Steinbeck's Works: the Circular Structure of Fingers of Cloud - Literature review Example

Natural Environment in Steinbeck’s Fingers of Cloud To pursue absolutes in thespirit of criticism is always dangerous (and often a mistake), but it seems safe to say that of all twentieth century American writers, John Steinbeck most embraced, cherished, and understood the natural environment. A writer and a naturalist, influenced and influential, Steinbeck wrote of lands he loved, most of all the intricate and subjective puzzle of his Salinas Valley home. What this paper aims to uncover-or, as Steinbeck would have likely preferred, discover- ­is how Steinbecks treatment of the natural environment evolved throughout his life by examining "Fingers of Cloud," the first story Steinbeck ever published. Published in the Stanford Spectator, a student enterprise, "Fingers of Cloud" seems out of place within its own deceptively-titled context, and, indeed, has been out of place, beyond the pens of Steinbeck critics, for over eighty years. Only Hughes and Timmerman have ventured more than the obligatory sentence or two that Steinbecks biographers have deigned to scribe and share. Hughess most helpful contribution is re-stating Thomas Kiernans biographical information concerning Steinbecks job as straw-boss on the Spreckels sugar-beet ranch in January 1921 (Hughes 4-5), which is likely the basis for some of the content in "Fingers of Cloud"; Timmermans is noting the "mysterious pull of the mountains upon the human spirit" in the story, which "would surface in later works of Steinbecks," and insisting, incorrectly, that Steinbecks initial offering is "clearly inferior" when compared with "the later Steinbeck canon" (Timmerman 11, 22). Regardless of the opinions regarding the source and worth of "Fingers and Cloud," ecocriticism of Steinbecks first story, as well as its place within Steinbecks overall environmental context, have never been attempted. "Fingers of Cloud" is brief, only five pages long. In the story a young orphaned woman named Gertie appears, sweeping the floors of her house, singing gaily to herself. Steinbeck describes Gerties "flat, pink face," her "benign smile," her "hair, as white as a washed sheeps wool and nearly as curly," and her "pink eyes" (160). In the span of only a few pages, Gertie ascends a mountain; gets caught in a rainstorm; barges into a Filipino labor camp; meets, seduces, and is seduced by Pedro, the boss; is married to him the following day; sets up house within the labor camp; gets beaten for days after; realizes and makes realized her whiteness and her new husbands blackness; and then, finally, re-­ascends the mountain after apparently leaving Pedro, for good, behind. In terms of characterization, setting, and dialogue, "Fingers of Cloud" offers tantalizing tastes of Steinbecks style--a style that would allow Steinbeck to begin realizing his deepest wish, and a style that would cement his status as Americans finest twentieth century American writer. Steinbecks first character, Gertie, disregards her worldly duties, embracing instead the brilliant mystery of tall mountains and bright skies. At the storys opener, Gertie chants to herself, "Dont have to sweep no more--dont have to wash no more--dont have to do absolutely nothin--no more" (160), repeating the last two words for extra effect. With her parents absent, and the family home now her own, the naive Gertie is well aware of her newfound freedom but does not yet realize how an absence of human connections will negatively impact her life, which comes into play later in Steinbecks story. It is as if, with her mother and father gone, Gerties purpose departs; and though her life may now be carefree, an emptiness still remains. Thus, Gertie decides to leave behind her neighborhood--which is a monotonous collection of "houses and fences and grass plots" followed immediately by "new houses and fences and grass plots" (160)--and instead succumbs to the pull of the wild from the top of a mountain. Interestingly enough, upon leaving, Gerties "street sickened, became weed-filled, and died, while the hills jounced steadily towards her" (160), a description which is Steinbecks first implication of the disconnect between an ordered yet dysfunctional civilization and the pulls of the simple, quiet wild. At this point Steinbeck discards all monologues and allows nature-narrative to carry the story. After Gertie luxuriates in removing her shoes, digging her toes into the soft river sand, and splashing amidst the waters, Steinbeck detours towards the most poignant juncture in his work: ... [S]he splashed out on the bank and started up a little hill which pretended to be a mountain. The slope was carpeted with the palest green of early spring. Some yellow May-flowers peeked from under their leaves and said, "Boo! Youre running away, my girl." Gertie stopped and regarded them fiercely. "I am not running away. I guess Im eighteen and know my own mind. Besides, Im an orphant, and an orphant cant run away because she aint got anything to run away from." She trampled the flowers into the ground and pranced on. (160) Steinbecks fiction is most intriguing when he decides