The Constant Search: Steinbeck's Journey in Travels With Charley
There are few things as fundamental to the American experience as the desire to move. We are a nation of travelers seeking new worlds. From the conquest of people in the first three hundred years of European settlement or immigrants searching for a better life in a more familiar world already formed, the United States has grown because of our restlessness. But not everyone can uproot themselves and start a new life somewhere else. The road trip is an attempt to quench the thirst for new experiences and locales without losing the home you have.
But a journey for the journey's sake is an indulgence. If you're going simply to escape, you aren't creating anything. It is only by describing your experience that the road trip is made worthwhile. Songwriters like Bruce Springsteen have spent their musical careers trying to explain the lure of the road. Authors from Kerouac to the present tell about their travels in cars. This motif stretches back at least as far as Mark Twain's Huck Finn, who traveled on the Mississippi to escape his father and the trappings of civilization.
Telling others about your experiences helps you reflect on how you've grown in the time you were away. A symbiotic relationship, road trips and personal development support each other. This has held true for me. The desire to explore the United States drove me and my brother to take four road trips in the past five years.
But I write today not about my own explorations, but about those of John Steinbeck. His road trip detailed in Travels With Charley is designed with a different purpose in mind than simple escape. The year is 1960, twenty-three years after the release of his classics Of Mice and Men and The Grapes of Wrath, and Steinbeck feels he has lost touch with the American voice. Though the sounds of America vary from region to region, populated by hearts and minds from many backgrounds, the American voice when considered in totality is distinct from that of those found in the European countries. For a man who once eloquently portrayed the American human being in realistic terms, it is essential that he rediscover the words of his people.
But "people" is a loose term when considering Steinbeck's companion, his poodle -- the Charley from the title. A fuzzy dog may not be the best copilot in the minds of some, but for Steinbeck Charley serves as an excellent conversationalist. The ability to communicate with a creature from another species is something that only a few possess. Consider Chewbacca, Han Solo's right-hand-Wookie from Star Wars, American film director George Lucas' 1977 classic. Speaking from experience, having another person beside you makes the journey survivable. There are some scary times that Steinbeck encounters on the road. A tire explodes, forcing the author to the side of the road in order to fix it in the middle of a rainstorm. Charley suffers from abdominal problems, and the duo also suffers from poor directions and end up lost. For a man driving solo, this could be a disaster. With a friend in the passenger seat, it's an adventure; obstacles are mere challenges to overcome together.
An important part of the book is found toward the end, when Steinbeck is passing through the South. 1960 was an election year and the buzzword of change floated through the air, an environment that reemerged two years ago. We know now that John Kennedy would be elected and integration would occur, but people back then, much like today, didn't know what the new day would bring. Change -- like the road trip -- can be a frightening thing because of the uncertainty of it. And when people are scared, they tend to lash out at those they deem responsible for their discomfort. In 1960, these targets were the young black children who were the guinea pigs in experiments designed to achieve social equality. What's worse is that this anger was not challenged, with logic and respect, but was instead supported and cheered on by the terrified crowd at a New Orleans school.
Steinbeck ends the book at home, though he declares his journey to have ended in Virginia. Some journeys, he said, end early while others continue on long after the vehicle has stopped. Though Steinbeck's journey in his camper truck Rocinante came to an early end, the desire to keep moving continued. Americans will continue taking to the roadways -- whether by car, hovercraft or whatever new form of travel comes along. There is an excitement beckoning us from the other corners of our country and we will seek them out.
But I must reiterate that the road trip taken for its own sake is a selfish act. To live without contemplation is to live as a tree; there is no reason to move if you aren't illuminated by it. Discovering the interconnectedness of all beings is a worthy goal. I believe the path to social equality will be lengthy and full of flat tires, stomach pains and wrong directions. But we will have our own Charleys, the fuzzy dog in the copilot's seat who helps reassure us that we will survive, that though the travel be rough it is one we must make. Those of us who choose to walk will march on the path that thousands have taken before and will take in the future, connecting us eternally to our American identity.
-Paul
But a journey for the journey's sake is an indulgence. If you're going simply to escape, you aren't creating anything. It is only by describing your experience that the road trip is made worthwhile. Songwriters like Bruce Springsteen have spent their musical careers trying to explain the lure of the road. Authors from Kerouac to the present tell about their travels in cars. This motif stretches back at least as far as Mark Twain's Huck Finn, who traveled on the Mississippi to escape his father and the trappings of civilization.
Telling others about your experiences helps you reflect on how you've grown in the time you were away. A symbiotic relationship, road trips and personal development support each other. This has held true for me. The desire to explore the United States drove me and my brother to take four road trips in the past five years.
But I write today not about my own explorations, but about those of John Steinbeck. His road trip detailed in Travels With Charley is designed with a different purpose in mind than simple escape. The year is 1960, twenty-three years after the release of his classics Of Mice and Men and The Grapes of Wrath, and Steinbeck feels he has lost touch with the American voice. Though the sounds of America vary from region to region, populated by hearts and minds from many backgrounds, the American voice when considered in totality is distinct from that of those found in the European countries. For a man who once eloquently portrayed the American human being in realistic terms, it is essential that he rediscover the words of his people.
But "people" is a loose term when considering Steinbeck's companion, his poodle -- the Charley from the title. A fuzzy dog may not be the best copilot in the minds of some, but for Steinbeck Charley serves as an excellent conversationalist. The ability to communicate with a creature from another species is something that only a few possess. Consider Chewbacca, Han Solo's right-hand-Wookie from Star Wars, American film director George Lucas' 1977 classic. Speaking from experience, having another person beside you makes the journey survivable. There are some scary times that Steinbeck encounters on the road. A tire explodes, forcing the author to the side of the road in order to fix it in the middle of a rainstorm. Charley suffers from abdominal problems, and the duo also suffers from poor directions and end up lost. For a man driving solo, this could be a disaster. With a friend in the passenger seat, it's an adventure; obstacles are mere challenges to overcome together.
An important part of the book is found toward the end, when Steinbeck is passing through the South. 1960 was an election year and the buzzword of change floated through the air, an environment that reemerged two years ago. We know now that John Kennedy would be elected and integration would occur, but people back then, much like today, didn't know what the new day would bring. Change -- like the road trip -- can be a frightening thing because of the uncertainty of it. And when people are scared, they tend to lash out at those they deem responsible for their discomfort. In 1960, these targets were the young black children who were the guinea pigs in experiments designed to achieve social equality. What's worse is that this anger was not challenged, with logic and respect, but was instead supported and cheered on by the terrified crowd at a New Orleans school.
Steinbeck ends the book at home, though he declares his journey to have ended in Virginia. Some journeys, he said, end early while others continue on long after the vehicle has stopped. Though Steinbeck's journey in his camper truck Rocinante came to an early end, the desire to keep moving continued. Americans will continue taking to the roadways -- whether by car, hovercraft or whatever new form of travel comes along. There is an excitement beckoning us from the other corners of our country and we will seek them out.
But I must reiterate that the road trip taken for its own sake is a selfish act. To live without contemplation is to live as a tree; there is no reason to move if you aren't illuminated by it. Discovering the interconnectedness of all beings is a worthy goal. I believe the path to social equality will be lengthy and full of flat tires, stomach pains and wrong directions. But we will have our own Charleys, the fuzzy dog in the copilot's seat who helps reassure us that we will survive, that though the travel be rough it is one we must make. Those of us who choose to walk will march on the path that thousands have taken before and will take in the future, connecting us eternally to our American identity.
-Paul