hardened resolve. "That," he replied, "is not the point. The fact is that unhappy parents
are prone to contact the administrative officials downtown, who then contact me, and
frankly, I choose not to deal with it. Change the assignment."
' See two such lists as <http://wwwl.lib.ttu.edu:7951/getdo...344819@libraryj&dtype=0~0
&dinst=0> and <http://wwwl.lib.ttu.edu:7951/getdo... 161638@library_m&dtype=0~0&dinst=0>.
Such was my first exposure to commimity censorship and administrative politics
within the ranks of what must be one of the most conservative school districts in the
coimtry. The result of this initial conflict, along with many others of a similar nature, has
been an intense desire on my part to identify specific elements in given pieces of
literature which might be considered justification for banishment from the classroom and
to develop a cohesive argument in response to such bias. My goal in writing this paper is
to examine the most common complaints against The Grapes of Wrath by a given
community that will include, but not be limited to, the geographic area in which I teach as
well as the adjacent areas that serve as the setting for the novel. Furthermore, I will
propose a means by which The Grapes of Wrath can be viewed on a continuum which
may accoimt, at least in part, for the imdeniably ambivalent interplay among Steinbeck's
use of scriptural allusion, the characters, dialogue, and plot he constmcted within the
medium of the novel, and the primary audience to whom he writes. To this end, we will
consider the initial reception of the work as it relates to the corresponding objections
among readers, the theoretical basis upon which the current discussion will be based, and
a thorough analysis of the text using that critical method. My hope is that, by the end of
this discussion, my readers will have acquired a new perspective which may enable them
to view The Grapes of Wrath and other pieces of literature in a altogether different light
as well as a new willingness to step outside the prescribed parameters of reading which
have been established by groups whose myopic vision can only be described as
oppressive, and yes, ignorant.
CHAPTER II
THEN AND NOW: THE RECEPTION OF
THE GRAPES OF WRATH
Just after the publication of his novel Cannery Row in 1945, John Steinbeck wrote
to his friend and publisher Pat Covici, "There is a time in every writer's career when the
critics are gunning for him to whittle him down. This is my stage for that. It has been
ever since The Grapes of Wrath'' (Steinbeck, Elaine 278). Realistically, Steinbeck was
not so vilified as he seems to have believed. A study of the critical reception of The
Grapes of Wrath reveals that Steinbeck did indeed have a number of staimch supporters
among critics in the popular press. In the Saturday Review, George Stevens raves that the
novel is "worth all the talk, all the anticipation, all the enthusiasm" that had been
generated by those in the "'watch Steinbeck' movemenf (Stevens 157,158). For Joseph
Henry Jackson, who reviewed the novel for the New York Herald Tribune, The Grapes
of Wrath "is the full symphony, Steinbeck's declaration of faith" (162).
In Time
magazine, the novel is referred to as "one of the most impassioned books of the year"
("Okies" 163). Certainly, Steinbeck was gratified by such critical support, but to a man
who was never really confident in his own artistic ability, the negative reviews of his
work affected him far more deeply than the positive. In an article for New Statesman and
Nation, Anthony West predicted that The Grapes of Wrath would eventually "lie in that
honourable vault which houses the books that have died when their purpose as
propaganda had been served" (181). While admitting that the novel would almost
certainly be a Pulitzer Prize winner and immensely popular among the reading public,
Clifton Fadiman, reviewer for the New Yorker, was nevertheless compelled to qualify his
praise for the book, commenting that it is "too detailed, particularly in the latter half,"
that "the folk note is forced a little," and finally that the "ending is the tawdriest kind of
fake symbolism" (155). Kate O'Brien, writing for the English publication Spectator,
voices her opinion that Steinbeck "epitomizes the intolerable sentimentality of American
'realism,'" that he "wrecks a beautiful dialect with false cadences," and that he "is
frequently uncertain about where to end a sentence" (180).
Public criticism of The Grapes of Wrath, however, was not limited to professional
book reviewers. In spite of the fact that the book became an immediate best seller,
winning not only die prophesied Pulitzer in 1940, but also the 1962 Nobel Prize for
Literatiu-e, certain groups engaged in a concerted effort to discredit Steinbeck's story of
the victimized migrants and victimizing owners he depicted. Martin Shockley reported
that the Associated Farmers of Kem Coimty, California, released statements referring to
the book as "obscene sensationalism" and "propaganda in its vilest form"; the Kansas
City Board of Education banned the novel from Kansas City libraries, as did the Library
Board of East St. Louis, which demanded that the three copies owned by its library be
burned ("Reception" 118).
A high school English teacher in Oklahoma gave several
reviews of the book to various groups and received "comments ranging from one lady's
opinion that Ma Joad was a 'magnificent character,' to a lawyer's remark that 'such
people should be kept in their place'" (119). Denunciation of The Grapes of Wrath even
reached the floor of the United States House of Representatives, where Congressman
Lyle H. Boren of Oklahoma called the book "a lie, a black, infemal creation of a sick and
distorted mind" (Steinbeck, Working Days xxiv). Another Oklahoman, the Reverend W.
Lee Rector of Ardmore, labeled the novel a "heaven-shaming and Christ-insulting book,"
whose "masterly handling of profanity tends to 'popularize iniquity'" (Shockley,
"Reception" 127). By the time Mrs. Franklin D. Roosevelt toured the Califomia migrant
camps in April, 1940, one year after the initial publication of The Grapes of Wrath,
Steinbeck had fielded a great deal of criticism regarding the novel's supposed inaccuracy
and obscenity; consequently, he felt prompted to make the following response to the First
Lady's statement in The New York Times that her tour had only confirmed her belief that
^ The effect on Steinbeck of the antipathy expressed by such political powers as the Associated
Farmers can hardly be overemphasized. In 1989, Jaclc Kelley interviewed Horace Bristol who had been a
photographer for Life magazine during the 1930s. In 1938, Mr. Bristol became interested in developing a
photographic history of the migrant farm workers in Califomia, and he approached Steinbeck to write the
text for the project. Mr. Bristol stated that even at that time, Steinbeck "was ahnost paranoid about the
attitude of the farmers. They thought he was a communist, and he was afraid that the farmers were out to
get him. I would always have to sign for the motel—a different one each time—^because he didn't want to
be identified. We shared a room because he was worried about somebody sneaking up on him, things like
that" ("VOICES" 2).
Steinbeck had not exaggerated the plight of the migrants: " . . . thank you for your words.
I have been called a liar so constantly that sometimes I wonder whether I may not have
dreamed the things I saw and heard in the period of my research" (Steinbeck, Elaine
202). While Steinbeck was obviously gratified to receive validation of his integrity as a
writer, it should not be assumed that Mrs. Roosevelt's words had greater effect than any
other of Steinbeck's supporters in terms of convincing critics to take a kinder or less
vocal view of his novel. If Steinbeck's work could not be called entirely inaccurate, it
could certainly be labeled inappropriate—and in very colorful terms—as is evident in the
words of Randolph Bartlett:
The canine imprecation is strevm upon the pages with a pepperbox, and
becomes so meaningless that when it drops casually from the lips of a
twelve-year-old girl in the later episodes it is barely shocking. The
various appellations of deity roll lazily from every tongue. (McElrath xvi)
Such complaints were not unanticipated by Steinbeck and his publishers. When
Pascal Covici suggested that Steinbeck remove the epithet "shitheels" from chapter
fifteen in the original manuscript, Steinbeck was adamantly opposed, saying, "There is no
term like it. . . . It means something precise and I won't trade preciseness even if it's
colloquial preciseness" (Steinbeck, Elaine 176). We have in this example an illustration
of the primary conflict between Steinbeck and the official culture of Oklahoma: the
author sought to illuminate the lifestyles and attitudes of what was essentially the
unofficial and imacknowledged folk culture of Oklahoma and the surrounding states, and
the unadulterated tmth of Steinbeck's observations was offensive and in bad taste to
those members of society who preferred to deny the very existence of people such as the
Joads. Years later, when similar arguments were made against Cannery Row, Steinbeck
responded with the attitude which characterized his work (and infuriated his critics)
throughout his career: "In nature, two things do not occur—^the wheel and good taste"
(Steinbeck, Elaine 278).
It is this very attitude that serves to provide the primary focus of the current
discussion. In his introduction to a collection of essays tided Fifty Years of the American
Novel: A Christian Appraisal, Harold Gardiner says, "It is only when utter naturalism
fouls the picture [of human nature] diat the critic will protest that the novel has become
unhuman—and therefore, in a profound sense, irreligious" (8). Gardiner's comment is
indicative of the extent to which Steinbeck's work wrought havoc upon the American
perception of the novel as a genre, particularly in the South. Up to the early part of the
twentieth century, with very few exceptions, indigenous novelists wrote within the
imspoken parameters of polite society, and even when a novel addressed the seedier side
of reality in this country—such as Harriet Beecher Stowe's indictment of slavery in
Uncle Tom's Cabin—^novelists softened the blow by including characters who epitomized
the inherent goodness (i.e., Christian character) of the American people. Steinbeck's
work in The Grapes of Wrath, on the other hand, did little to uphold the ti-adition of
equating goodness with readily identifiable tenets of Christianity as outlined by organized
religion; instead, Steinbeck used unmistakable allusions to Christian Scripture and
characters in a way which created an entirely new paradigm for the representation of
Christianity in literature, a representation which many people considered sacrilegious.
Steinbeck would have been hard-pressed to find a more volatile battlefield upon
which to wage his literary war since the southem states, both then and now, constitute a
geographic region that has come to be known as the Bible Belt.