to span the canyon between the real and the metaphysical, as in, for example, Of Mice and Men, where Lennie has the rabbit of his mind question the motives of his friendship with George. In "Fingers of Cloud," Gertie has the May-flowers of her mountain question her motives in "running away." This direct questioning, followed by Gerties even more direct response, serves a dual purpose: First, the flowers tell Gertie a thing she does not wish to hear, a too-blunt truth that provokes her destructive impulse. Steinbecks aim here is to point out that humans who choose to leave civilization to commune with nature must be prepared to not only enjoy its fruits but also to assume some type of moral responsibility for what was left behind--a philosophy with which Gertie definitely does not comply. Second, directly after trampling the flowers, Gertie, "[o]n top ofthe foolish little mountain… sat down to watch the autos crawl along the highway," listening to the "faint echo of their horns," witnessing a "blinding flash as the sun found a windshield" (160). These instant bursts of civilization within Gerties once-serene wilderness foreshadow her later disconnect from Pedro and his peers--indeed, from all humanity--a disconnect that begins with a purposeless response to the insatiable curiosity of (and direct confrontation with) nature. Thus, it is little surprise when the story turns apocalyptic: the sky splits, the thunder crashes, the storm pours, and Gertie, sopping wet, returns with regret to the existentially empty human hell from which she only attempted to escape. Yet, even after being re-tamed by life at camp, and attempting to tame Pedro and his cohorts, a well-served Gertie cannot pull herself away from her failure on top of the mountain. Steinbeck points out that, in her new home environment, Gertie "was very workless and very happy" (164)--a false leisure which strengthens the mountains magnetism towards her psyche. In "Fingers of Cloud" Steinbeck directs: Gerties eyes wandered from her seat to the dusty beets in the fields and then up on the cool little mountain. Always her eyes returned to the mountain. It seemed that you could tear off a piece of the hanging cloud and chew it, spitting out the coarse part. (164) The reader knows that the last sentence above is impossible; Gertie was unable to touch the clouds, touch nature, following the destruction of the May-flowers. She had violated a law of purpose and had been punished with purpose itself. After being beaten down repeatedly-with curtain rods, sweaty backs, and horse-heads in the fire barrel as both literal and figurative weapons--Gertie repeats her exit from the first part of the story in leaving her new husband and old civilization behind: Gertie stepped out of the river and started up the hill to the top where the clouds stretched themselves. She chanted as she walked in her bare feet through the sharp grass. "No more, no more, I aint coming down no more… I aint coming back no more. Ill live up there in the sun." She quickened her steps and mounted very rapidly. In a moment she started to run, and she was breathless when she came to the top. Suddenly she realized that the clouds had jumped up a long way. She was as angry as her breathlessness would permit. From the highway below came the occasional honk of an automobile horn, and now and then there was a blinding flash as the sun found a windshield. (164) The circular structure of "Fingers of Cloud", ­suggests the paradoxes which beautifully sprinkle Steinbecks works, and which Steinbeck himself believed were an essence of science, specifically, and life, overall. Gertie ends where she began; the honking horns still invade her paradise; and, again, "no more" will she subject herself to the blackest wrongs of the supposedly-civilized world. These pieces, when connected, offer the first completed comer of Steinbecks evolving environmental puzzle. Absent of purpose at "home," Gertie is drawn in reverse to a more pristine cradle; yet absent of purpose within it, she is spit out and pushed back, even when she believes, mistakenly, that she has a second chance. Though one of the storys goals may be "to identify or measure a character against nature" (Shillinglaw 8), Steinbecks point of purpose within nature and, thus, for nature, began in its spare infancy with "Fingers of Cloud," and continued to refine throughout his writing career. Via Gertie, Steinbeck urges that a world of private pastorals is simply not enough, even-­and, perhaps, especially--for escape. Work Cited Hughes, R.S. Beyond the Red Pony: A Readers Companion to Steinbecks Complete Short Stories. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1987. Timmerman, John H. The Dramatic Landscape of John Steinbecks Short Stories. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma, 1990. Steinbeck, John, "Fingers of Cloud." Stanford Spectator. 2.9 (Feb. 1924): 160-164. Shillinglaw, Susan. Introduction. "A Steinbeck Scholars Perspective." Steinbeck and the Natural Environment: An Interdisciplinary Approach. Eds. Susan F. Beegel, Susan Shillinglaw, and Wesley N. Tiffney, Jr. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1997.8-13. Read More

