This is part of the continuing series of random book reviews that'll be nothing like a New York Times book review. Gone is the ten thousand word analysis. Instead, here is a book review like you'd tell your friends.
Review:
Chapter One Reaction: It can't be this boring for 600 pages, can it?
Chapter Two Reaction: No, seriously, it has to get perkier than this, right? What page am I on?
Chapter Three Reaction: Okay, really, can you pick up the pace a little? I have a date with life I'd like to keep.
The pace doesn't quicken. The Grapes of Wrath makes War and Peace look like a light summer beach read. It's the type of book where if you just lost your job and your 401(k)...and then came home and found your spouse in bed with your best friend...and then mistakenly ran over your precious golden retriever as you peeled out of the driveway...and then you happened to read The Grapes of Wrath that night, you'd say, "Well, hey, life can always be worse I guess."
You know those books where you read 50 pages and then probably never get back to reading it because you're easily distracted by shiny objects and Entertainment Tonight on tv? That's The Grapes of Wrath. You know those books that get listed as a "great novel," but after reading those first 50 pages you question the sanity of book reviewers? That's The Grapes of Wrath. You know when you have no patience for a book after those first three chapters...but that when you get to the end of the book you understand that patience was all part of the master plan of the book? That there's an emotional payoff at the end? That there was a point after all to trudging through 600 pages because the author looked for a message that transcended literature for a change? That the point of the whole book is that it actually has a point?
That's The Grapes of Wrath.
