This book could have just as easily been called, "Travels with Charley, in Search of John Steinbeck" in my opinion. I absolutely loved it, and felt like it was filled with lighthearted, innocent humor.

The way he talks about Charley as though the dog is smarter than the master is just hilarious. Steinbeck has a way of personifying his pet, without the pet ever having its voice heard throughout the book. It's very clever and is always good for a little chuckle.

Aside from the man/dog social interactions that serve as the comic relief, this account of Steinbeck's lap across the country in the early 1960s reveals much about the character of Americans back then, but even more than that it reveals quite a bit about John Steinbeck himself. He seemed to look for patterns or trends in American behavior in various parts of the country, and it helps those who have always loved his prose to see just how he picked apart society and translated his findings into detailed written accounts that are as fun to read as they are vivid.

I am glad that I didn't read this story as one of my first Steinbeck books, or I am afraid I wouldn't have appreciated it nearly as much as I did after having read most of his great literary works. I wouldn't urge anybody to read this if they are not familiar with the author already, because he has many more impactful and poetically written books than this, and Travels with Charley is really more of a glance at Steinbeck and America, through his very own eyes and interpretation, as opposed to a story that displays the true poetic genius that he really was.

This is a great book, and well worth the read, but wait until you get to know his work better before you pick this one up. It is a fantastic book nonetheless, but you'll enjoy it more that way.

I don't totally love all of John Steinbeck's novels, but this journal of his middle-age crisis road trip is unforgettable and unbeatable. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll cheer, you'll swear...and eventually you'll say I have got to do that TOO!

I read this book before bedtime. I read it on snowy days, on rainy days, on sunny days. I read it while listening to the ocean waves. I could totally relate to Steinbeck's experiences. I too have traveled the United States- with a cat. Cats arent quite as fun, but he didnt seem to mind.
I experienced Steinbeck and Charley's travels with them. I laughed with them, cried with them, felt disgust at the Cheerleaders with them. I know the feeling of getting lost in familiar territoty. I still recall the peaceful serenity of mountanous roads, rudely interrupted with manic city highways. I WAS there!
This book will always remain on my bookshelf. John Steinbeck is my liteary hero.

I have to admit that I did not choose this book because of a prior love of Steinbeck, nor even to learn something profound about America circa 1962. No, I chose this book because I wanted to know more about Charley, pure and simple. I was checking in books at my library and noticed the dog's photograph on the front cover, and for some reason I couldn't shake the feeling that he was a dog worth knowing. A week later I wandered over to the shelf and took the book home just so I could find out more about the wise looking Poodle.

I was not disappointed in the dog. He had lovely quirks. What's not to love about a dog who goes about saying "Ftt" and who discovers in his old age that he is a mighty bear hunter? I was also not disappointed in Steinbeck. He is a writer of great insight and a person who carefully observes people. And the best part is that in his observations of others, Steinbeck reveals himself.

The purpose of Steinbeck's cross-country journey (besides proving he was still capable of traveling alone at his age) was to reconnect to the American people. Steinbeck wanted to recapture what it meant to be an American, but what he ended up encountering was the vast array of personality that makes up this country.

At times in his narrative Steinbeck tries to bring his experiences of different people into a place of commonality. For instance, he rather humorously states that all Americans have itchy feet because we are all descended from those people who were brave enough to strike out on their own (the assumption being that the quiet homebodies all remained in Europe). He "proves" this point by saying, "The pioneers, the immigrants who peopled the continent, were the restless ones in Europe. The steady rooted ones stayed home and are still there." However, even in such a seemingly innocuous statement (this is a travel book after all) there are visible exceptions. All those old friends and family members who Steinbeck encounters in his hometown of Salinas were obviously rooted to one place. And the many restless wanderers he does run into are the kind of people one would expect to meet along the highways and in amongst the travel diners of America. If he had strayed into more obscure locations his findings may have been completely different.

However, despite such jokes early on, Steinbeck is too insightful to simply force a definition of "American" on those he encounters just to make himself comfortable. That is what makes his short book so honest and interesting. He knows that he himself brings an element of bias into all of his observations. Indeed, some of the people who he found most distasteful may have been merely caught by him at the wrong time. I love that he is willing to acknowledge this, "I discovered long ago in collecting and classifying marine animals that what I found was closely intermeshed with how I felt at the moment. External reality has a way of being not so external at all."

Such an acknowledgment does not in any way diminish the power of Steinbeck's descriptions though. The waitress he encounters and finds so utterly distasteful may have been merely tired or struggling with a night of defeat, but none of that matters to us. What matters is that his description of her as one "who can drain off energy and joy, can suck pleasure dry" rings a bell with the reader. We all know of whom he is speaking. We have all met someone like this and have had these same irritated thoughts. It is a pleasure to hear such thoughts articulated so well.

