Of Mice and Men

For a long time, I thought I hated Steinbeck. My introduction to him was the summer after I graduated from UNC where in the midst of physical therapy and yoga sessions for a back injury, I read. I picked up the Grapes of Wrath in the library and only read kept reading because I thought, it must get better after this. When I got to the ending, I was furious. This is it?! I kept screaming to myself. I resolved to hate Steinbeck for putting me through such a worthless experience.

Last week, Of Mice and Men came to town. Student tickets were cheap and the reviews excellent.
I read it in an afternoon, and I was numb when I reached the final page. Once the numbness wore off, I found it perfectly constructed, balanced. I had about 4 hours to process the book before I went to see the play, and the more I turned it over in the corners of my mind, the more I liked it. Everything is foreshadowed and nothing is lost.

But it took the play for me to see its brilliance. The description of George in the book made me view him as a person who didn't really like Lenny, who didn't love him, due to his "sharp features." The play dissolved that notion and I could see a genuine bond of friendship between them.

It's about dreaming, the power of dreams, and the utterly humane ability to believe in their existence though circumstances seem otherwise. Lenny's sad ability to harm the things he likes, his childish desire to feel soft things, shown with such poignancy as the novel progresses. George, the brains, but also the friend, who despite rough talk, deeply loves Lenny--as shown in the final scene.

It's a sad book. No happy endings are alotted the characters. But despite the foul position these characters land in, the overwhelming notion is the power of dreams, which may not be real, pitted against the power of friendship, the only real thing these men have, and the "austere and lonely office" that love calls them to.