Today I finished Cannery Row, which I really liked. It is not often that one finds literature idealizing the poorest members of Depression-era society. But that is what this book does. Everyone is reasonably happy with their life and the overall goal is to make Doc happy by throwing him a party. These are people living in storage sheds, an industrial boiler, and prostitutes. But they are good people who are trying their best. Interesting book and interesting perspective. The image of the starfish clinging to each other will be in my mind for a while. That's what humans do when they are nervous, too.
Here comes the embarrassing part. So I'm reading this and in my mind, comparing it to Absalom, Absalom. I'm thinking to myself, wow, these sentences are shorter and this is a lot more readable. It was only after finishing the book that it dawned on me. Steinbeck and Faulkner are COMPLETELY DIFFERENT AUTHORS. I had sort of amalgamated them in my mind. Faulkbeck, or something. Whoops.