Of Speculation and Silence

"I seen it over and over-- a guy talkin' to another guy and it don't make no difference if he don't hear or understand. The thing is, they're talkin', or they're settin' and still not talkin'. It don't make no difference ... It's just the talking. It's just bein' with another guy. That's all."

Once you carve through John Steinbeck's blatant sexism, you may find in his words an illustrious meaning and allegorical symbols, perhaps a commentary on the essence of human existence. Despite the quite irksome flaw of inherent misogyny in all of his works-- if a female character is not the physical incarnate of evil or lust, then invariably she steps out of line at some point and is beaten back into her place with none of the other characters thinking ill of it-- ahem, despite this, Steinbeck is one of my favorite authors. If you've ever heard me speak of East of Eden, you know I have for it an unbridled enthusiasm and somewhat obsessive passion. It is not only the voice of his writing but the aquifer of poignant metaphor that flows through each and every one of his works.You won't find an author more dedicated to pronouncing the reality of the human condition (Except, side note, women actually do have souls. Just thought I'd mention.)

In the past two nights, I've been reading Of Mice and Men and The Pearl cover-to-cover in one sitting each. East of Eden is a walloping and formidable endeavor, possessing a great length of text- albeit undoubtedly worth it-- while these two books both have approximately 100 pages, give or take (in the editions I've been reading). I could write 10,000 words on only one facet of these books alone, but for the sake of your sanity, I shall not. I compile this post today to briefly delve into a shared concept that runs through the philosophy of Steinbeck and expound upon the consequences of its application.

The theme is: Silence.
For all the folks at home; what follows will contain some impressive spoilers.

As I was reading The Pearl, I realized in it a dual and contradictory philosophy to be present, contrasted in my mind by a significant ideology embedded in Of Mice and Men. In chapter four (OMAM), which, by the way, is actually closer to the end of the book than its beginning, we finally meet a character who shows that Steinbeck is not only extremely sexist, but racist! However. In works such as The Pearl, Steinbeck presents many well-rounded, heroic, insightful characters who are, in fact, people of color. His apparent racism in Of Mice and Men is to coerce the reader into considering what unjust treatment African-Americans have been forced to endure. If these are truly his motives, then I can forgive them. Anyways, on to this character.

Steinbeck has a habit of forcing incredibly detailed descriptions, in a single wall of impenetrable text, onto the reader out of nowhere. Just to provide a bit of background on these quotes, here's what we know about the speaker:

• Crooks:

• African-American man
• Stable buck
• Has to bunk in the harness room because he can't quarter with the whites
• Crippled back from being kicked by a horse
• Instinctively angry against white people, all of them, because of how he's been mistreated
• Reads books, unlike everyone else in the story
• Definitely a loner, but also lonely
• Scarred past
• Somewhat pragmatic and aloof

Two of his most profound quotes are at the very beginning of this post and directly below.
Context? He's rambling on and on, now that he finally has someone to listen to him. No matter that the other person doesn't comprehend and isn't listening anyways, because he probably couldn't care less.

"Books ain't no good. A guy needs somebody-- to be near him ...  A guy goes nuts if he ain't got nobody. Don't make no difference who the guy is, long as he's with you. I tell ya, I tell ya a guy gets too lonely and he gets sick."

Steinbeck, unfortunately, forms him as an "angry black man" stereotype, and that doesn't sit well with me. Nevertheless, Crooks serves as a metaphor for the desolation and depravity of loneliness, and the kind of desperate character it inspires. No matter what he does or how many books he reads, he can't seem to fill the gaping need for human acceptance and interaction, however superficial.

Well, I could contend with that. And thinking on that quote a couple nights ago, I began to mull over a concept (which I'll come to later).

Crooks makes some intense points, as the dialogue continues, about the need to reflect experiences-- with only one mind, I have one dimension of a viewpoint. With another mind, there is stretched from my experience another dimension, and the space in which I can process, interpret, and edify my understanding is exponentially increased. From a singular line there now comes a plane of thought.
This is the source of Crook's misery; that he cannot achieve the simplest, yet most complex, and most pleasurable of human experiences. It is intriguing, then, that he at first adamantly refuses to speak to anyone or let his space be violated-- perhaps it is because he anticipates that he himself will be made not to speak, just as in the scene where Curley's wife threatens to lynch him (She does three things in this book: attempts to seduce men, complains about her life, and threatens to execute someone because he told her t get out of his room.)

So it seems that John Steinbeck's philosophy is that there is a necessity to express to one another, any other, human being. This is understandable; we humans are social creatures, we thrive on connection. The error in this reasoning comes in that there is no true connection in simply speaking. It does, in fact, make a difference whether "he don't hear or understand". Communication, language itself, was invented in effort to make raw the soul. This is the true human need; to be bare and authentic, and loved in spite of or because of it.
Otherwise it is dull, shallow, and false.

Yet, in reading The Pearl, a contrasting philosophy emerges.Steinbeck, speaking of the close relationship between Kino and Juana, says this:

"She knew him and she knew she could help him best by being silent and being near ... She knew he would ask when he wanted it."

And, this:

"There is not need for speech if it is only a habit anyway." 

In Steinbeck's eyes, this must be the ideal relationship. They work together nigh-flawlessly, as one being, the only conflict coming when Kino's wife dares to defy him. Juana is obedient, quiet, supportive, and in Kino's own eyes, strong-- she never cries in pain, not in childbirth or even when Kino beats her half to death (In love, of course, because that's definitely what you do when you love someone.) This theme of beautiful, wordless communication is present throughout the entirety of the story, in which there is little dialogue whatsoever. So, if this is the "ideal relationship" to the author, what can we gather?

Abuse aside, which may be dismissed for the moment as a cultural thing, this couple harmonizes very well. Kino and Juana need no excess of words; knowing each other so openly, they must only exchange a touch or a glance to communicate with the same authentic vulnerability. When words are thought necessary, they are spoken with little inhibition. The rest is sung through actions, much like a delicate, interpretive dance comprised of gentle three-note songs and affectionate touches.

My compromise is this: Perhaps we speak too much or not enough, and either of these impedes the deepest desire of our soul to be felt and cherished as we truly are. When our words become necessary, we should let them come freely. But more meaningful than this, more intrinsic to connection, are the knowing exchanges and clement touches passed between two souls who are already exposed to true understanding of each other. The purpose is true, authentic connection, and verbal expression is but a sometimes necessary means.

Hey, Steinbeck fans!
Want an equally profound novel in which neither sexism nor racism prevail?
Look no further! I recommend Life After Life by Kate Atkinson, which you can purchase on Amazon here








When I first read Of Mice and Men, I was so rival to the philosophy of this superficial "connection" that I devised to test against it by taking a vow of silence, to any linguistic communication, for the duration of a week. Now I see that these two books harmonize with each other like the songs they are, ancient, of the family (openness) and the ocean (inner thought). Steinbeck's meaning is not evident in one work alone, and still, from any book we will derive our own meaning. Therefore let us traverse in intimate, infinite dimensions of reflection, gleaning from each other what we ourselves alone cannot.

People talking without speaking, people hearing without listening, people writing songs that voices never share, and no one dare disturb the Sound of Silence.

-William Shakespeare