i have been reading this book forever. and i realize that coming from me, that means a week or two. but this book has existed, albeit in the back of my mind and in some form or another, since december or january. normally that would be repulsive to me, but i don't think this book should be read in even a week. i think it should be read in snippets over time. it feels most like a voyage that way, at least for me.

i don't feel qualified to even rate this book. i honestly can't believe i finished it.

i love steinbeck--he's up there with fitzgerald for me: an author i adore, an author whose breadth of work i will likely never read, as i selected each as a favorite after a couple of novels. and yes, this work contained those classic steinbeck irritations: the old man superiority to change and to the young; the ignorance of women--somehow his characteristic flat female characters exist, or fail to, even in nonfiction; the quiet racism that refuses to recognize itself.

yet this was a book about travel, about America, in the sharp, simple, philosophical voice i love. i marked this up over and over with an orange highlighter and blue Post-It scraps. steinbeck may have come to know america like few--maybe no one--have, and i feel fortunate to have seen a changing country through his eyes.

i suppose i must give this 5 stars, though i'm tempted to give it 4. but reading this was as much a labor of love as writing it must have been, and it isn't a work i'll soon forget.