One of the greatest delights in writing this lengthy trilogy is that it has given me a reason to reread a series of American classics, including Huck Finn, The Sound and the Fury, and The Grapes of Wrath, and to discover others such as The Bones of Plenty. I have already pointed to the quality that I believe sets John Steinbeck’s novel apart from the others. William Faulkner was without doubt the greater writer; he wrote more elegant prose, plumbed more deeply into the human condition, had a wider and more varied reach in the characters he created. But it was Steinbeck’s great achievement to write an entirely believable, heartbreaking human tale that was also a powerful political statement, one of the most powerful ever written. Rage is very difficult to harness. It is easy to find a million reasons to be angry with the late, unlamented regime of George W. Bush and Dick Cheney, much more difficult to restrain that rage in order to let a story tell itself, to let the anger rise from within rather than imposing it from without. Because Steinbeck deals with the fundamental conflict in American society, the clash between unrestrained capitalism and labor, especially during a time of great contrast, and because he does it in a human way, without dogma or diatribe, The Grapes of Wrath stands apart from the other great novels written by Americans.

The boxing sequences are reminiscent of those in The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway, who also has a boxer character by the name of Jake. Is that parallel deliberate?

It is entirely a coincidence that my character is also named Jake, but Hemingway was one of my earliest influences and the two characters do have much in common. Both Jake McCloskey and Jake Barnes are veterans of the Great War, both have a certain attitude toward women that recognizes a sort of female toughness that was not widely perceived before Hemingway began writing about it, both harbor deep prejudices, and both are familiar with the brutality of boxing. They differ sharply in their ability to consummate a relationship with a woman.

The peaceful, tranquil farm sequences greatly contrast the rowdy, violent boxing ones. Did you have to be in a different mindset to write each of them? Do you have a personal interest in boxing?

In both cases, I simply tried to depict the scenes I recall. Working on the farm, breaking ice from the stock tank with an axe, relaxing in the evening and listening to Edgar Bergen or Jack Benny on the radio, helping my father train horses at dawn and boxers in the evening, watching my mother in her rare quiet moments with her volume of Chekhov’s stories and a cup of tea, trying to squeeze in a little reading while my father ranted about how the working man could never catch a break.