So… when I suggested Cannery Row for breezy summer reading, I’d forgotten there are two suicides within the first 25 pages. I’d forgotten that even having read the book at least three times in the past. It’s hard to say they’re inconsequential moments to a book that only goes on for about another 100 pages, but in contrast to the many books of the so-called literary genre where self-destruction is the grand crescendo of the story, the memorable pleasures of Cannery Row decidedly lie with other characters. It’s instructional that immediately after the sad tale of Horace, the original owner of the building that will become known as the Palace Flophouse, we meet Mack. Horace is never spoken of again while Mack may be the most consequential character in the book. Steinbeck emphatically, if indelicately, makes clear the type of man he wants to consider and praise. The decent man who frets his lost job and mounting debts makes a quick exit while the no-good layabout gets a second chance at throwing a party.

Steinbeck’s books are full of plans ruined to the point that a reader feels dread whenever a character’s anticipation builds. The rabbits in Of Mice and Men, Adam’s business venture in East of Eden, the promise of California in The Grapes of Wrath – all these are dreams exquisitely constructed just to be shattered by reality. Even in Cannery Row’s interstitials there’s the second early tragedy in William, and also young Frankie spilling his tray and getting jail time for his love of Doc (and Doc’s inability to offer any comfort beyond material needs is a big blow to his stature as the neighborhood’s moral guidepost), and even a lowly mole who gets his ass kicked simply for wanting a mate and litter of kids. Only Mack and the boys have the world figured out. By not having any ambitions, they can’t fail.

Doc recognizes the virtue and the freedom in Mack’s approach. “They can satisfy their appetites without calling them something else,” he observes. The Zen of the Palace Flophouse is, like all the contradictions Steinbeck describes in his opening description of the row denizens, a philosophy of contradictions where a group of men focus their effort and intelligence to avoid communal responsibility. Exclusionary to William, accepting to Darling. Thieves with honor who would walk a mile to avoid a job that would build a future while hauling a cast iron stove three because they want it that moment. Mack’s way of life makes a man happy, but only at the expense of others. Mack acknowledges as much in a heartbreaking passage where he confesses his low habits after Doc’s place gets wrecked during surprise party #1. Mack is a guide to avoiding personal failure, but without Doc, Lee Chong and Dora everything would fail.

Of the Responsible Trio, Dora has the least to do with the story – is unfortunately one of Steinbeck’s thinner characters, despite the admiration heaped on her capabilities as madam of the local bordello. Both Doc and Lee Chong have multiple interactions with Mack and the boys and though both are upstanding businessmen, we see the common ground between them and the unemployed Flophouse gang. They protect their interests and respect intelligence, their own and that of Mack. Lee Chong carefully picks through his options when dealing with Mack, giving up advantages to make sure he’s in position to get ahead in the end (or at least not lose ground). It’s hilarious when he presses his advantage after converting the boys to a frog-based economy, though that eventually blows up in his face because that’s the price of dealing with Mack.

Where Lee Chong has pragmatism, Doc has generosity. Doc is as protective of his things as Lee Chong – witness the many steps and clarifications it takes to keep him from stealing money for gas (part of which the boys end up siphoning anyway) – but he’s not beholden to the material goods. He’s angry when they’re wrecked and stolen, then he offers the vandal a beer. In Doc we see the benefit of a world that tolerates the layabout. Doc sees the laziness of the Flophouse boys not as a reprehensible flaw needing correction, but as an inevitability. A virtue, even. You can fight them in an effort to make the world as it ought – and no doubt Mack needs a fight now and then – but in the end you may be better off getting extra steaks and drinks to offer your home invaders. Sometimes you beat ‘em, sometimes you join ‘em.

I blew off an afternoon of work to re-read Cannery Row and I hope you were able to as well. I was annoyed with myself the next day as I worked against a suddenly looming deadline. But the work would have been there either way, and if I would have been more responsible and felt more comfortable getting it done over two days instead one, well, I also wouldn’t have had the pleasure of sitting in the sun with a book in my lap.

Stray observations:

• There’s something beautiful about the phrase “two quarts of beer.” Maybe because “quart” kind of sounds like a gulp of beer going down the throat.
• For those looking for more tales from Cannery Row, Steinbeck wrote a sequel Sweet Thursday which I’ve only read once, though I remember enjoying it.
• I have never seen the movie adaptation (from the writer of Major League!), and the cover where I presume Doc is gazing lovingly at a woman gives me pause. It probably borrows from Sweet Thursday, but I like to imagine this is just one of his many paramours.