Today marks the publication anniversary of the great John Steinbeck novel, "Of Mice and Men." Hollywood has stamped it's celluloid interpretation of the story through the years, but I still get the 1939 version starring Lon Chaney, Jr. as "Lennie" and Burgess Meredith as "George" as a first memory when recalling the tale. John Malkovich and Gary Sinise did another fine adaptation in 1992, but the original was produced in the same era as the novel was written.
Gary Sinise has a highly recommended audio reading and it will certainly go on my list of "to reads" ("to listens?").
Today's edition of The Writer's Almanac says that Steinbeck's dog tore up his nearly finished first rough draft of the book. Those were the days of manual typewriters and handwritten manuscripts, not the quick save computerized luxury we modern writers use today. On the several occasions when my computer locked up or the electricity did a jellyroll and I have lost an hour or so of difficult composition, my frustration reaches two-year old tantrum level. I can't imagine losing an entire first draft and having to rewrite it all over again. For those of us who aspire to write, the anguish old John must have felt is palpable. Fortunately for his fans and the literary world, he did make that rewrite.
Steinbeck may not be your cup of reading tea, but his imagery magic with words is hard to deny. Whenever I see jackrabbits in the Texas countryside, I understand this Steinbeck passage from "Of Mice and Men":
Evening of a hot day started the little wind to moving among the leaves. The shade climbed up the hills toward the top. On the sand banks the rabbits sat as quietly as little gray, sculptured stones.
I wish to write this good.
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