In this area of the
United States, the governing bodies, which include state legislatures, coimty and city
authorities, educational and business leaders, are composed predominantly of white
Protestant males of a decidedly conservative political bent, men indoctrinated with the
belief that our American forefathers established the tenets of this nation upon a
foundation of fundamentalist Christianity which must be jealously guarded against any
violation of principle, regardless of how patriarchal, elitist, or racist those principles
appear with the passage of time. This overall conservatism, which at times borders on
^ Interestingly, Steinbeck's first wife Carol chose as the title of his book an allusion to a line from
"The Battle Hymn of the Republic." The author was so taken with her suggestion that he not only agreed
to the title, but also insisted that the entire song, including both music and lyrics, be included in the initial
printing of the first edition of The Grapes of Wrath. Additionally, while Martin Shockley is correct in his
assertion that the novel's title indicates that the "story exists in Christian context," we should not overlook
the revolutionary context of the song itself and the consequent implication that any Christian reading of the
novel should not necessarily rely upon traditional interpretations (Shockley, "Christian Symbolism" 87).
the radical, remains firmly intact today, even among die general population. At the heart
of this conservative worid view is the widespread and deeply held conviction that the
Judeo-Christian Holy Bible is the incormptible, unalterable, and imassailable Word of
God; furthermore, the idea that the Bible should be read as anything other than the literal,
concrete embodiment of Divine will and revelation is generally considered heretical.
Consequently, The Grapes of Wrath stands as an enigma of mammoth proportions,
making obvious use of Biblical allusion, allegory, and voice in the creation of a nontraditional, liberal world view amoimting to what one critic refers to as Steinbeck's "new
seeing," a vision which would "exchange the myth of an American Eden, wdth its
dangerous flaws, for the idea of commitment—commitment to what Steinbeck called 'the
one inseparable unit man plus his environment'" (Owens 3).
In his essay, "John
Steinbeck: Life Affirmed and Dissolved," John S. Kennedy sums up the conservative
interpretation of Steinbeck's new vision:
. . . man has no individual identity . . . does not in fact exist. . . .
[Steinbeck reduces him to] that amalgamism which deprives the individual
of initiative, responsibility, value, even metaphysical being, and makes
him no more than a cell in a supposititious monstrosity called "group
man" or an inextricable aspect of a pseudo-mystical entity called the
"great big soul." (225)
The theory to which Kennedy is referring is one which Steinbeck first began
formulating in the early 1930s as a result of his interest and involvement in the work of
his friend Ed Ricketts, a marine biologist.
In a letter to a fiiend written in 1933,
Steinbeck explains that "[man] has been our final unit. But there have been mysterious
things which could not be explained if man is the final unit. He also arranges himself
into larger units which I have called the phalanx" (Steinbeck, Elaine 79).
As one
Steinbeck biographer explains it, " . . . men in groups, like all units of individual parts,
appear to connect to a larger spirit or will that existed somewhere beyond individual
response" (Parini 105).
Steinbeck himself takes the theory a step further in his
explanation that the "phalanx has emotions of which the unit man is incapable. Emotions
of destmction, of war, of migration, of hatred, of fear" (80). Fundamentalist critics argue
that because the phalanx theory appears to have its origins in the Darwinian idea of
8
evolution with its emphasis on animalistic instinct, it is intrinsically opposed to the
Judeo-Christian belief that man is essentially different from animals, that he has no
common ancestry with lower life forms. According to the Book of Genesis, "God said.
Let the waters bring forth abundantly the moving creature that hath life, and fowl that
may fly above the earth m the open firmament of heaven," and "Let the earth bring forth
the living creature after his kind, cattle, and creeping thing, and beast of the earth after his
kind" (1:20, 24). Conversely, when God created man. He said, "Let us make man in our
image, after our likeness. . . . in the image of God created he him; male and female
created he them" (1:26, 27). The interesting thmg to note, though, is that Steinbeck
himself perceived no such conflict with Biblical doctrine; in fact, he supported the
phalanx theory with Scripture, saying, "Religion is a phalanx emotion and this was so
clearly understood by the church fathers that they said the holy ghost would come when
two or three were gathered together ..." (Steinbeck, Elaine 80)."^
One of the most quoted statements that Steinbeck ever made regarding The
Grapes of Wrath is that "There are five layers in this book, [and] a reader will find as
many as he can and he won't find more than he has in himself (178-9). I look at the
Bible in much the same way, but having lived in the aforementioned region all my life, I
am acutely aware that the vast majority of Christians here are extremely resistant to any
reading of Scripture which differs from the denominational interpretations wdth which
they are familiar. Therefore, when any author makes obvious allusions to well-known
portions of the Bible in a maimer that seems at odds with traditional teachings, the
tendency is to respond with anger and fear. It is something like the Baptist preacher's
reluctance to present to his congregation the Gospel of Grace in its purest form; such an
act might backfire if the lambs in the pews were to draw the wrong
" Reference Matt. 18:20: "For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in
the midst of them."
conclusion from the tmth.^ It is a common practice, dien, not only in the Baptist church,
but in many other fundamentalist denominations, to present a hybrid gospel which serves
to temper the inherent freedom of salvation offered to believers with a strong dose of Old
Testament law. In this way, evangelists help ensure that Paul's injunction to the Romans
is never forgotten: "What shall we say then? Shall we continue in sin, that grace may
aboimd? God forbid" (Rom. 6.1). After all, why should God be personally bothered with
the sanctification of His own people when well-meaning, authoritarian church leaders
might spare Him the effort by scaring their congregations into enforced obedience?
Hence, the act of censorship becomes just one more step in the on-going process of
protective purification.
Of course, the most obvious response to the demands for censoring novelistic
literature for reasons such as historical or theological inaccuracy is that novels are, by
very definition, works of fiction; to demand that they adhere to the principles applied to
nonfiction is ludicrous and implies a general ignorance of literary genre and purpose. In
an effort to address all of these issues in a context appropriate to the task at hand, we will
consider in the foUowdng chapters the theoretical treatise propoimded by the Russian
scholar and writer Mikhail Bakhtin. We will begin with his ideas regarding the novel as
a genre, move to an explanation of what he calls the camivalization of literature, and
finally, develop a critical focus for the examination of The Grapes of Wrath based upon
Bakhtin's own conception of Christianity as it relates to his literary theory.
^ The Gospel of Grace is based upon the words of Jesus himself in such verses as John 3:15-18,
which state that Jesus is the Son of God, that He was sent as the instrument of man's salvation, and that any
man who acknowledges Jesus as the prophesied Messiah will have eternal life. The writer of the Book of
Hebrews even goes so far as to preach God's promise to those proclaiming Jesus as the Messiah: "For I
will be merciful to their unrighteousness, and their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more" (Heb.
8:12).
10
CHAPTER III
MIKHAIL BAKHTIN AND THE
DL\LOGIC PRINCIPLE
One reason for the enduring popularity of The Grapes of Wrath is its continued
ability to fuel discussion among various groups, all of whom feel compelled to answer
the multitude of perspectives given voice within the pages of this novel. One theorist
whose work specifically addresses the phenomenon of linguistically initiated interaction
between heterogeneous social groups is Mikhail Bakhtin. According to the Bakhtinian
theory of dialogism, language is groimded in the concept of dialogue, a give-and-take
exchange between a speaker/writer and a listener/reader/respondent where meaning
occurs in the marginal space between the communicants; additionally, Bakhtin views the
text of the novel itself as dialogic since this genre, imlike any other, utilizes the often
conflicting voices of various forms of social rhetoric (such as journalism, politics, and
religion) in the creation of an organic whole. Bakhtin refers to the multiple voices at
work within any given culture as heteroglossia, a term which "foregroimds the clash of
antagonistic social forces," and he uses the term polyphony with regard to the fully
realized form of the novel, a word coined to "describe Dostoevsky's 'multi-voiced'
novels, whereby author's and heroes' discourses interact on equal terms" (Morris 249).
For the purposes of the current discussion, Bakhtinian theory seems doubly appropriate
since the polyphonic nature of The Grapes of Wrath has served as a catalyst to a
significant number of heteroglossic debates that extend over the sixty-year period since
its publication and continue today.
The entire body of Bakhtin's study of the novel is based upon his understanding
of the evolutionary development of genre itself from the close of classical. He notes that
the ancients themselves discemed the division between the serious genres (the epic, the
history, and classical rhetoric, for example) and the developing serio-comical, but
Bakhtin takes this delineation a step further wdth the assertion diat the various forms of
11
the latter are often in active opposition to the serious genres. In a 1979 dissertation,
Philip Holland explained it this way:
As tragedy and epic enclose, Menippean forms open up, anatomize. The
serious forms comprehend man; the Menippean forms are based on man's
inability to know and contain his fate. . . . Seriocomic forms present a
challenge, open or covert, to literary and intellectual orthodoxy, a
challenge that is reflected not only in their philosophic content but also in
their stmcture and language. {Problems 106-7[fh])
The internally unifying aspects of stmcture and language in the serio-comical
genres are attributed by Bakhtin to the common bond they share wdth "camivalistic
folklore" wherein "there is a strong rhetorical element, but in the atmosphere of joyful
relativity characteristic of a carnival sense of the world this element is fundamentally
changed: there is a weakening of its one-sided rhetorical seriousness, its rationality, its
singular meaning, its dogmatism" (107). It is this camivalistic sense of die world that
lends certain generic characteristics to the serio-comical, one of which is that the literary
distance of the epic and tragedy are absent so that the emphasis is on the present day and
a constant state of open-ended change. There is no reliance on legend; free invention and
experience take its place in the serio-comical. These genres also take on a "deliberate
multi-styled and hetero-voiced nature" through the insertion of other forms of rhetoric
such as journalism, letters, parody, and poetry (108).
