Quoth The Grapes of Wrath

So. I had to read a “literary” book that in some way deals with law, lawyers, or legal themes for my Law & Literature class.

I’ll read Grapes of Wrath, I said. That’ll be fine, I said.

Here is a sampling of some actual goddamn sentences I have had to process with my human brain over the last two days:

“And the women went quickly, quietly back into the houses and herded the children ahead of them. They knew that a man so hurt and so perplexed may turn in anger, even on people he loves.” [domestic violence: natural and to be expected, like mood swings, or, like, you know how you can kind of smell and feel rain when it’s a long way off but somehow you know the wind is pushing it in your direction and you just know it’s going to come but you don’t take an umbrella with you and then later you have to walk back through the rain and you think the whole time about how you knew it was coming and why couldn’t you just take the fucking umbrella and god damn it why didn’t you plan ahead for the rain? domestic violence is like that]

“Behind the harrows, the long seeders – twelve curved iron penes erected in the foundry, orgasms set by gears, raping methodically, raping without passion.” [nothin’ worse than a passionless rape, amirite]

“She looked at him and smiled secretly. She was all secrets now she was pregnant, secrets and little silences that seemed to have meanings. She was pleased with herself, and she complained about things that didn’t really matter. And she demanded services of [him] that were silly, and both of them knew they were silly.” [women is secrets, but when they’re full of babies then women is secrets and uppity, that’s the worst]

“‘Why, Tommy, I’m a-lustin’ after the flesh.’” [nothin to see here, just my new catchphrase, appropriate for many situations]

“‘Say, the day I came outa McAlester I was smokin’. I run me down a girl, a hoor girl, like she was a rabbit. I won’t tell ya what happened. I wouldn’t tell nobody what happened.” Casy laughed. “I know what happened. I went a-fastin’ into the wilderness one time, an’ when I come out the same damn thing happened to me.” “Hell it did!” said Tom. “Well I saved my money anyway, an’ I give that girl a run. Thought I was nuts. I should a paid her, but I on’y got five bucks to my name. She said she didn’ want no money. Here, roll in under an’ grab-a-holt. I’ll tap her loose.” [our hero, ladies and gentlemen. did I ever tell you about the time I raped this woman? I surely did; you, too, huh? wild – can you pass that wrench?]

“‘Howdy,’ the woman said. ‘I’m Mis’ Sandry.’” [*ppppbbllllllttttttttttttt*]

“And always, if he had a little money, a man could get drunk. The hard edges gone, and the warmth. . . . Like to stay drunk all the time. Who says it's bad? Who dares to say it's bad?  . . . No - the stars are close and dear and I have joined the brotherhood of the worlds. And everything's holy - everything, even me. [THE NEXT PARAGRAPH, SEPARATED FROM A SOLILOQUY ON THE HOLY FEELING OF INEBRIATION BY A MERE LINE:] A harmonica is easy to carry. Take it out your hip pocket, knock it against your palm to shake out the dirt and pocket fuzz and bits of tobacco. Now it’s ready.” [Willickers, Rootatootin’ Bill, Five Tips to While Away the Miles, Vagrant Hobbies Magazine, Vol. 6, Iss. 2, 1912][ed. note: Rootatootin' Bill Willickers is Professor Emeritus of Trampthropology at Boxcar University.]

“Ma looked closely at her. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘But, Rosasharn – don’ shame your folks.’ ‘I don’ aim to, Ma.’ ‘Well, don’t you shame us. We got too much on us now, without no shame.’” [pregnant girl whose husband’s run off, don’t get any joy out of the dance. you and your hoorin around – don’ you do it, rosasharn]

“twelve-year old Ruthie . . . felt the might, the responsibility, and the dignity of her developing breasts.” [what?] [side note: oh shit, they come with responsibilities? do I owe some people some kind of money?]

“‘I got this here little girl. You know how purty she is. One week they give her a prize in this camp ‘cause she’s so purty. Well, what’s gonna happen to her? She’s gettin' spindly. I ain’t gonna stan’ it. She’s so purty. I’m gonna bust out.” [... what?]

“‘Swedes up in Dakota – know what they do sometimes? Put pepper on the floor. Gits up the ladies’ skirts an’ makes ’em purty lively – lively as a filly in season. Swedes do that sometimes.’” [.......... k. that all checks out.]

I’m uh... I’m going to see if I can write about another book. Taking suggestions!