Meditations on the Road - Part 3

One of the most renowned books about a road trip is John Steinbeck’s “Travels with Charley.”  Many people I know have remarked that “Travels” is their favorite book by Steinbeck.  I’ve read substantially all of Steinbeck’s published works and in my (not humble) opinion, “Travels” ranks in the lower tier.  The reason I mention this book is that at least 10 or 12 friends and acquaintances have said to me, when learning of my upcoming journey around America, that my trip reminds them of “Travels.”  After hearing that comment a few times, I decided to reread “Travels,” which I last read way back in the early 70’s.

There are definite parallels between the grand excursion I’ve planned and Steinbeck’s tour.  Among them:  he was 58 when he launched, as am I; he bought a pickup truck and a truck camper specifically for his journey, as did I; his trip started in New York, and mine will start in nearby eastern Pennsylvania; he took some fishing equipment with him, and I’ll take A LOT of fishing equipment with me; he drove many thousands of miles circling America, and I’ll drive many thousands of miles circling America (about twice as many as Steinbeck did, actually). Beyond that, our escapades may not much resemble one another.

I have nothing against dogs – I like dogs – but the idea of taking a poodle (such as Steinbeck’s Charley) with me as a principal companion just doesn’t hold much appeal.  And although Steinbeck suggested early in his book that fishing would be an important activity on his trip, in fact he did very little fishing and demonstrated little competence when he did.  I will fish frequently.  But the most important departure is that our fundamental missions are wholly different.  Steinbeck’s stated goal was to rediscover the Americans about whom he had been writing for decades.  To his credit, he realized that he had resided too long in an ivory tower, having been honored with the Pulitzer Prize over two decades earlier.  His prominence rivaled or exceeded Hemingway’s or any of the other famed American novelists of the mid-20^th century – an era when the phrase “the great American novel” really meant something.  He was known as a voice of the common man, of the Tom Goad’s of America, but now he recognized that his perspective had warped.  He wanted to travel about, somewhat aimlessly, and talk to Americans of all stripes and from many regions, plying them with whiskey when his subdued personality couldn’t draw them out.  His goal was a noble one and perhaps he believed he achieved it in the end.

The problem with Steinbeck’s effort was one that I discussed in a recent post – the problem that “wherever you go, there you are.”  Steinbeck lugged his liberal socialist ideals around with him wherever he went and observed everyone through a reddish lens.  Back in the sixties, it was certain he would find many Americans who would offend his humanistic sensibilities.  He did, of course, especially in the southern states.  Many people who know me would say that I show liberal socialist tendencies.   I think I’m more of a pragmatist than a liberal, strictly speaking, but I strongly sympathize with Steinbeck’s ideals and they are among the reasons I’ve always admired him as a novelist.  Many of the same racist and greed-laden attitudes and comments that incited him to create scathing and sarcastic depictions of certain characters in “Travels” would have offended me as well.  Although I understand perfectly why Steinbeck was angered and disillusioned by some of the backwards and materialistic people he encountered, the difference between us is that I don’t have the ostensible goal of gaining a higher level of understanding of Americans.   Steinbeck seemed not to realize how his biases stunted his capacity for learning.  If the content of “Travels” reflects any newly-acquired knowledge of people’s souls, I’m missing it. Steinbeck saw in Americans exactly what he projected on them.  There are no insights into the causes of the attitudes and behaviors he despised.

I won’t be writing about America in the way Steinbeck did, in part because it is not my primary goal to learn more about Americans.  My goals are to learn more about fly fishing, firstly, and myself, secondly.  To the extent I focus on meeting new people, I’m not going to write about how ignorant they are, even if they are.  America and Americans are exceedingly complex and no writer can adequately capture that complexity in a mere book, or blog, or anything else he or she can generate from experiences within a few months or even a lifetime, no matter how far ranging are his or her travels.  Walt Whitman came as close as anyone to accomplishing that in his “Leaves of Grass” (not coincidentally, poetry rather than prose).  I’m sorry to say that Steinbeck failed miserably in “Travels with Charley,” notwithstanding his greatness as a chronicler or American experience and writer of fiction.

Simon and Garfunkel recorded an excellent tune in the late sixties about traveling “to look for America.”  Every line has a great scene or image – for example, as the narrator rides on a bus he observes that “the moon rose over an open field.”  It’s a simple image that perfectly captures his solitude and ennui.  At the conclusion of the song, the listener is left with the distinct impression that the narrator did not find America – he simply skimmed its surface, repeatedly bumping into himself in every scene.  Simon and Garfunkel understood the futility of searching for America.  Our nation is a chimera.  It’s polymorphic and mercurial, and it’s all the wonderful things Whitman said it was.

In my song, you won’t hear about how I discovered America or Americans.  But I hope you’ll find out that a fly fisherman can practice his craft just about anywhere in America that the oceans and rivers and lakes remain clean.  He can find joy in that, and in spending some quiet time with himself and his friends.