Bakhtin begins with a discussion of the Socratic dialogue, an ancient rhetorical
model which emerged from its base in camivalistic folklore as a sort of remembrance of
the actual conversations conducted by Socrates, but, like any oral form, it soon took on a
life of its own and was ultimately separated from its rhetorical roots; it did, however,
retain its essential ability to reveal tmth through dialogue, and this becomes the basis
both for the dialogic principle and the primary function of what Bakhtin calls
camivalized literature:
The dialogic means of seeking tmth is counterposed to official
monologism, which pretends to possess a ready-made truth, and it is also
counterposed to the naive self-confidence of those people who think that
they know something, that is, who think that they possess certain tmths.
(110)
12
In order to accomplish its purpose, the Socratic dialogue utilized two basic devices:
syncrisis and anacrisis. The term syncrisis refers to the reversal, or juxtaposition, of
differing perspectives on an issue, and anacrisis is "the provocation of the word by the
word," the forcing of one's opponent to articulate his position, thus revealing through
spoken language any deficiencies in the logic or reason of his argument (111).
It is from the vestiges of the Socratic dialogue diat the Menippean satire begins to
emerge as a primary carrier of the camivalistic heritage and an integral bridge to the
development of the camivalized novel. In the menippea, we find a much increased comic
element which leads to a new freedom of invention in terms of philosophy and plot.
There is also a growing incidence in the use of the fantastic and adventure for the creation
of extraordinary situations created for the sole purpose of testing a philosophical tmth
which usually takes the form of a wise man (114). It is important to remember, however,
that the menippea is not concemed with any individual or character; the seeker of tmth is
the embodiment of an idea which is itself embarking on an adventiwe intended to test the
philosophical stance postulated. Another integral aspect of this genre is what Bakhtin
calls slum naturalism, wherein the "adventures of tmth on earth take place on the high
road, in brothels, in the dens of thieves, in tavems, marketplaces, prisons, in the erotic
orgies of secret cults, and so forth" (115). Along wdth its willingness to venture into the
darkest regions, the menippea maintains a concem wdth life's "ultimate questions," the
pursuit of which is often portrayed in the form of "threshold dialogues" which occur
along the boimdaries of life and death, in the heavens and in hell. This genre also
explores scandals, eccentricities, sharp contrasts, and incompatible images, while
incorporating elements of social Utopia in the form of dreams or imaginary joumeys into
the unknown, all of which help to "destroy the epic and tragic wholeness" of both man
and his world (116-7). It parodies various inserted prose and poetic genres that serve to
reinforce the evolving hetero-voiced nature of the serio-comical genres, and, finally, h
reflects—^as an organic feature of its combined elements—a concem wdth contemporary
issues.
13
This last point is especially important considering the epoch from which the
Menippean satire emerged. It was a time of intense stmggle among various philosophical
schools of thought, religious movements, and social orders. People at all levels of society
were engaged in debates of the very ultimate questions which were being tested in the
menippea, and these debates took place wherever people met or gathered, whether in the
churchyard, the courts of royalty, or the haimts of society's dregs.
Perhaps most
important to our discussion, it was the epoch of an emerging religion that would shake
the world to its very foimdations: Christianity. As Bakhtin points out, the Menippean
satire "possessed an inner logic, insuring the indissoluble linking up of all its elements"
as well as a "great extemal plasticity and a remarkable capacity to absorb into itself
kindred small genres, and to penetrate as a component element mto other large genres"
(119). But before we can explore the implications of the penetrative and absorptive
power inherent in the menippea, it is important to understand precisely what Bakhtin
meant when he identified the common bond between the various forms of the seriocomical genres as camivalistic folklore since it is precisely the carnival sense of the
world which animates not only the serio-comical genres, but all of the related literary
forms leading up to and including the polyphonic novel.
14
CHAPTER rV
THE CARNTVALIZATION OF
LITERATURE
When the term carnival is used today, the immediate association is wdth the very
literal sense of the word: a huge party in the streets during which the normal prohibitions
on behavior and social etiquette are suspended. The most common image of carnival m
modem-day America is that of Mardi Gras wdth its masks and costumes, mock rituals,
and uninhibited debauchery bordering on anarchy, all in anticipation of the coming
restrictions of Lent. However, when Bakhtin refers to carnival, he is speaking more of a
complex system of language which has evolved from the most ancient carnival gestures,
a language which translates into a unique sense of the world;fiirthermore,those echoes
of carnival which can be heard in the novel are not actually a literary phenomenon at all,
but rather a manifestation of a revolutionary spirit which, in effect, breaks into the
literature of particular periods of social, religious, or philosophical crisis throughout
history. In his book Reading Esther: A Case for the Carnivalesque, Keimeth Craig
states, "While the carnivalesque has its roots in ancient culture, it only emerges in those
moments in history when decentralization of a culture has undermined the authority of
social establishments, national myths, and correct languages" (37). Bakhtin himself had
a keen awareness of such revolutionary moments in history, a fact that is evident in his
landmark study of carnival images in the Renaissance novel; perhaps even more
significantly, Bakhtin's theory of the novelistic genre as a revolutionary form animated
by carnival images reached maturity during a cmcial moment in Russian history.
Bakhtin's treatise on the subject, Rabelais and His World, was initially suppressed and
remained unpublished until 1965 since it was viewed as a thinly veiled criticism of Stalin
and his government.^ However, I agree wdtii the argument made by Clark and Holquist
^ In his prologue to Bakhtin's Rabelais and His World, Michael Holquist notes that Bakhtin first
began his analysis of Rabelais in the 1930s. In 1940, Bakhtin submitted his work in the form of a thesis to
the Gorky Institute of World Literature, but a series of political obstacles blocked publication of the actual
book for the next twenty-five years (xix-xxi).
15
that Rabelais and His World appears to be less a direct attack on Stalinism than an effort
on Bakhtin's part to posit a new means of examinmg the contemporary issues of the
times, namely the need for a new mode of interpreting a post-revolutionary worid which
has been cut off from its past.^ As such, Bakhtin's work is not merely a study of the
revolutionary power of the camivalized novel; it is revolutionary itself in that its very
form presents a threat to the vertical ordering of hierarchical stmcttire in official society.
First, it is important to understand that during carnival, all of the folk live
according to the laws of carnival; diat is, all that is official and subject to authoritarian
law is suspended in favor of what Bakhtin calls Xh.Qfi-eeand familiar contact among
people. The result of this loosening of official restriction and hierarchical social barriers
is the emergence of eccentricity among die folk as inhibitions are broken down and latent
aspects of human interaction and expression emerge. A third aspect of camivalized
reality is the camivalistic mesalliance, the natural outgrowth of the first two categories in
which the carnival sense of the worid alters and tt-ansposes all aspects of everyday
existence. To this end, carnival "brings together, unifies, weds, and combines the sacred
wdth die profane, the lofty with the low, die great with the insignificant, die wise wdth die
stupid" (123).
The totality of these categories of camival expression lead to the
profanation of all that is official, all that is revered, all diat is held sacred and apart from
the people.
Bakhtin also points to certain camivalistic acts that are dualistic and ambivalent,
a form of the fun-house mirrors which reflect the "gay and free laughing aspect of the
world, wdth its unfinished and open character, wdth the joy of change and renewal"
(Holquist 301). One of these acts which is indispensable to camival is the mock
crowning and decrovming, a dualistic ritual in which the fool becomes a king, receiving
(in parodic form) all the regal vestments of royalty only to have them stripped away and
to be ridiculed and beaten. Again, the essence of this ritual is its duality; always behind
the crowning looms the decrowning and vice versa, thus embodying the inherent camival
^ For further discussion on this particular topic, see Mikhail Bakhtin, 308-09.
16
principle of "constmctive death," where nothing is ever tmly finished but is instead in a
state of dynamic evolution. Bakhtin states emphatically that, because of the power of this
image, it is one of die mostfrequentlytransposed rituals to appear in literature and is die
embodiment of all that is camival since it reflects the sudden shifts and transitions which
decenter official dogma and oppression. Likewise, all camival images are dualistic in
nature, organically combining opposite poles of change wdth the inevitable crisis it
brings.
Inherent in these contrasting yet inseparable images is camivalistic laughter.
Bakhtin views the general division between the official and unofficial as a particular
distinction between the attitudes of high and low culture toward laughter. In the official
realm, laughter is taboo wdthin the context of rituals such as coronations, marriage
ceremonies, funerals, and virtually all other rites of passage. The enforcement of this
imspoken mle of society is maintained by a pervasive imdercurrent of fear which, though
largely imacknowledged, is potent enough to feed the oppressive force of authoritarian
restrictions upon social, economic, and religious behavior, at least under normal
circumstances. In contrast, laughter is universal and festive wdthin the unofficial culture
of the folk, cormected wdth change, renewal, and the expression of hope.
This
camivalistic laughter has its source in what Bakhtin calls the "camival square," the stage
upon which camival is enacted, where people come into familiar contact wdth one another
and where all camivalistic rituals take place:
In camivalized literature the square, as a setting for the action of the plot,
becomes two-leveled and ambivalent: it is as if there glimmered through the
actual square the camival square of free familiar contact and communal
performances of crowning and decrowning. Other places of action as well
(provided they are realistically motivated by the plot, of course) can, if they
become meeting- and contact-points for heterogeneous people—streets,
tavems, roads, bathhouses, decks of ships, and so on—^take on this additional
camival-square significance. (Problems 128)
Closely associated wdth camivalistic laughter as it manifests in literature is
parody, an element that is, like laughter itself, foreign to die serious genres such as die
epic and tragedy but inherent in the serio-comical genres such as the Menippean satire.
