i’m glad this book was written and i’m glad that i read it, but i can’t say i enjoyed it — for many reasons.

one is that the subject matter is harrowing and all the more appalling for being so real. but i also couldn’t get past the erratic and incongruous writing styles, constant perspective changes, and everything being extremely on-the-nose.

regardless of my personal preferences, the concept is genius, and its execution is deeply informative on the exploitation and dehumanisation common to for-profit prisons. it is heavily US-centric, though similar institutions do exist in the UK and other countries, and reading this prompted me to do more research on carceral systems globally. i really appreciated the many factual footnotes tying the narrative to the horrors of reality. a really great example of fiction as a springboard for deeper engagement with complex sociopolitical issues.

the POV switching was an interesting choice that touched on all the different parties involved in constructing, sustaining and revolting against such a system (including spectators, the board of directors, media channels, science/tech industry, activists), but i thought it was a bit chaotic and made it difficult to feel immersed in or connected to any one perspective.

still, i do think this is something everyone should read, more for education than enjoyment.

we are all of us delusional to some degree, caught up in the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves, the world and others. how accurate can our self-perception be? are we doomed to see our loved ones through the warping lens of desire? can we learn to look past our many preconceptions and prejudices? our deepest fears, secrets and dreams are stories too, and sometimes it is only when they are finally brought to light that we discover how true they were.

East of Eden explores how stories give our lives meaning, just as they give rise to wrath, envy, injustice. it says: yes, we may be sinful and fallible and mired in darkness, but we also have great capacity for good, and one cannot come without the other. we are the authors of our lives — burdened with responsibility and absolutely free.

Steinbeck writes in grand, luminous prose, the kind of author that could give a vacuum cleaner ad the sound of ode or elegy. he takes the mundane, the routine, and imbues it with biblical power and philosophical weight. and, like the bible, this book was not exactly a page turner and could’ve been significantly shorter. that said, many of the characters (Lee, Samuel, Cathy, Tom, Cal) touched my heart and stayed there, beautifully human and flawed as they are.