I promise I’m not marking all the days that are in my pocket calendar. I didn’t say a word about W.H. Auden on Feb. 21, although I’d rather celebrate Auden than Presidents’ Day.
But I’m thinking of John Steinbeck, born Feb. 27, 1902, in Salinas, Calif., for two reasons:
• Travels with Charley is one of my favorite books. Steinbeck, worried that he was going downhill as he approached 60, took a trip across the country in 1960, driving a GMC truck with a camper on top. It was an experiment, to see if was still in touch with the country, or rather, if he could still get in touch with it. Charley, if you don’t know the book, was his dog.
• Sweet Thursday is a good read. I prefer short stories to novels. But this one held my attention. When I was growing up, Faulkner, Hemingway and Steinbeck were the stars of contemporary American literature. Most of the folks I talked writing with considered Steinbeck a distant third. Maybe, but I can’t imagine Faulkner or Hemingway pulling off a love story like Sweet Thursday. Can you?
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