17
itself a thoroughly camivalized genre. Bakhtin points out that the modem form of
literary parody has lost its organic connection to the camival sense of the world, but in
the works of such Renaissance authors as Rabelais and Cervantes, parody "was
ambivalent and sensed its bond wddi deadi/renewal" {Problems 128). The result in
modem literature is what Gary Saul Morson and Caryl Emerson have termed rire
absorbe, or "reabsorbed laughter," wherein "serious works steal or absorb comic
ingredients while suppressing the laughter" {Rethinking 289). This reduced laughter
often emerges in modem literature in the form of irony, but always it remembers its
coimection to the camival laughter of antiquity which served to annihilate fear and
embrace change.
We can draw several important conclusions at this point based upon Bakhtin's
assertions. First, literature developed as a means of expressing, through the written word,
the ideology behind certain human behaviors. Furthermore, the behaviors themselves
animate the written word, which then becomes a dynamic phenomenon, mirroring life in
its ability to constantly renew itself, even in the face of blatant oppression. And finally,
the most advanced evolution of the word is embodied in the polyphonic nature of the
camivalized novel. We should also note that while Bakhtin was working primarily wdth
the study of the European novel and its resulting form in the writing of Dostoevsky, it
would be highly erroneous to limit the implications of his theories to the boundaries
Bakhtin himself reached. Just as the ambivalent and dual nature of camivalized reality
precludes any hard-and-fast conclusions, Bakhtin believed that "there can be no final
word (except perhaps the Word embodied in the Christian God), since every utterance,
every word, inevitably enters into a dialogue which stretches unendingly into the past and
thefiittire"(Morris 245).
This last assertion brings us to an interesting aspect of the Bakhtinian tiieory of
camival and its power to penetrate other genres, an aspect which has often been
dismissed as unimportant but is, nevertheless, critical to die current discussion:
specifically, Bakhtin's ideas concerning die camivalization of Christian literature. In his
study of Dostoevsky, Bakhtin inft-oduces this aspect of his dieory by discussing the
18
absorption of the diatribe into the genre of the Menippean satire.
This point is
particularly important since Bakhtin asserts that, "it was precisely the diattibe, and not
classical rhetoric, that exercised a defming influence on the generic characteristics of the
ancient Christian sermon" {Problems 120). Many Christian writings, including the
canonical Gospels and other books of the New Testament, bear evidence of menippean
influence; consequently, we can say that these writings exhibit signs of the same type of
indirect yet intrinsically binding camivalization that we find at work as the organizing
principle of the menippea, a fact which is also noted by Clark and Holquist: "The living
phenomena of camival and dialogue found their positive significance, Bakhtin argues, in
the person of Christ, and then* highest textual expression in the Christian Gospels"
{Mikhail Bakhtin 251). For example, free and familiar contact among members of
different levels of society is key to the life and ministry of Jesus. As the prophesied
Messiah and professed Son of God, Jesus is the ultimate manifestation of royalty. Even
when considered from the perspective of his denouncers, Jesus fits this model since his
genealogy can be traced all the way back through the Jewish kings, the Patriarchs, and
finally to Adam.^
His royal status, though, does not preclude his association wdth
representatives of every level of society, from the most revered to the most reviled: the
Magi attend his birth. He becomes a teacher of teachers at a young age, the twelve
disciples include fishermen and tax collectors, and the Gospels contain accounts of
encounters wdth prostitutes, beggars, outcasts, soldiers and government leaders, men of
wealth and hermits. The camivalized menippean element of eccentricity is inherent in
many of these encounters, not least of which is the relationship of Jesus and John the
Baptist, the desert hermit who "had his raiment of camel's hair, and a leathem gfrdle
* The first book of the Pentateuch (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy)
establishes the beginning of the genealogy of Jesus Christ and the origins of the Nation of Israel as God's
chosen people. Also known as "the highway of Seed," the bloodline occurs in the following order: Adam,
Abel, Seth, Noah (Gen. 6:8-10), Shem (Gen 9:26-27), Abraham (Gen. 12:1-4), Isaac (Gen. 17:19-21),
Jacob (Gen. 28:10-14), Judah (Gen. 49:10), David (2 Sam. 7:5-17), and Immanuel-Christ (Isa. 7:10-14;
Matt. 1:1, 20-23; John 12:31-33; 1 John 3:8). The fourth chapter of Luke offers a more extensive
genealogy (Luke 4:23-38).
19
about his loins; and his meat was locusts and wild honey" (Matt. 3:4).^ The element of
camivalistic mesalliance is evident in the most vocal complaints of die Pharisees, the
disciples of John, and even Jesus' own disciples regarding his unorthodox behavior, such
as his refusal to have his disciples fast during die period of his ministty (Matt. 9:14-17),
his habit of fraternizing wdth unsavory characters (Matt. 9:10-11, 15:23-28, 19:13-15;
Luke 7:36-50), and his refiisal to accept legalism (Mark 7:5-15). Nattirally, each of diese
acts of Jesus are viewed by authoritarian forces as profanation of the sacred.
Perhaps the most obviously camivalized element of the Gospels can be seen in the
act of crowning and decrowning. As was noted earlier, duality is at die heart of both the
ritual itself and its manifestation in literature; always in the act of crowning will be the
implication of decrowning and vice versa. According to the Gospel of St. John, the very
first intimation of Jesus' royalty lies in his incamation as God in the flesh: "In the
beginning was the Word, and the Word was wdth God, and the Word was God. . . . And
the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory as of the oidy
begotten of the Father,) full of grace and tmth" (John 1:1, 14). The Christian befief m the
appearance of God among men as a man represents the consummate camivalized
juxtaposition: a precipitous leap from the glorious position of universal Creator to the
most humble and vulnerable of human stations. Not surprisingly, however, Bakhtin's
perception of Christianity rests primarily upon considerations of corpus Christi—^the
actual living body of the man, Jesus—and echoes his interest in the manifestation of
camival in literature as a celebration of "the body, the senses and the unofficial,
uncanonized relations among human beings" (Danow 3). Furthermore, the aspects of the
kenotic tradition which most influenced Bakhtin's ideas were those of a "radical
communality {sobomostj' in conjunction wdth a "profound respect for the material
realities of everyday experience" (Clark/Holquist 85). Clark and Holquist also note
Bakhtin's assertion that "the account in the canonical Gospels of the 'King of the Jews'
entering the Jewish capital on a lowly donkey and die crown of thoms diat is an
^ The life and purpose of John the Baptist is believed to have been prophesied in Isaiah 40:3: "The
voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a
highway for our God."
20
anticrown" is preeminent evidence of menippean camivalization in diese writings (250).
His point is well-taken when one considers that the biblical narrative closely parallels die
mock rittial of die fool's crowning and decrowning upon die camival square; Jesus is
stripped, beaten, spat upon, and dressed in a parody of royal regalia. Rudi Coates makes
the following observation in her thorough discussion of die subject in Christianity in
Bakhtin: God and the Exiled Author:
Bakhtin understands die rogue, clown, and fool to influence the novel in
two ways: by providing a model for the authorial position, and by dieir
appearance in a given work as its major protagonist
Clearly, Jesus is
the fool-protagonist of die gospels and the physically absent yet allpervasive organizing idea of the Epistles that exercises an enormous
influence over the Bible's readership. (145)
The idea of referring to Jesus as a "fool" would be enough to alienate most
Westemers, who are completely unfamiliar wddi die context of die Bakhtinian reference.
Consider as well Bakhtin's contemplation of Jesus wddi regard to the corporeal body as
opposed to the official image of Jesus as God incamate combined wdth the notion that
Jesus' words to the rich young mler should be taken as a literal injunction to relinquish
all woridly goods, and the likelihood of Bakhtin's theories being enthusiastically received
by the Christian Right become extt-emely slim.'° konically, diough, the foundational
principles of the fundamentalist belief system as recorded m the Bible provide perhaps
the most graphic example in literature of the concepts at the heart of Bakhtin's theory of
camival, and especially of the dualistic nature of the act of crowning and decrowning.
We can take this idea even further by considering the metaphysical proposition that
'° In the biblical narrative of the rich young ruler, Jesus is approached by a young man who asks,
"Good Master, what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?" Jesus responds, "One thing thou lackest: go
thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt havefreasurein heaven: and come,
taice up the cross, and follow me." The young man's countenance falls, and he departs in grief because "he
had great possessions." Jesus turns then to his disciples and says, "How hardly shall they that have riches
enter into the kingdom of God! . . . It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich
man to enter into the kingdom of God." (Mark 10:17-25) See also Matthew 19:16-24).
21
Jesus' incamation was preordained from the very beginning of time so that his eventual
"decrowning" is foreshadowed through die entire Old Testament, and the Resurrection,
Ascension, and promise of the Second Advent represent Jesus' reclamation of the
crown.
Furthermore, just as the dualistic nature of the crovming/decrowning ritual
embodies the camivalistic principle of "constmctive death," so the concept of the Trinity
establishes a parallel principle in Christianity, in part through the promise of Jesus
himself:
"It is expedient for you that I go away: for if I go not away, the Comforter
wdll not come unto you; but if I depart, I will send him unto you
Howbeit when he, die Spirit of tmth, is come, he wdll guide you into all
tmth: for he shall not speak of himself; but whatsoever he shall hear, that
shall he speak: and he wdll show you things to come. He shall glorify me:
for he shall receive of mine, and shall show // unto you."
