Tortilla Flat

Above the Californian fishing-port of Monterey stands an old settlement called Tortilla Flat. It is inhabited by people whose blood is a mixture of Spanish, Mexican, Italian, and other assorted varieties — pais-anos, as they are called — and no more vivid community exists anywhere on the West Coast. Some of them work a little, in the fish-canning factories of Monterey, but one of their main activities is the cultivation of indolence in all its forms. This is the happy-go-lucky setting of John Steinbeck’s diverting novel about Danny, a work-shy vagabond who sets up house in Tortilla Flat with sundry companions of his own kidney. In order to maintain themselves without resort to honest employment they develop a complicated technique of rascality, and manage to enjoy an abundant share of wine, women, and conviviality. Their diligent pursuit of a carefree life involves them in major escapades as well as minor ruses, and Steinbeck’s command of robust narrative enjoys full scope in this story. But so, too, does his profound power of sympathetic observation which here, as in such other novels as Of Mice and Men, Cannery Row, and The Grapes of Wrath, is applied to the compassionate delineation of men and women who live outside the pale of polite society.