Which is my favorite author. We should stop imposing in mainstream schools who have no interest today to leave the place they deserve in Steinbeck, London, Twain, Stevenson, and later in high school Auster, Kerouac, Bukowski, etc. there are spoiled for choice. Already our ancient storytellers who listened to the evening waiting to be their "tells" a story and that they "convey" something. Steinbeck, he tells well and in addition there is the bottom. He showed that he defends the genre was as good as the others by getting a Nobel Prize in 1962, and writing books not for criticism but for the general public, without taking us for idiots or cows . Despite its qualities, this book suffers from some flaws. A first complaint we make him is his translation frankly not great, but with a little imagination you get to meet the original intent. The second complaint we can make this book may spoil the fun, so expect to have it finished before reading the following: Steinbeck probably slept in hotels when he claimed to have slept in their camper he was also joined by his wife during his trip and would rather "imagined" some meetings and some places (compare the places "Dogging Steinbeck" Bill Steigerwald and "Travels with Judy" Vicki Cain to make his own idea). It suggests that the reported events are true to life and from fiction is not defined. That omission that excuse by his advanced age and declining health at the time, who probably pushed to find a little comfort in his journey. But by definition writers are professional liars, they make us believe in stories, characters, imaginary places and no one blames them. In short, a little faux pas committed with the complicity of his publisher, but nothing that challenges the quality of the story.
