The Grapes of Wrath: Discussion III
Chapters 15-18: Jalopies, Okies, and a false hope on the coast?
Initial thoughts
From the people traveling the Mother Road to the businesspeople alongside it, everybody, really, is just trying to make ends meet, some by joining with their fellow man, others by turning against him. The farther west we travel the more the callousness and disgust toward the “Okies” grows, the more their migration comes to be seen as infringement on another’s way of life. The goodness of California itself, too, once so grand and unassailable, is also cast into doubt.
Chapter 15
This chapter is from the perspective of two workers in the diner, the host and the cook. Mae is professional, on the lookout for the “backbone” of the joint, while Al, the cook, is caught up in the same routine of pressing burgers onto the grill. The repetitive nature of his work mirrors that of the truck driver from the novel’s opening, though he initially appears to lack his optimism
There are three categories of people who come through the diner: the truckers, poor families like the Joads traveling through, and the those that come “in the big cars on the highway”
Describing these couples, Steinbeck says they carry bottles, syringes, pills…jellies to make their sexual intercourse safe, odorless, and unproductive” (155). These people are depicted distinctly from the Joads and truckers. They dislike “the sun and wind and earth, hating time that rarely makes them beautiful and always makes them old.”
He further defines these people by saying how, once they get to California, they will “look at mountains—mountains, mind you, and great trees—he with his worried eyes and she thinking how the sun will dry her skin.” What do these people represent? A third class, perhaps, distinct from the toiling truckers and dirt-poor migrants, searching too for economic opportunity but terrified of losing what they still have. Most striking is the description of these people not as indifferent to the land but actively afraid of it, a stark contrast to the farmers depicted throughout and their connection to it. Even the Pacific Ocean will fail to impress them
The description of the car flying down the highway and smashing into the family’s car and killing their child was harrowing. It also surprised me to see—for some reason I pictured people driving back in the day as calm and relaxed, but I guess there were tailgating assholes even back then
I don’t think we need to delve too deeply into Al telling Mae to give the family the loaf of bread, and Mae subsequently selling the candy to the father for cheap. These are two more examples of goodness, of humanity, of hospitality, that have been occurring throughout the novel
This chapter can be summed up nicely by its three symbols: the truck, the fine car, and the jalopie. Using these images, what is Steinbeck telling us about class, migration, and the road?
Chapter 16
Steinbeck is really hammering home the whole Rose as symbol of motherhood, fertility, etc. but I’d like to see more of her character outside of that. Doesn’t really seem to exist. It’s giving old friend on Instagram who only posts photos of her pregnant belly and due date countdown. Is her underdevelopment intentional?
Connie’s dreams, as told my Joad, seem markedly different than that of Pa who just wants a solid job picking fruit. He wants to live in town, study radio, have a doctor when the baby is born and even go to a hospital for it. This world they desire to enter is vastly different than that of the Oklahoman farmer. It suggests that, even though they are fleeing the land in order to preserve what they still have, progress and change is in many ways unavoidable; their way of life in some sense has been disrupted forever
On page 172, “the speedometer turned back” is another example of how the game is rigged
I liked how Tom dealt with the guy who works in the junkyard. The worker, like many in the story, resents his boss and his manipulative business practices, but here Steinbeck pushes back against the idea of total helplessness
Why does Al swerve to hit the cat while driving? The motif of avoiding/hitting animals in the road clearly means something, but what? Control? Indifference?
The interaction Tom has with the owner of the camp where his family is staying provides another big reinforcement of a major theme. For one, there is paying to sleep on the land at all, which seems at odds with what the land is. When Tom refuses to pay and says he will sleep on the side of the road, he’s told that the police patrol and there is a law against vagrants. Once again we see the state as a force protecting business interests in a way that violates a man’s right to the land
“If I pay you a half a dollar I ain’t a vagrant, huh?” “That’s right.” (186) How many different industries can this logic apply to today?”
