Chapters (53)
- Books by Michael Thomas Ford
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Author’s Note
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- CHAPTER 32
- CHAPTER 33
- CHAPTER 34
- CHAPTER 35
- CHAPTER 36
- CHAPTER 37
- CHAPTER 38
- CHAPTER 39
- CHAPTER 40
- CHAPTER 41
- CHAPTER 42
- CHAPTER 43
- CHAPTER 44
- CHAPTER 45
- CHAPTER 46
- CHAPTER 47
- CHAPTER 48
- Copyright Page
“I’ve discovered that Steinbeck has a way of bringing people together in curious ways,” Helen announced. “It was part of his magic, I think. I’ve seen a fisherman who barely made it past the sixth grade discuss The Moon Is Down with a college professor, and quite vigorously, I might add. There’s something about the man that seduces you in the best sense of that word.”
A change had come over her voice, a kind of dreamy quality that suggested a longing for far-off places, or the remembrance of a first love. In another setting, Hudson might have mistaken it for the voice of a woman recalling a favorite suitor. But he knew what Helen meant; he’d felt it himself. It was, after all, why he was sitting in a chair in her office.
“Did your husband know about this affair you were having with Mr. Steinbeck?” Hudson asked.
Helen laughed briskly. “I like you, Mr. Jones,” she said. “I liked you well enough from our e-mail conversations, but now I know that I truly like you. And to answer your question, my husband no more understood my affair with John Steinbeck than I understood his love of golf. Some things are simply mysteries to outsiders. Now, are you finally going to tell me what brings you all the way to Salinas from Yale University? Surely you haven’t come just to get a look at me.”
“No,” Hudson answered. “Although that’s an added benefit.” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He’d told Helen Guerneyser sort of a half truth about his project. Partly this had been pure professional paranoia, but also he’d wanted to wait until he was at the National Steinbeck Center before he revealed too much. The truth was, he was afraid that if he told anyone the full story, they might prevent him from getting his answer.
“Well, as I said in my e-mails,” he began again, “I’m doing my thesis on Steinbeck’s journals. I’m interested in looking at the materials that haven’t been given widespread study.” He glanced at the archivist’s face, trying to read her reception to his story, but found there only polite attention.
“Everybody has looked at the Grapes of Wrath material,” he continued. “Also the East of Eden notes. Even the Sea of Cortez stuff has been done to death. I’m more interested in the lesser known books—The Moon Is Down, The Wayward Bus—things like that. What I really want to do is compare what Steinbeck was living, what he was feeling, to what ended up in those books.”