The Red Pony

The Red Pony, by John Steinbeck

I read this one this afternoon.  It was a glorious day: I was working on my tan, sitting on one of our new lawn chairs... glorious. 

While I don't consider myself a Steinbeck fan, I do appreciate his writing from time to time.  This most recent one reminded of me why I equally like and loathe him.  He certainly creates a scene, develops an interesting character, and causes you to care.  At the same time, however, I find that he revels in the despair of the time period.  I hate how he makes me like a character and then either kills them off or causes them to experience emotional or physical hardship.  Heartbreaking.  

Sigh.  I cannot deny, though, that I truly enjoyed The Red Pony.  I loved the relationship between Jody and Billy Buck.  Billy, the hired hand, had the most depth, I think, of the characters.  I also loved Grandfather and how he was unable to give up his thrilling adventure in the past.  Jody, the boy, essentially told the story; through that, I was given insight into his thoughts and emotional responses, but I cared more about the surrounding characters, to be honest.

Read it.  It'll take you maybe two hours.