The proprietor exhibits disdain for the migrants, calling them “bums.” This language is not surprising and we see it all the time. Being on the journey with the Joads, however, we know they are the complete opposite of bums. But to some people, whose way of life they feel is being threatened, they are all the same (though they have no problem taking their money)
“Well, we all go to make a livin,” says the proprietor. We’ve seen this before, and it’s central to the whole narrative.
We also for the first time in this chapter see “the Handbill” as a scam, and therefore all the opportunity of California is thrown into doubt. The ragged man knows what awaits in California, but knows there is no convincing these people who are surviving on hope that they should turn back. Does California have any promise, or is it all just an illusion? Will they be picking fruit and buying white houses in California, or will they simply be exploited by economic forces there, too?
Chapter 17
The theme of community, solidarity, and hospitality is strong in these descriptions of migrant families coming together in the camps at the night, erecting these vibrant outposts of life on the side of the road that disappear every morning
He goes so far as to describe these places as their own worlds, in which customs and laws and leaders and rights emerge, perhaps touching upon how all great cities, all great communities, grew out of strangers coming together in a distant and unfamiliar land
Ostracism in this community is worse than death, because once ostracized, a man “had no place in any world, no matter where created” (194). To lose the trust and comfort of community is worse than death
Really loved this sentence, on page 196: “That man whose mind had been bound with acres lived with narrow concrete miles.” His attention has shifted from the land to motors and tires and oil, his way of life irrevocably altered. There’s something deeply moving about the image of so many men who lived their lives on huge acres now confined to a single road, a heartbreaking indictment on the forces of history that have moved so many men from what they once knew
Chapter 18
In this chapter we first see the word “Okie” used against people like the Joads
"Them goddamn Okies got no sense and no feeling. They ain’t human. A human being wouldn’t live like they do. A human being couldn’t stand to be so dirty and miserable.” This language comes from the helper at the service-station after Tom comes through with the truck. The poverty of the Joads from the perspective of the outsider is again framed as a choice, which absolves the rest of the world of responsibility for condition. The world is whole and just, and people are dirty and miserable because they choose to be. Note the separation, the detachment, and the dehumanization that keeps these men from empathizing with their fellow man.
We get another not-so-rosy look at California here, from the man and his son in the water. Yes, California is a beautiful piece of land, but it’s all owned. Is there any economic opportunity available at all
In this conversation we also see the orange grove finally subverted: “a grove of yells oranges—an’ a guy with a gun that got the right to kill you if you touch one” (206). The orange, a symbol of freedom, opportunity, and nature, is thus perverted into another piece of property
Casy, on page 207, sermonizes that not even a million acres can make a poor man rich
Noah just going off into the wilderness was a wild move, made even more wild by the fact that nobody in the family really gives a fuck. I know he was the black sheep of the family but damn. Maybe they all knew he would be happier that way
Ma crushing the red ant between her fingertips mirrors Tom crushing the grasshopper in the opening of the novel (210)
The conversation (224) between Casy and Uncle Joe: “Everybody goes wild.” Again, should we embrace sin, or repress it?
Granma bites the dust. Saw this one coming after what happened to Grampa but wanted to highlight a key difference. Grampa died as soon as his connection to the land was severed. Granma died only once the family was near the end of the journey. In a way, she saw them through. This is paralleled by Ma laying next to Granma’s body for the whole desert crossing without saying a word. Both examples stress the strength, commitment and sacrifice so embodied by mothers
Also, Connie and Rose banging as Granma expires is a pretty twisted touch. I’m not even sure how the logistics of that work considering the layout of the truck has confused me for the entire read. But good for them I guess? Creation in the face of death and all that?
Thanks for reading everybody. The next reading will cover chapters 19-24, and will be posted on Tuesday, 2/18. As always feel free to comment on any of my observations or drop your own below. I hope you are enjoying this book as much as I am. It can be bleak at times, but its assertions of opportunity, family, and most importantly, humanity, are undeniable and welcome in times like these.