(John 16:7, 13-15)
The descent of the Holy Spirit on the day of Pentecost is recorded in the Acts of the
Apostles, and from that day forward, Jesus' disciples—^as well as all who accepted their
teaching—^were empowered to perform the miraculous through the re-established
cormection to God via Jesus' atoning act of sacrifice and the presence among believers of
the Holy Spirit.
Still the dilemma remains: How can the Christian in our culture overcome the
deeply ingrained fear of reconsidering the teachings of his youth when the very act of
questioning may constitute an act of blasphemous rebellion? The answer may possibly
be found in another aspect of Bakhtin's stance on Christianity which is also closely
related to his thoughts on the camivalization of literature: the relation of camival
" According to the tenets of fundamentalist Christianity, man's fall from grace in the Garden of
Eden precipitated the need for a Savior since the occurrence of Original Sin effectively separated man from
God;fiirthermore,God makes initial provision for this need (and also foreshadows the Immaculate
Conception) in his promise of vengeance upon the serpent: "And I will put enmity between thee and the
woman, and between thy seed and her seed: it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel" (Gen.
3:15). (Italics mine.) The promise of a messiah is reiterated throughout the Old Testament in over forty
different verses. See the Index of Chain Topics, #2890, p. 1793, in The Thompson Chain-Reference Bible.
22
laughter in the lives of the folk to die role of love in die Gospels. In Rabelais and His
World, Bakhtin asserts the following:
It was the victory of laughter over fear that most impressed medieval man.
It was not only a victory over mystic terror of God, but also a victory over
that awe inspired by the forces of nature, and most of all over the
oppression and guilt related to all that was consecrated and forbidden
("mana" and "taboo"). It was the defeat of divine and human power, of
authoritarian commandments and prohibitions, of death and punishment
after death, hell and all that is more terrifying than die earth itself (90-1)
Similarly, the Gospel accounts of Jesus' ministry, cmcifixion, and resurrection
represent the victory of atoning acts of love over damning acts of sin. It was love of man
that prompted God to sacrifice his Son for humanity, an act which effectively nullifies the
Old Testament image of a punishing, vengeful God. It was Jesus' love for man which
prompted him not only to accept his own fate, but even to go so far as to ask God's
forgiveness of those who participated in his execution. Love was the compelling factor
in numerous acts of mercy and of the miraculous by Jesus, both for strangers and for
those closest to him, even when they openly doubted his divinity. And in the end, it was
love that took precedence over and served as fulfillment of all Old Testament law wdth its
threat of damnation and etemal separation from God. It is my contention that the
camivalized novel of the twentieth century—^particularly those which utilize New
Testament allusion in the development of revolutionary themes—can serve as an example
of a dynamic re-evaluation of modem Christian thought. Furthermore, I believe that The
Grapes of Wrath is an extraordinary example of such a piece of literature, and wdth that
in mind, we can now tum to a consideration of just how these concepts work wdthin the
novel itself.
23
CHAPTER V
JOHN STEINBECK
AND THE GRAPES OF WRATH:
A BAKHTINL\N ANALYSIS
In his discussion of Dostoevsky's novels, Bakhtin is careful to underscore the
point diat Dostoevsky never deliberately stylized his work in the tradition of such ancient
genres as die Socratic dialogue or die Menippean satire, but that certain elements of these
ancient forms are preserved m the contemporary form of the polyphonic novel. Bakhtin
explains it thus:
A literary genre . . . reflects the most stable, "etemal" tendencies in
literature's development. Always preserved in a genre are undying
elements of the archaic. Tme, these archaic elements are preserved in it
only thanks to their constant renewal, which is to say, their
contemporization. . . . Genre is rebom and renewed at every new stage in
the development of literature and in every individual work of a given
genre. This constitutes the life of the genre. Therefore even the archaic
elements preserved in a genre are not dead but etemally alive; that is,
archaic elements are capable of renewing themselves. A genre lives in the
present, but always remembers its past, its beginning. {Problems 106)
Bakhtin places the genesis of the novel's evolutionary development wdthin the period
during which the serio-comic genres emerged as separate from and opposed to such
traditional forms as the epic, the history, and the tragedy. He notes that the unifying
aspects of the various genres of the serio-comical can be found in their links to
camivalistic folklore, and fiirthermore, that any literature influenced by this folklore,
"directly and without mediation, or indirectly, through a series of intermediate links,"
qualifies as camivalized literature (107). In order to place The Grapes of Wrath wdthin
the tradition of the carnivalesque, we wdll begin at the beginning—wdth its links to the
serio-comical in general.
One generic characteristic of the serio-comical is its emphasis on the present and
an on-going process of change. In Steinbeck's novel, the plot revolves around the thencontemporary issue of the changing face of America's agricultural industry and economic
24
landscape along wdth the resulting displacement of thousands of American families. In
fact, the concept of change becomes a primary theme of the novel both through the
experience of major characters in the narrative chapters and through the various voices
developed in the intercalary chapters. For example, when we first meet Casy, he has just
returned from a time in the "wdldemess" during which the foundations of his entire belief
system have been altered. He no longer counts himself among those who have no
questions, believing life to be "a map wdth every winding and turning of the road fair set
forth" (Ketmedy 7). His convictions are equally as strong as they were during the period
of his preaching, but they are no longer rooted in the fire-and-brimstone theology of
fundamentalist Christianity; instead, he is coming to a new understanding of the relation
of men to God and to one another:
"I figgered about the Holy Sperit and the Jesus road. I figgered, 'Why
do we got to hang it on God or Jesus? Maybe,' Ifiggered,'maybe it's all
men an' all women we love; maybe that's the Holy Sperit—^the human
sperit—^die whole shebang. Maybe all men got one big soul ever'body's a
part o f Now I sat diere thinkin' it, an' all of a suddent—I knew it. I
knew it so deep down that h was tme, and I still know it." (Steinbeck,
Grapes 31)
Another character who articulates the theme of change is Ma. hiitially, her actions speak
louder than words as she symbolically bums the past, represented in die letters,
newspaper clippings, and keepsakes she has saved over the years in a tattered old
shoebox. This act signifies her acceptance of the family's changing reality, and as the
"citadel of die family," she takes upon herself the role of acclimating the others to a new
mode of life which demands that diey adapt quickly to unfamiliar, and often threatening,
sittiations (95). Even in the face of the extt-eme adversity experienced by the remaining
members of the family toward the novel's end. Ma expresses the perspective which keeps
her—and the others—going: " . . . it's all one flow, like a stream, little eddies, little
waterfalls, but the river, it goes right on
We ain't gonna die out. People is goin'
on-^hangin' a little, maybe, but goin' right on" (542). However, die character who
undergoes the most profound change throughout die course of die novel is Tom. When
Tom first appears, he has just been released from federal prison, where he served four
25
years for killing another man in a fight^ outside a bar. Even though he cares for his
family, Tom is primarily concemed wdth his own interests. He feels no remorse for the
killing and even tells Casy that he would do the same again in a similar situation. He has
no desire to involve himself with people outside of the family and is content to live one
day at a time without too much concem for the future. He is drawn to Casy, though, and
as the story progresses Tom begins to question his own role among those in exodus to
Califomia. By novel's end, he has experienced a complete psychic change; as a result, he
leaves the family to take up the cause for which Casy died.
In addition to the experience of the characters, Steinbeck devotes an entire
intercalary chapter to the theme of change, utilizing such methods as poetic repetition,
journalistic documentation, and apocalyptic tone to convey the weight of this idea and its
effect upon the people, methods which reflect yet another characteristic of the seriocomical which survives in the modem polyphonic novel, a "multi-styled, hetero-voiced
nature":
The westem land, nervous under the beginning change. The Westem
States, nervous as horses before a thunder storm, the great owners,
nervous, sensing a change, knowing nothing of the nature of the change.
. . . This you may say of man—^when theories change and crash, when
schools, philosophies, when narrow dark alleys of thought, national,
religious, economic, grow and dismtegrate, man reaches, stumbles
forward, painfully, mistakenly sometimes. Having stepped forward, he
may slip back, but only half a step, never the full step back. This you may
say and know it and know it. . . . Here is the anlage of the thmg you fear.
This is the zygote. For here "I lost my land" is changed; a cell is split and
from its splitting grows the thing you hate—^"We lost our land
This is
the beginning—from'T' to "we." (192-94)
Other intercalary chapters serve to increase die multiplicity of voices m the novel
as well. For example, chapter five depicts in narrative form the voices of the bewildered
sharecropper in concert wdth the business-like callousness of die owner who coldly
delivers news of impending foreclosure. Chapter seven gives voice to the opportunistic
salesmen who feed upon the poweriessness of those forced to move off die land.
Personification and poetic description give voice to the deserted land itself in chapter
eleven, and the rhydimic march of city names along Route 66 through the westem states
26
combined wdth the frantic voices of families on the move with ordy that which could be
packed into creaking old jalopies convey the growing sense of urgency among the
migrant farmers in chapter twelve:
Edmond, McLoud, Pureed, 66 out of Oklahoma City; El Reno and
Clinton, going west on 66. Hydro, Elk City, and Texola; and there's an
end to Oklahoma. 66 across the Panhandle of Texas. Shamrock and
McLean, Conway and Amarillo, the yellow. Wildorado and Vega and
Boise, and there's an end of Texas. Tucumcari and Santa Rosa and into
the New Mexican mountains to Albuquerque, where the road comes down
from Santa F e . . . .
Daimy in the back seat wants a cup of water.
Have to wait. Got no water here.
