East of Eden aka My mother is a whore: Book Review

Not going to be spoiler free. But it isn't some goddam mystery novel, so there.

John Steinbeck said "One book to a man" and if this isn't his "one book", I mean, if "Grapes of Wrath" or something is better than this one, then humanity is so fucking amazing I don't know what went wrong with the whole thing, I mean, it would just be completely inexplicable. 

I liked Cal best in this book, Cal Trask. I know that in the end he kind of becomes the one you are supposed to like as well, but I liked him from the beginning( *puts hipster glasses on*). I liked him from when he was born and he looked meaner and shrewder than his brother and everybody automatically liked him less. I feel you, man, I said. And all that rejection lark. And your parent being a whore. And all that nervousness about whether your 'mean' is inherited or your own 'mean'.  And all his prayers at night going "Don't let me be mean". And I knew that brother of his was going to get himself killed that golden haired sonuvabitch. These blonde angelic types are always fucking martyring themselves. It's so fucking annoying.

From now on I am going to believe everything John Steinbeck tells me. Through the internet, I mean, since he was from so long ago. And he wrote this book in 1956 or something, I mean, the stuff, the underlying stuff is the same. All the stories, and all the stuff are the same. In life and in literature. All the good stories. Anyway, how come people know so much about human beings? I mean, you know, authors like John Steinbeck. How come they learned people so well? And how do they still love them even though they have seen them at their weakest, most cowardly moments? Maybe that is why. Maybe if you've seen them, seen right through them in their most unarmed self indulgent moments then you sort of can't help it. Maybe all these authors who know everything are like timelords who have seen so much and are so old that they can't help being hopelessly in love with everything that is human.

This didn't really turn out to be a book review but it is three thirty in the  morning. Read this book. I am not kidding around. If you don't read anything else, read this. And Mice and Men and Steppenwolf.

I should make more lists on this blog.