In fact, much of my pleasure in reading this book was in learning bit by bit about Steinbeck. His character unfolds with his observations and it grips the reader. When he deplores the waste he sees all around America's large cities one can't help but feel surprise. His statements are so out of sync with his time and yet would prove to be prophetic. His humorous description of local hunters and government officials at national borders reveal a delightfully dry wit. And yet this same wit is tinged with sadness as he describes the new breed of Americans who travel in mobile homes. He is able to see all that is being lost in America without building a shrine to the past, "Mother's cooking was with rare exceptions poor, that good unpasteurized milk touched only by flies and bits of manure crawled with bacteria, the healthy old-time life was riddled with aches, sudden death from unknown causes, and that sweet local speech I mourn was the child of illiteracy and ignorance." It is a rare ability to be so honest about what was and still make a reader feel the loss of it.

I know that much has been said of Steinbeck's experience in the South at the end of the book, and although it was obviously an emotionally draining time for him, and one that put a close to his trip, it was not the moment that stood out to me. For me, the significant moment in Steinbeck's travels was when he had the opportunity to kill two coyotes in the wild. He comes to that moment with years of training behind him. Steinbeck is not unfamiliar with a rifle and considers the killing of two coyotes to be a public service, and yet he does not kill them. Instead he observes them, becomes aware of their value in the arid desert, and leaves a small offering of food when he departs.

For me, this wasn't merely a satisfying scene because I dislike the idea of blood sport, but because I think it represents his trip as a whole. Steinbeck set off to discover America and in the process he saw many people, both the ugly and the inspirational. We as readers are given the chance to share those experiences only because of Steinbeck's sensitivity to what he observed. Just as he spared the coyotes, animals that many considered vermin, he also saved the personalities he encountered and presented them to us for our own conclusions.

In his introduction, Jay Parini states that Steinbeck, "refused, at last, the prophetic note that might have lifted Travels with Charley above the level of a merely charming and absorbing travelogue." I couldn't disagree more. That is what I loved about this book. Steinbeck makes no great statement of truth that we all must swallow in order to join him and Charley. He leaves the conclusions to the reader. I think that is a strength in the book, just as I think it is a stronger choice to spare two lonely coyotes.

I'm glad that Charley's wizened expression led me to this book. It was well worth reading.

Travels with Charley is a solid four-star book. You should read it. It is nowhere NEAR the best thing Steinbeck ever wrote (viz. Of Mice and Men--IMHO), but it does give personal insight into one of the greatest American writers of the 20th century...a guy whose name belongs right alongside Fitzgerald, Faulkner, Warren, etc.

The book is a travelogue, recounting Steinbeck's 1960 solo-except-for-a-French-poodle-named-Charley cross-country road-trip. Nothing really exceptional occurs, but the pages turn nevertheless. Steinbeck has the chops to make sump'n out of near-nuthin', and the reader is transported INTO the front seat of Steinbeck's truck, observing what Steinbeck observed, hearing the voices of the people he encountered, smelling the air, feeling stiffness in the limbs after a few too many hours on the road.

Steinbeck seems to be aware of the lack of Moments. If he set out to "find" America, he failed. He drove a lot, drank plenty of coffee, met a couple characters, but did not have an Experience. There was no epiphany. No transcendent thunderbolt of revelation, wherein the secret of life was revealed by an ancient Indian shaman. (Charley got prostatitis and had to stay at the vet's for a few days.)

At the very end, there is an episode on racism which struck me as...suspect. Steinbeck was wont to play with the "truth" and embellished events as any writer worth his liquor inevitably does. His political sympathies and unvarnished outrage at segregation led him, I believe, to fudge his great moral coda. Encountering Jim Crow in New Orleans, Steinbeck reconstructs a too-good-to-be-true black family from his youth in Salinas (Wikipedia--I know, I know--casts some doubt as to their authenticity, but other sources indicate that they did, in fact, exist...although to what extent they resembled Steinbeck's hagiographic portrait is unclear), and has interludes with an old black man who encapsulates the pain and oppression of Southern racism, and a white man who epitomizes the evil, unattractive nature of bigotry.

Those interludes are, uh, a little TOO black and white. They don't seem real (the white guy, especially, is a caricature). I don't think Steinbeck invented them completely...but I think he may have finagled with reality in order to serve the narrative--HIS narrative. That's his perfect right, of course, but as a reader, one can feel the tug of the nose-ring.

Still, I recommend the book.