Listen—^that the rear end? . . .
There goes a gasket. Got to go on. Listen to her whistle. Find a nice
place to camp an' I'll jerk the head off. But, God Awmighty, the food's
gettin' low, tiie money's gettin' low. When we can't buy no more gas—
what then?
Darmy in the back seat wants a cup of water....
Listen to that gasket whistle.
Chee-rist! There she went. Blowed tube an' casing all to hell. Have to
fix her. Save that casing to make boots, cut 'em out an' stick 'em inside a
weak place....
Daimy wants a cup of water....
Darmy wants a cup of water....
Two hundred and fifty thousand people over the road. Fifty thousand
old cars—^wounded, steaming. Wrecks along the road, abandoned. Well,
what happened to them? What happened to the folks in that car? Did
they walk? Where are they? Where does the courage come from? Where
does the terrible faith come from? (151-52,155-56)
In chapter fifteen, Steinbeck again utilizes the marching effect of lists, this time naming
the low-rent diners along the road, the songs on their juke boxes, brand names of overthe-counter medicines, and various menu items prepared by generic cooks and served by
middle-aged waitresses who cater to tmckers and resent die smug complacency of harried
businessmen and their condescending wives. Chapter twenty-three depicts the voices of
the people as diey gather along the roadside at night, and in chapter twenty-five, die
fertile land of Califomia speaks dirough the poetic descriptions of ripening produce.
Then we begin to hear die voices of the workers who harvest the produce, who see die
27
abundance all around them, and who witness the destmction of life-saving crops in an
effort to keep market prices high while dieir children stmggle against the horrors of
starvation, and we hear again the apocalyptic tone heralding the coming revolution:
The people come wdth nets to fish for potatoes in the river, and the
guards hold them back; they come in rattling cars to get the dumped
oranges, but the kerosene is sprayed. And they stand still and watch the
potatoes float by, listen to the screaming pigs being killed in a ditch and
covered wdth quicklime, watch the mountains of oranges slop down to a
putrefying ooze; and in the eyes of the people there is the failure; and in
the eyes of the hungry there is a growing wrath. In the souls of the people
the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the
vintage. (449)
The effect of this symphony of various voices and styles is very similar to that
achieved in the ancient Socratic dialogue through the device of syncrisis. The intercalary
chapters serve to illustrate the plight of the migrants, the economic situation that brought
about the problem, and the perspective of the different groups representing the official
levels of society, such as the landowners, businessmen, and agricultural interests. In
contrast, the narrative chapters give the reader a microcosmic view of the life and
experience of one family caught up in the maelstrom of the mass transition taking place
in America at that time. The result is anacrisis, wdth the novel itself provoking a public
dialogue among opposing forces, a dialogue that certairdy, in my opinion, reveals
deficiencies in the logic and reason of arguments leveled against Steinbeck and his work.
For example, the charge that the novel is purely propagandistic and, as such, wdll quickly
lose its powerful effect on readers has already been proven incorrect. The book was
written over sixty years ago, and it continues—obviously—^to fuel discussions that extend
far beyond the issues facing migrant farm workers in Califomia during the late 1930s.
Kate O'Brien's comment regarding what she views as Steinbeck's faulty rendition of the
southem dialect strikes me as somewhat naive. Anyone who has actually lived in the
South is aware that dialectical differences are die mle, not die exception; to insinuate that
one soudiem dialect exists as the standard for all Soudiemers is quite simply incorrect.
Objections to the profane nature of die language in the novel are equally inappropriate
considering Steinbeck's purpose: to depict die characters in the novel as realistically as
28
possible. Whether or not then* choice of words is appropriate for polite society is a moot
point; Steinbeck was writing neither for nor about polite society. His concem was wdth
"working stiffs," people wdth whom he had lived and worked during the period of his
research, and he said of their language that he had "rarely heard a sentence that had not
some bit of profanity in it" (Steinbeck, E.
99). Finally, the accusations of false
representation of religious practices are difficult to take seriously for much the same
reason as those stated already in reference to the language. Steinbeck is not writing about
a group of people who, under any circumstances, would sit primly in their church pews
wdth muted voices and bowed heads. These are people for whom worship is active and
physical, not reserved or reverential, and Steinbeck's characterization of their behavior is
consistent with that of many Pentecostal congregations. The fact that "Burning Bushers,"
as Casy refers to them, are quite often considered pariahs among members of other, more
staid denominational groups is more an indication of cultural differences among the
groups themselves than of any inaccuracy on Steinbeck's part.
The heart of the issue is that ordy through an understanding of folk custom can
Steinbeck's novel be fiilly appreciated, and we begin to get a tmer picture of his
characters and of the meaning of the allusions he makes when we consider them in light
of their relation to folklore, and particularly to camivalistic folklore. As noted earlier, the
Menippean satire provides an essential link between the earliest serio-comical forms and
the camivalized novel, and by identifying some elements of the menippea in The Grapes
of Wrath, we can move toward a better understanding of the effect of camivalization m
the novel. It is essential to understand, however, diat any surviving characteristics of
antiquated genres are highly evolved in the contemporary polyphonic novel and should
be considered wdthin the appropriate context. For example, when we speak of the
development of extraordinary situations in the Menippean satire, we must recognize that
stylists of that genre were not bound by any need for realism in their writing; in fact,
Bakhtin notes the common occurrence of fantasy and allegory in the menippea. In The
Grapes of Wrath, realism is foundational, and die migrant sittiation, while certainly
extt-aordmary, is in no way fantastic and is allegorical only at diat fifth layer of thematic
29
meaning about which Steinbeck has spoken. Nevertheless, we can say that Steinbeck's
depiction of the Joads' experience (as well as that of the migrants in general) lends itself
to the testing of philosophical tmth, and we can identify characters such as Casy or Tom
who may be considered in terms of the wise man representing that tmth. The menippean
element of slum naturalism is most emphatically present in this novel as well since both
Tom and Casy experience time in prison, travel and live in the squalor of makeshift
camps along the road, speak of visiting prostitutes, and indulge in all sorts of sensual
practices which, in one way or another, advance them toward a better understanding of
their purpose in life. We also see a concem wdth life's ultimate questions in the novel.
Before the end of their first day on the road, the family buries Grampa, and Casy delivers
a eulogy that emphasizes the family's shifting reality and the resulting evolution of their
ideas concerning death and the hereafter:
"This here ol' man jus' lived a life an' just died out of it. I don' know
whether he was good or bad, but that don't matter much. He was alive,
an' that's what matters. An' now he's dead, an' that don't matter. Heard
a fella tell a poem one time, an' he says 'all that lives is holy.' Got to
thinkin', an' purty soon it means more than the words says. An' I
wouldn't pray for a ol' fella that's dead. He's awright. He got a job to do,
but it's all laid out for 'im an' there's on'y one way to do it. But us, we
got a job to do, an' they's a thousan' ways, an' we don' know which one
to take. An' if I was to pray, it'd be for the folks that don' know which
way to tum. Grampa here, he got the easy straight." (Stembeck, Grapes
184-85)
We can also detect in the narrative the vestiges of the threshold dialogue as Graiuna
becomes less and less lucid; finally, just prior to her death, Granma completely loses
touch wdth reality, conversing only wdth her dead husband and appearing oblivious to the
presence of the living people around her. In this modem manifestation, the threshold
dialogue occurs within a realistic context, but it is no less effective in terms of
illuminating thematic assertions. In the case of Grampa and Granma Joad, this straddling
of the boundaries between life and deadi can be read as an inability to adapt to change
and, hence, an inability to survive.
30
Anodier purpose of the menippea was to eliminate the illusion of man's ability to
control his worid or to know his future based upon his knowledge of absolute tmth; to
this end, the Menippean satire often portrayed scandalous events or eccentric behavior
which was in direct opposition to the established norms of society, and we see a similar
characteristic at work m The Grapes of Wrath. Steinbeck intt-oduces Tom, who is
arguably the "hero" of die novel, by relating die fact diat he has committed murder,
served four years in a federal prison, and come out on the other side of that experience
without any internal conviction that his behavior was wrong or even inappropriate.
Similarly, Jim Casy, another major character who qualifies as a primary protagonist, is
the prototype for what we Southemers would call a "backslid Christian." He has, in
essence, abandoned the idea that he should strive to overcome his sensual nature, and he
no longer believes that life's questions and stmggles can be explained away by religious
doctrine; fiirthermore, he all but refuses to pray, he insists that he is no longer a preacher,
and he devotes himself to the development of a whole new belief system based upon his
day-to-day experience wdth the people around him. For both of these characters, tmth is
relative. Ordy the act of living, of experiencing reality as it is rather than as they wish it
were, can give them any sense of security in the present or hope for the future.
