Impressively, I managed to earn an English degree without ever reading this book. Today, I remedied this, and perhaps more impressively, I entered this horrible story unspoiled.

Yes, I said horrible. Yes, I give it four stars. And I might nudge it up to five later, after I've processed it.

Writing classes can (and probably some do) use this little book to teach ... well, a whole list of techniques. How to wield omniscient point of view with the emotional resonance of deep point of view. How to withhold backstory (in this case forever). How to compose audible dialogue in which every character's voice is different.

Most notably, Steinbeck teaches here how to construct a story in which every last thing is inevitable yet none of them is predictable. The foreshadowing of

Spoiler

Lennie's death

is heavy. Steinbeck wants us to see it coming--or more accurately, to feel it coming. But he doesn't want us to guess the particulars, so we don't (at least I didn't). This book is a storm cloud that begins to grow on the first page, piles higher and higher onto itself until the single streak of electricity, the single crack of thunder, and then the book is over and the reader is left in numb, buzzing shock. This is what I've been reading toward all this time. Of course it is. Why didn't I know

Spoiler

it would be George

? Wait, maybe I did.

I hate this story for being true. I want a different outcome even as I see that any other end would be a lie. This is life. Horrible and twisted and unjust. Right choices seem wrong and wrong choices seem right. Ours is a muddy world and we are broken, dirty souls, and as always, Steinbeck faces this reality, assaults his readers with it, and doesn't blink.

Dang it. Okay. Five stars.