In terms of characterization, setting, and dialogue, "Fingers of Cloud" offers tantalizing tastes of Steinbecks style--a style that would allow Steinbeck to begin realizing his deepest wish, and a style that would cement his status as Americans finest twentieth century American writer. Steinbecks first character, Gertie, disregards her worldly duties, embracing instead the brilliant mystery of tall mountains and bright skies. At the storys opener, Gertie chants to herself, "Dont have to sweep no more--dont have to wash no more--dont have to do absolutely nothin--no more" (160), repeating the last two words for extra effect.

With her parents absent, and the family home now her own, the naive Gertie is well aware of her newfound freedom but does not yet realize how an absence of human connections will negatively impact her life, which comes into play later in Steinbecks story. It is as if, with her mother and father gone, Gerties purpose departs; and though her life may now be carefree, an emptiness still remains. Thus, Gertie decides to leave behind her neighborhood--which is a monotonous collection of "houses and fences and grass plots" followed immediately by "new houses and fences and grass plots" (160)--and instead succumbs to the pull of the wild from the top of a mountain.

Interestingly enough, upon leaving, Gerties "street sickened, became weed-filled, and died, while the hills jounced steadily towards her" (160), a description which is Steinbecks first implication of the disconnect between an ordered yet dysfunctional civilization and the pulls of the simple, quiet wild. At this point Steinbeck discards all monologues and allows nature-narrative to carry the story. After Gertie luxuriates in removing her shoes, digging her toes into the soft river sand, and splashing amidst the waters, Steinbeck detours towards the most poignant juncture in his work: .

[S]he splashed out on the bank and started up a little hill which pretended to be a mountain. The slope was carpeted with the palest green of early spring. Some yellow May-flowers peeked from under their leaves and said, "Boo! Youre running away, my girl." Gertie stopped and regarded them fiercely. "I am not running away. I guess Im eighteen and know my own mind. Besides, Im an orphant, and an orphant cant run away because she aint got anything to run away from." She trampled the flowers into the ground and pranced on. (160) Steinbecks fiction is most intriguing when he decides to span the canyon between the real and the metaphysical, as in, for example, Of Mice and Men, where Lennie has the rabbit of his mind question the motives of his friendship with George.

In "Fingers of Cloud," Gertie has the May-flowers of her mountain question her motives in "running away." This direct questioning, followed by Gerties even more direct response, serves a dual purpose: First, the flowers tell Gertie a thing she does not wish to hear, a too-blunt truth that provokes her destructive impulse. Steinbecks aim here is to point out that humans who choose to leave civilization to commune with nature must be prepared to not only enjoy its fruits but also to assume some type of moral responsibility for what was left behind--a philosophy with which Gertie definitely does not comply.

Second, directly after trampling the flowers, Gertie, "[o]n top ofthe foolish little mountain… sat down to watch the autos crawl along the highway," listening to the "faint echo of their horns," witnessing a "blinding flash as the sun found a windshield" (160). These instant bursts of civilization within Gerties once-serene wilderness foreshadow her later disconnect from Pedro and his peers--indeed, from all humanity--a disconnect that begins with a purposeless response to the insatiable curiosity of (and direct confrontation with) nature.

Thus, it is little surprise when the story turns apocalyptic: the sky splits, the thunder crashes, the storm pours, and Gertie, sopping wet, returns with regret to the existentially empty human hell from which she only attempted to escape.

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