At this point in our discussion, we can clearly see that 772^ Grapes of Wrath could
be considered a camivalized novel based solely on its cormections to the ancient genres
of the Socratic dialogue and the Menippean satire, but the cormections to camivalistic
folklore in the book and the effects that those connections have had on its critical
reception go even deeper. Certairdy, Bakhtin's theories of the nature of the serio-comical
wdth its inherent opposhion to official culture explain to some degree the response of
certain groups to Steinbeck's work, particularly when we consider the novel in light of its
dialogic stmcture and capabilities; nevertheless, the presence of camivalized elements
alone cannot fully explain the vehement reactions against The Grapes of Wrath which
continue to make it a controversial element in many curriculums, particularly in the Bible
Belt. In fact, the only explanation for these reactions rests in the varied interpretations of
the scriptural allusions Steinbeck makes throughout his work. For example, many critics
31
have noted the parallels to Jesus in Casy and Tom, but the characters themselves bear
little resemblance to the official image of Jesus Christ as sinless and divine.'^ Some
scholars and readers have sought to reconcile this problem by interpreting the novel in
terms of Old Testament scripture and simply ignoring or denying the New Testament
connections. Still others have examined die allusions in the novel on an individual basis
without attempting to explain the resuhing inconsistencies in meaning. I believe the
answer to this confusion lies in an interpretation which takes Stembeck at his word: the
concept of man as a single, isolated unit is a fallacy, and the social, economic, and
spiritual themes upon which The Grapes of Wrath is built cannot be accurately
interpreted apart from this assumption. Furthermore, an understanding of the scriptural
allusions that illustrate this fact depend upon a reading of the Bible which illuminates the
spiritual unity of humanity as it has evolved from its origins with God himself to his
incamation as a man in the person of Jesus Christ. Again, I would remind my readers
that Bakhtin viewed the account of Jesus in the Christian Gospels as the most highly
evolved textual expression of dialogue and of camival as it manifests in literature. The
implication, then, is that these elements must have existed in pre-Christian writing as
well; hence, if we are to accurately consider the evolution of camival images in the Bible,
we should first identify their initial occurrence in the Old Testament. Additionally, this
method of analysis will be highly advantageous in this particular discussion since
Steinbeck alludes to both the Old and New Testaments throughout The Grapes of Wrath
in what I believe to be a highly disciplined marmer which reflects many of the same
concems we find associated wdth camival.
One of the most pervasive parallels between the novel and the Bible is created by
obvious allusions to the Book of Exodus. Steinbeck begins with a description of the
Oklahoma Dust Bowl in terms reminiscent of the biblical plagues visited on Egypt by an
angry God. In the novel, the earth is "scarred," "cmsted," and "pale"; die vegetation is
"weak" and "frayed." With die winds came die dust, mixed heavily into the air so that
the sun appeared "as red as ripe new blood," and the dust slowly "sifted down . . .
'^ See Brasch, Kennedy, Lisca, and Shockley for representative discussions.
32
covered the earth . .. settled on the com, piled on the tops of the fence posts, piled up on
the wires; it settled on roofs, blanketed the weeds and trees" (3-6). Similarly in the
biblical narrative, the waters of Egyptian rivers tumed to blood (Exod. 7:20-5), the dust
settled and "became lice in man, and in beast" (8:17), and "the hail smote every herb of
die field. . . . And the flax and the barley was smitten" (9:25, 31). In the novel as in the
Bible, it is as if, in Jim Casy's words, "the arm of the Lord had stmck" (52).
Additionally, the westward movement of the migrants as a group recalls the exodus of the
Jews from captivity in Egypt. The release of Rose of Sharon's stillbom infant into the
mshing floodwaters near the novel's end carries echoes of Pharaoh's instmctions to his
people that "every [Hebrew] son that is bom ye shall cast into the river" (Exod. 1:22).
We should also recall Moses, who was himself released into the Nile as an infant in an
effort to save his life. All of these allusions are important, and readers have been correct
to consider them in relation to the novel's themes; in terms of the current discussion,
though, these references are significant specifically in their relation to camival.
The Book of Exodus is one of the most thoroughly camivalized books of the Old
Testament. For example, the encounters between Moses and Pharaoh take place in the
camival atmosphere of the royal court.
The exodus of the Hebrews reflects the
significance of the camival square, and their adventures as they wander through the
wdldemess, repeatedly offending God with their pagan-like practices, carry overtones of
slum naturalism. Perhaps most significantly, each of the camival elements of free and
familiar contact among people, the camivalistic mesalliance of sudden shifts and sharp
contrasts, and the camivalistic acts of crowning and decrowning are present in die life of
Moses. Moses is bom to Hebrew slaves and placed in a basket among die reeds of the
Nile only to be discovered by an Egyptian princess who raises him as her son. As an
adult, Moses discovers his ttne heritage, and in a fit of rage, kills an Egyptian taskmaster
who is beating a Hebrew slave. Moses then flees the royal court, becoming a shepherd in
the wdldemess of Midian. One day while tending the flock, he encounters a burning bush
from the midst of which he is called by God to lead die Hebrews from captivity m Egypt
to die Promised Land of Canaan. We find many of die same elements of camivalization
33
in other narratives of the Old Testament, such as the stories of David, Solomon, and even
1 'X
Esther.
Hence, any allusion in literature to these camivalized books of the Bible can be
identified as a contributmg factor in the camivalization of that literature.
At this point, we can make another provocative observation: the genealogies of
all of the major characters in the Old Testament can bett-acedto one source—^Adam and
Eve in the Book of Genesis.
This fact is significant to this study in relation to
Steinbeck's primary thematic assertion as articulated by Casy when he speaks of the "one
big soul ever'body's a part of" It is in die first book of the Bible diat we find die basis of
man's relationship wdth God and wdth one another beginning wdth the accounts of
Creation, Original Sin, and the Fall of Man. In this biblical narrative, the first man is
created in God's image and has the advantage of unencumbered companionship wdth
God. It soon becomes evident, however, that the man requires something more: "And
the LORD God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I wdll make him a help
meet for him" (Gen. 2:18). With these words and the creation of woman from man as a
companion for him, God Himself identifies the need of one human for another. The next
significant fact of this narrative occurs after the man and woman disobey God's
commandment to forego eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. As
punishment for their disobedience, both the man and the woman are cursed and cast out
of paradise, and God "placed at the east of the garden of Eden chembim, and a flaming
sword which tumed every way, to keep the way of the tree of life" (3:24). We should
note three important facts here. First, the curse home by the woman is that of childbirth,
and "Adam called his wife's name Eve; because she was the mother of all living" (3:20).
Thus, the relationship of all men, one to another as well as to a creative Spirit, is
reiterated. Second, Adam—as well as his progeny—is cursed to forever toil for his food
upon earth which is also cursed and unproductive; furthermore, he is doomed to
eventually retum, in death, to the dustfromwhich he was created. Finally, we should
'^ Kenneth Craig's Reading Esther: A Case for the Literary Carnivalesque is exfremely insightful
and was the genesis of my own study of camival images in the Bible.
34
note that, from this point on, man wdll strive to regam the paradise from which he has
been harmed.
What we begin to see, then, is the propensity for biblical narrative to evolve in a
circular fashion which in tum highlights the circular nature of the history of mankind.
The effect is that we can repeatedly identify the same goals, the same desires which have
driven man from the moment of his creation, but wdth each successive generation, we can
also identify ways in which humanity has evolved spudtually, generally moving to higher
and higher planes of wisdom and understanding in spite of the fact that he continues to
retain those essential flaws inherited from the Fall; furthermore, we continue to see
throughout the Bible attempts by man to re-establish the pristme cormection wdth God
enjoyed by Adam in the Garden, attempts which find their ultimate success in the person
of Jesus Christ who is, in effect, the camivalized manifestation of God in man. When
viewed in this light, the Bible as a whole becomes a conglomeration of images and motifs
which embody traditionally unacknowledged elements of the carnivalesque; furthermore,
when these elements are incorporated in the form of scriptural allusions into the body of
the polyphonic novel in general—and into The Grapes of Wrath in particular—^the
inevitable result is an intertextual opposition of the unofficial ideology of the "folk" as
represented wdthin the narrative versus the official ideology of society which refuses to
recognize "the tradition of the carnivalesque, in which there exists 'the constant
combmation of falsehood and tmth, of darkness and light, of anger and gentieness, of life
and death' typifying a world view that is characterized by ambivalence and duality"
(Danow 41-2).
The manifestation of the above-mentioned principles in The Grapes of Wrath as
well as the foundational basis for the current discussion can be best illustrated through a
continued analysis of one of Steinbeck's most controversial characters: Jim Casy. Casy
may also be one of die most analyzed characters in literature, and each analysis reflects
its author's belief that his interpretation is the correct one. Consider, for example, James
Brasch's article, ''The Grapes of Wrath and Old Testament Skepticism." Brasch begins
by noting die Old Testament parallels in die novel and the resulting paradox when Casy
35
is read as a Christ figure. His solution is to interpret Casy in terms of his connections
wdth the Preacher of the Book of Ecclesiastes. Brasch's argument is very well made
beginning with his assertion diat Steinbeck fully intended die association of Casy wddi
the narrative voice in Ecclesiastes based primarily upon two facts. First, Casy is referred
to as "the Preacher" repeatedly diroughout the novel, and the opening lines of the biblical
narrative establish die parallel: "THE words of die Preacher, die son of David, king in
Jemsalem" (Eccles. 1:1). Second, Brasch notes the extended quotation of Ecclesiastes
4:9-12 by Tom as he recalls a sermon once given by Casy.^"^ As the article continues,
Brasch notes various other parallels between the Old Testament speaker and Jim Casy, all
of which are well-founded, logical points serving to illuminate and prove the critic's
assertions. In short, I agree wdth Mr. Brasch's argument that by seeking to understand the
perspective of the Preacher in the Bible, we can better facilitate our understanding of the
preacher in the novel.
On the other hand, consider Martin Shockley's analysis in "Christian Symbolism
in The Grapes of Wrath.'' In this article, we find equally valid arguments which point to
Casy as a Christ figure. Shockley notes the repeated references in the novel to Casy's
forays into the wdldemess for "meditation and consecration" which parallel Jesus' own
time in the wdldemess just prior to his beginning his ministry (87).'^ He points out that
when Casy goes to jail in Tom's place, the preacher has essentially "taken upon himself
the sins of others" in much the same way Jesus did (88). Shockley fiirther notes that
Casy's final words are an easily identifiable echo of Jesus' own words on the cross.^^ I
would assert that Shockley, too, makes absolutely valid arguments and that he is most
emphatically correct when he says, "Jim Casy urunistakably and significantly is equated
wddi Jesus Chrisf (90).
