Abstract There is a consensus that Steinbeck based The Pearl on a folk tale he encountered during his travels with Ed Ricketts in the Sea of Cortez. However, since the 1950s, scholars of Mexican literature have claimed that Steinbeck used Dr. Atl’s 1936 short story, “El hombre y la perla,” as source material for his own pearl narrative. The connection between the two stories appears exclusively in scholarship about Dr. Atl and is often mentioned in passing. First, this article shows how Steinbeck’s retelling of his encounter with the pearl folk tale obscured the relationship between his story and Dr. Atl’s. It subsequently offers a comparative reading of the two stories to reveal their many similarities, supporting the claim of literary influence. Last, the article argues that through his reworking of “El hombre y la perla,” Steinbeck transformed the original narrative into a broader critique of colonialism and of the fascist politics that Dr. Atl embraced during the 1930s and 1940s.

Abstract This article discusses the traces of the fictional techniques of early Steinbeck in “The White Quail” and “The Chrysanthemums” in the prominent Uzbek author Odil Yoqubov’s short story “Goodness.” Using a comparative literary lens, it approaches similarities between the two authors in terms of subject matter, the ironic use of symbolism, point of view, gender relations, and spatial poetics.

Abstract This article points out the allusion to Genesis 3:15, commonly known as the Protoevangelium, in John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath.

Abstract John Steinbeck’s 1935 short story “The Snake” is notable primarily for introducing the character Doc—an analogue of Steinbeck’s friend and colleague Ed Ricketts—who would go on to appear in Cannery Row and Sweet Thursday. “The Snake” should also be considered an innovation, as it is an early example of noir fiction, an American literary and cultural style which rose to prominence only later in the century. Noir has not previously been tied to Steinbeck or “The Snake” in the scholarship, and so the questions are posed: what, exactly, is literary noir fiction and why does “The Snake” qualify? Literary noir has certain markers that “The Snake” demonstrates, most notably a pervasive sense of disorientation, cynicism, and death. Viewing “The Snake” as an early innovation can be used to help track the rapid development of literary noir in mid-century by comparing it to another short story released just two decades later: Chester Himes’s “The Snake,” published in 1959. Considering Steinbeck’s “The Snake” alongside Himes’s piece of the same name also sheds light on what the scholarship has recognized as a notable gap in Steinbeck’s otherwise egalitarian sociopolitical perspective—that of Black Americans.

Abstract This article deals with The Moon Is Down, a novel by American writer John Steinbeck, which later evolved into a play and movie. On its publication in 1942, it came as a shock to readers eagerly waiting another book on the same epic scale as its monumental predecessor, The Grapes of Wrath. During World War II, The Moon Is Down successfully served as a work of propaganda, as Steinbeck intended, raising morale in the European resistance movement. However, it is not contingent upon time or place; the enduring appeal of this work, which reflects delusions, traumas, and fears of a historical period, is attributable to its idea about the unconquerable spirit of those reacting to the assault on freedom and democracy. This is the assurance the people of Ukraine and Gaza, among others, want to hear.

Abstract This article is about activities and exhibits and background information on items that are recent acquisitions and donations at the Martha Heasley Cox Center for Steinbeck Studies at San Jose State University for the year 2024–25.

In a gallery on Fountain Avenue,a John Steinbeck pen holder rests in solitudeon a wooden table, longing for the penthat once nestled upon its surface,near a tribe of pencilsthat formed an “umbilical connectionbetween him and his words.”These pencils, essential to his craft,were objects of his passion.He “cherished their feel between his fingersand boasted of the callusesearned from holding them.”Their movement across the pagemade him believe that within the hearts of people,there still exists a place for hope.As I gaze at the pen holder,a voice from the past whispered to me,“It takes great courage to support truthunacceptable to our times.”This revelation ignited within me a longing to writemy own version of The Grapes of Wrath,to carve new paths for my angerwhere I won’t unleash it upon others,where “I don’t aspire to be perfect,but to be good;”where “there ain’t no sinand there ain’t no virtue.There’s just stuff people do,”where I won’t drop bombs on occupied lands,And kill innocents,“where death was a friend,and sleep was death’s brother,”where “vice has always a new fresh young face,”where I won’t use a novel’s titleto name a destructive war,where “repression works onlyto strengthen and knit the repressed,”where I won’t sever limbsas sacrifices on the altar of a privatized God.Instead, I will strive to see the days I’ve livedthrough a fresh lens,to feel the hand that grippedthe pencils in hours of solitude,drawing warmth from their spiritfor my times,chilled by the death of meaning.I will create vistas of hopewhere we can seek refugeand escape the horrors and confines of reality.On the road to the poem,to the stench,to the grating noise,to a quality of light,to a tone,to a habit,to nostalgia,to a dream,Steinbeck’s portraits hang on wiresor cling to poles,reviving memories of a life once livedin a city ruled by the gods of real estate moguls,where people forgot to ask,“How can we live without our lives?How will we know it’s us without our past?”I left the gallery and walked to search for a housethat Steinbeck had longed for since childhood.Then I drove to Salinas and parked by the river,which no longer flows deep and green,thinking of the days when Steinbeck walked hereand returned home to sharpen rebellious pencils;while around him “the land cracked,springs dried up,and the cattle listlessly nibbled on dry twigs.”I began to repeat his words on my lips,like a prayer, as I crossed the fields of Salinas,where time does not stop“to examine itself,”where “men are born with a debtthey can never repay,”where “muscles ache to work,minds ache to create,”where change remains elusive,where I hear the language of hands,playing the keys of reality’s piano,creating a symphony of unfulfilled dreams,where immigrant workersbend over seedlings,their sweat dripping,filling the inkwells of an unwritten rage.This poem draws on quotations from Cannery Row, East of Eden, The Grapes of Wrath, and other novels by John Steinbeck, as well as insights from those who knew him intimately.

Abstract “Steinbeck Today” includes contemporary notes and mentions of John Steinbeck’s works and legacy of interest to scholars, fans, and general-interest readers. In the first half of 2025, Steinbeck’s enduring impact emerged through AMC announcing a television adaptation of The Grapes of Wrath; a touring production Of Mice and Men and a new production of Mother Road, which was inspired by The Grapes of Wrath; the Western Flyer’s return to the Gulf of California; and important developments for the Steinbeck House in Sag Harbor.