If you were to scale all human emotions on an equilibrium, which one would weigh the heaviest?
Would you think of love as your first choice? The one to compel people into madness, sacrifice, euphoria, or simply force them to continue living?
Or is it fear? The fear of death, the fear of missing out, the fear to choose, the fear to lose?
Or would you opt for one of the rawest of human emotions? Mostly the strongest; burning fires within you, forces you into the deepest of wells, creates the unyielding storms...
East of Eden is a novel that dwells around these emotions, but especially one, in their most organic form. Written by Steinbeck in 1952, the novel is still considered a masterpiece by most literary critics, which appalled me instantly, of course. Whenever some old dude is in a corner of his house, blowing his pipe and using his "masculine"(!) narrative to admire a piece of work, I usually refuse to follow his directions naturally. However, my years of rejecting the male narrative resulted in missing out on this work until this summer.
Spending the summer with my high school friends in one of the houses that has held generations of us has also probably made me drawn to the novel, to be honest. Well, not one of my usual bad choices.
East of Eden can also be named a "family saga," as it tells the story of two prominent families across two generations. The intertwined destinies of these households in Salinas Valley, California, explores not only the very myth behind the "American Dream" but also shows how this aspiration captures the hearts of individuals and forces them to show their true hands while surviving the aftershocks of the brutal reality behind it.
So far, this seems like a typical Steinbeck novel, or even something by Sinclair Lewis or F. Scott Fitzgerald.
However, there is something eerie at the core of this novel that makes it unique among its predecessors. The novel salutes one of the earliest stories ever written in history: The first story about jealousy. Cain and Abel. The story of the first murder, even further, the first story of killing someone from your blood. Kinslaying.
Although the narratives change—as in all religious testaments—Cain and Abel fight for their father’s love. Not many remember who ignites the first fire, who gives the side eye when the other is "loved" more, or who kills whom. In the end, one is dead and the other is punished and banished forever, carrying the mark forever.
The novel explores the idea of a fight over fatherly love, turning brother against brother, exploring the human psyche—especially around the feeling of jealousy—over generations. While the motherly figure is absent or present, brothers fighting over anything—anything that is valued, anything that symbolizes power over the other, anything that can hurt, bleed, or torture—becomes a curse of the families, connecting their destinies for over half a century.
The author doesn't only force you to think about concepts like jealousy and revenge, but at the same time obliges you to ponder upon the idea of how dire it is to choose to become a parent. Many characters in the novel question this throughout the course of events ("Was it a mistake for me to become a parent?") The novel strongly suggests that parenting is the core determinant of a person's fundamental character and psychological makeup. Therefore the family curse runs through the veins of many. However, the author admits through one father:
"Just as there are physical monsters, can there not be mental or psychic monsters born? The face and body may be perfect, but if a twisted gene or malformed egg can produce physical monsters, may not the same process produce a malformed soul?" (Steinbeck 72)
Not surprisingly, the character referred to is a woman, a crucial figure in the story who touches and destroys nearly all the characters in the novel. However, her presence is merely a reminder that someone who is not loved properly as a child can turn into the most spiteful character, even if loved after in perfect circumstances. Sadly, these characters just "love" to let the world burn.
Although this "pure evil" can exist, Steinbeck refutes his own idea of parental lineage and proposes that the soul endures the worst influences because of the choice—"Thou mayest."
Whether love prevails or turns into something even greater than pure hatred, is a matter of perspective in the novel. Again, compared to its rivals at the time, East of Eden shows great courage to end things on an ellipsis on which you can all continue with your own indented paragraph.
That's another subtle nod to the American Dream: to believe in truth and beauty and justice in the creation of mankind. As Steinbeck says:
"But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. ... It is always attacked and never destroyed—because 'Thou mayest.'" (Steinbeck 301)