'" See The Grapes of Wrath, 535-36.
'^ See Luke 4:1-14.
'^ Compare Casy's words—"You don' know what you're a-doin"—to those of Jesus in Luke
23:34: "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do."
36
I would go even fiirther by suggesting still other possible parallels wddi biblical
characters. Casy can be equated wddi Adam in diat he is unable to resist temptation in
spite of die fact diat, as a preacher and student of die Bible, he has at times enjoyed close
communion wddi God. We might find a parallel in Casy to Moses in that diey bodi fdt
called to lead dieir people in a quest for die Promised Land, or to John the Baptist, who
came "preaching in die wilderness of Judea" (Matt. 3:1).
In fact, I believe diat a
convincing argument could be made not only for any one of diese connections, but for all
of diem togedier.
By creating a tapestry of biblical allusions within one character,
Steinbeck proves die foundational dieme of his novel, a dieme which is initially
articulated by Casy, but which is eventtially perpettiated by Tom in his last words to Ma:
"Well, maybe like Casy says, a fella ain't got a soul of his own, but on'y a
piece of a big one....
"Then it don' matter. Then I'll be all aroun' in die dark. I'll be
ever'where—wherever you look. Wherever they's a fight so hungry
people can eat, I'll be there. Wherever diey's a cop beatin' up a guy, I'll
be there. If Casy knowed, why, I'll be in the way guys yell when diey're
mad and'—I'll be in the way kids laugh when diey're hungry an' they
know supper's ready. An' when our folks eat the stuff diey raise an' live
in die houses diey build—why I'll be diere. See? God, I'm talkin' like
Casy. Comes of thinkin' about hrni so much. Seems like I can see him
sometimes." (Stembeck, Grapes 537)
Ma doesn't see, at least not yet; die idea is still too big for her. In fact, even Tom
doesn't entirely understand die implications of his new perspective; if he did, he would
understand that he talks like Casy not because he thinks about him so much, but because
he loves him so much. This idea has yet to dawn on Tom, who has grown up among
people who do not express their emotions. For example, when Grampa died, Granma
"moved wdth dignity and held her head high. She walked for the family and held her
head straight for the family" (177). When Mrs. Wilson comments that Granma had taken
the old man's death well, Ma responds that, "us folks takes a pride holdin' in. My pa
used to say, 'Anybody can break down. It takes a man not to.' We always try to hold in"
(181). It is not remarkable, then, that the concept of love should not occur to Tom; what
is remarkable is that he has discovered some cormection to humanity as a whole whereas
37
before, his only connection was to his own family.
His evolution, diough, is not yet
complete. The last words spoken by Tom reflect only the beginning of the evolutionary
process dirough which he must travel in order to reach a level of awareness similar to diat
which was ultimately achieved by Casy.
Casy knew very early in the novel that love was somehow a part of the
tt-ansformation he was experiencing.'^ It was not until much later, however, diat he
began to formulate the answer to the questions which had driven him out of the ministty,
into the wilderness, and onto die road wdth thousands of others. In the final moments of
his life, Casy attempts to explain his epiphany to Tom:
"Here's me, been a-goin' into the wdldemess like Jesus to tryfindout
somepin. Almost got her sometimes, too. But it's in the jail house I really
got her." His eyes were sharp and merry. "Great big 'ol cell, an' she's
full all a time. New guys come in, and guys go out. An' 'course I talked
to all of 'em... .Well they was nice fellas, ya see. What made 'em bad
was they needed stuff. An' I begin to see, then. It's need that makes all
diett-ouble." (489-90)
Tom doesn't understand, though, and Casy is unable to put into words what it is that he
means. Unfortunately, Casy never again has the opportunity to explain, but his final
moments speak volumes. Tom, Casy, and the other men in the tent are intermpted by the
hushed sounds of a group approaching through the woods. They abandon the camp, but
are caught along the river by strikebreakers who have been waiting for just such a
moment:
A sharp call, "There they are!" . . . "That's him. That shiny bastard.
That's him."
Casy stared blindly at the light. He breathed heavily. "Listen," he said,
"You fellas don' know what you're doin'. You're helpin' to starve
kids
You don' know what you're a-doin." (495)
These are Casy's final words, and at this point we should note several significant facts.
First, at the heart of Casy's philosophy and of Steinbeck's theme is the idea of love. It is
love which causes Casy to go with die Joads so diat he might be of some help to others
'^ Note Casy's words on page 30 of the novel.
38
along the way. It is love which permits Casy to sacrifice himself and go to jail in Tom's
place. It is love which allows Casy to face his own fears and actually take upon himself
the role of leader. And it is love which gives Casy die insight to recognize his killers'
motivation and to reach out to them in his final moments. Second, the antithesis of love
is not hate, but fear. It is fear which prompts the tractor drivers, salesmen, gas station
owners, and waitresses to tum dieir backs upon dieir neighbors. It is fear which drives
the migrants in opposite directions and in ever-smaller groups. It is fear which prevents
them from standing up to the tyrarmy of local police and the exploitation of corporate
landowners. And it is fear which prompts one man to murder another. This is heart of
Steinbeck's message, and because Casy has already leamed that love is the foundation of
all tmth, he is the perfect vehicle for the illustration of the novel's theme, thereby
fulfilling, in Bakhtinian terms, the primary role of the fool-protagonist in the polyphonic
novel of modeling the authorial position. Furthermore, through his death, Casy becomes
the "physically absent yet all-pervasive organizing idea" behind not only Tom's
conversion, but that of Ma and of Rose of Sharon at the novel's end. Finally, we should
recognize that any interpretation of this novel which terminates at the point of realization
that Steinbeck has drawn numerous parallels between God and sinful man, parallels
which seem uncomfortably at odds wdth the traditions, teachmg, and atmosphere that
have become common in today's Christian community, is an interpretation which serves
only to perpetuate the confusion and ignorance it seeks to remedy.
39
CHAPTER VI
CONCLUSION
Just as I began writing diis paper, I came across an online article in die National
Catholic Reporter magazine titled, ''NCR art adventtire: Search for a contemporary
Jesus."
My first diought was, "What's wrong wddi die old One?" The article was
actually a solicitation for artwork^n any visual medium—which represents a sharper,
more modem image of Jesus diat says (and I quote), "Look! This is the one you have
been waiting for." I toyed, briefly, wdth die idea of entering die contest, but I decided
that if anyone where I live were to see my entry, I would likely be drummed out of town.
I have never been one to simply accept what I am told. It got me into trouble as a
child, and my adulthood has been no different. As a professional in the classroom, I have
never chosen to teach the easy lessons that yield traditional answers or that lend
themselves to predictable solutions. This practice has kept my career interesting, but it
has also prevented my being the most popular teacher among parents and administrators
who sometimes prefer that be children be told what to think rather than being taught how
to think. The tmth is that it really does make life easier for everyone when those in
authority can just tell their subordinates what to think, what to do, what to read. I think
the question we must ask ourselves, though, is whether an easy life is necessarily a good
life.
Many of the children I know are willing to take the path of least resistance every
time, and I always wonder what happens to them after they leave my class. I seldom find
out because the students who retum to see me and to tell me about their accomplishments
and future goals are generally those who stmggled through the difficult assignments,
chose the most challenging books from the reading list, and questioned—^respectfully—
my authority and interpretations from the beginning of the year to the end. Sometimes,
this fact, combined with the inevitable conflicts diat accompany any unorthodox position,
makes teaching a very uncomfortable profession; but, more often than not, I feel a deep
•* <http://www.natcath.com/public/073099b.htm>.
40
sense of satisfaction wdth having met the challenge. I hope that my students someday get
the same satisfaction from their own lives, and to that end, I intend to continue to push
them toward the ability to think independently and to stand up for the rights of others to
do so as well.
41
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Bakhtin, Mikhail. Problems of Dostoevsky's Poetics. Ed. Caryl Emerson. Intt-oduction
by Wayne C. Booth. Theory and History ofLiterature, Volume 8. Mmneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1984.
—. Rabelais and His World. Trans. Helene Iswolsky. Bloomington, IN: Indiana
University Press, 1984.
Beach, Joseph Warren. "John Steinbeck: Art and Propaganda." Steinbeck and His
Critics: A Record of Twenty-Five Years. Ed. E. W. Tedlock, Jr., and C. V.
Wicker. Albuquerque, NM: The University of New Mexico Press, 1957.
250-265.
Benson, Jackson J. Looking for Steinbeck's Ghost. Norman and London: University of
Oklahoma Press, 1988.
—. The True Adventures ofJohn Steinbeck, Writer. New York: Viking Press, 1984.
Clark, Katerina, and Michael Holquist. Mikhail Bakhtin. Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1984.
Coates, Ruth. Christianity in Bakhtin: God and the Exiled Author. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1998.
Craig, Jr., Kermeth M. Reading Esther: A Case for the Literary Carnivalesque.
Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995.
Danow, David K. The Spirit of Carnival: Magical Realism and the Grotesque.
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"VOICES: TRAVELS WITH STEINBECK Working wddi John Steinbeck in 1938, a
young photographer helped plant the seeds that grew into The Grapes of Wrath.
People. Horace Bristol, as told to Jack Kelley; 05-01-89.
<http://wwwl .lib.ttti.edu:795 l/getdo...842882@library_a&dtypye=0~0&dinst=0>
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46
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