East of Eden

One thing I am rarely without is a strong opinion.  I may be right or I may be wrong, but I am seldom indifferent.  

Typically, after reading a novel, I come away with definitive views about its literary value, its universal themes, and its worldview.  I can generally identify nuggets of wisdom that can be harvested from the folly or prudence of its characters.

Not so with East of Eden.  I have contradictory interpretations battling for ascendency and which I don't think I can resolve without a second reading.  But I'll have to save that for later.  Much later.  In the meantime, I can say a couple of things definitively.

The first several chapters (at least) were reminiscent of Russian literature I have read.  Not stylistically, but emotionally.  The plot, characters and setting are all dark and brooding, creating a palpable sense of oppression. 

It also seems clear to me that that's the point.  Life east of Eden, that is, cast away from the life-giving presence of God, is a wilderness full of sin, darkness, death and corruption.  Fratricide.  Suicide.  Prostitution.  Envy.  This struggle with sin manifests itself in man's relationships with one another.  He is continually seeking but is never able to come to the knowledge of the truth.

Beyond that, I'm uncertain.  I see that just as Cain killed Abel because he was jealous for his father's love, so Caleb is responsible for Aron's death as a result of the same jealous anger.  But the parallels aren't always so tidy as that.

I see Lee and Samuel Hamilton as light-bearers in the dark world, yet theirs doesn't seem to be the true light that brings deliverance.

In the end, if Caleb himself were pleading with his father, Adam, to bless him, I could read repentance and restoration into it.  As it is, with Lee pleading on Caleb's behalf, I don't know what to do with that.

I also found that I kept hoping beyond all hope that somehow, someway, Kate would find redemption.  Of all the characters, I most wanted her to be redeemed.  Ultimately, I couldn't find the redemptions, the restorations, the resurrections I was looking for.  Perhaps that's also Steinbeck's point?  OR perhaps...and I think this is more likely...I just missed something.  Maybe in my anticipation of what was to come, I failed to understand what actually came.

I welcome feedback and alternative interpretations from those of you who have read it.  I suppose next time I will learn about Steinbeck first and then proceed through the second reading with a literary guide in-hand. 

I will say this:  I'm not the least bit sorry I read the book.  In spite of the fact that its deeper meanings may have eluded me, the characters are vivid...desperately so...and the story is highly complex and beautifully written.