Steinbeck’s Ghost (23 page)

The crowd that night seemed enormous from behind the curtains, but Travis wasn’t nervous at all. He was holding the library’s only copy of
Corral de Tierra
, which was now like an old friend to him.

He read two short sections, one about the frog hunt, which had people in tears with laughter, and the climactic scene when Steinbeck’s sister Mary is bitten by a rattlesnake. During this section, Travis thought, If this were a book, you could hear a pin drop.

But he surprised himself by adding one section to the reading at the last moment, the book’s last paragraphs. He made the decision while he was onstage, a sudden inspiration. These had always been among his favorite words in the entire book—Steinbeck sitting in his attic bedroom window and longing to go back to the Corral. After everything that had happened, it seemed impossible to leave this scene out. He was reading these words not so much for the audience, or for Oster, or even himself, but for something bigger. He was reading these as a tribute to the boy in the window.

“John regarded the books scattered around his desk, how much he had loved them all—
Le Morte d ’Arthur
,
Treasure Island
,
The Aeneid
, the rest. No, these books were not life, he knew, and now that he’d seen life so much more close up, in the Corral with his sister nearly dying, he knew more than ever that books did not take the place of real life. But books were important, too. Hadn’t they taken him out of his quiet family home and led him into the real world? Without these books, he’d have never gone out there.

“Outside the window, the dark shape of the Santa Lucias called to him, quietly but powerfully. He would return there someday, and soon.

“John picked up his pen and began to write.”

The audience loved it, and at the book table after the readings, people kept asking to buy
Corral de Tierra
, and seemed shocked that it was not available.

Travis was happy to be done with his part of the reading. That way he got to listen to the other readers.

Ursula K. Le Guin transported the audience to another world with an excerpt from
The Tombs of Atuan
, and E. L. Konigsburg delighted everyone with a few pieces of
From the Mixed- Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler
. At last, Miss Babb introduced Laurence Yep, who read from his novel
Dragonwings
, about Chinese immigrants during the Great San Francisco Earthquake of 1906.

Yep read the passage where Moon Shadow experienced the earthquake, which bounced him out of bed at dawn. Travis looked around the audience and saw people everywhere looking up and around during the reading, clutching the arms of their seats. When Yep read, the building seemed to crack and twist, the floor to heave and buckle. The earthquake was happening all over again.

Travis’s only disappointment that night was that he hadn’t finished the story for Oster. He wanted to hand over the composition book after the reading, a present for Oster, but he wasn’Theven halfway through. The more he wrote, the more he remembered. Just the night before, he’d remembered how he found Oster’s phone number— right there in the phone book. This detail didn’t change the story, he knew, but it was important to the story, and he was glad he remembered it.

The whole gang went to Marianne’s for ice cream after the reading, where Miss Babb flat out asked Hil, Oster, and Travis if they had finished their stories yet. Each of them half mumbled that they were still working on them, and it was clear to Travis that they were. And that there was plenty of .time.

Two weeks after the reading, Travis’s dad’s band played a benefit gig for the Save Our Library committee at Listen and Be Heard, an artsy coffee house out by the junior college. His dad had rounded up the Not Band for the gig; they hadn’t played together in over a year, but every night for a week, they rehearsed in Travis’s living room and were starting to sound pretty good.

Listen and Be Heard was filled with goofy- looking college students that night. The whole gang was there, too. Travis loved seeing his dad’s old friends onstage again. They played the usual stuff , “old guy” music, they called it—Dylan and Neil Young and Joni Mitchell. And that night at Listen and Be Heard, they were hot. Ray Jim John punished his electric guitar, Cutlip Sam sang through the harmonica, Dave Tilton- Dave Tilton laid down the law on bass, and Big Gun Burge conga- drummed his way to heaven. Travis thought his dad’s voice was as good as it had ever been.

For the last song, his dad brought Travis to the tiny stage. They’d been practicing a new piece together— Travis was really getting the hang of rhythm guitar and thought he might take lessons soon. The song was a surprise for his mom, “Luz de Mi Vida” by Los Lobos. Travis and his dad kind of lost their way in the middle for a few bars, but found their way back to the groove by the end. It was way cool.

When Travis came off stage, he sat with Hil alone aThatable in the corner.

“You know, Big T,” Hil said. “You play guitar almost as good as I play soccer. I had no idea. That rocked. You should have seen your mom. She was trying real hard not to cry. I hope you write like you play.”

“You, too,” Travis said. “So, you done yet?”

“You must be joking, Señor Weasel. I don’t know about you, but the more I write, the more I write. It’s weird.”

“Tell me about it.”

They stared at each other, knew what each other was thinking.

“Okay,” Hil said. “As soon as I’m done, I’ll show you. Ernie, too.”

“Deal.” They shook one more Camazotz handshake.

After the gig, Travis and his dad counted up the money in the tip jar. A whopping $212.79.

“There’s got to be more,” his dad said. “I mean, that’s just not very much.”

“Dad,” Travis said. “That ’s not what matthers . It ’s not this one thing that’s gonna save the world. It’s this one small thing and that one small thing, and all the others. This small thing here, it’s part of something much bigger.”

His dad had to agree. with him.

On the first Tuesday in March, Measure V was passed by the voting citizens of Salinas, 67 percent in favor, 33 percent opposed, with a two- thirds majority required. Close but enough, and that was all that mattered. The city would increase its sales tax by one half of one penny, and the new money would be used to restore city services that had been cut. A large portion of the money, as written into the measure, would keep the library open.

The entire Save Our Library committee watched the election returns on TVs at the library. It wasn’t until almost midnight that victory was assured, and when the announcement was made, a great whooping broke out. Travis looked around for Miss Babb, but she was nowhere to be seen. He found her a while later in the kids’ section, curled up fast asleep in one of the old corduroy beanbag chairs.

The victory wasn’Thatotal one, of course. The library would stay open, but with a greatly reduced staff and with minimal hours. But it would stay open, and they— the city, the librarians, the citizens—would continue to work on behalf of the library and its books.

“what ever it takes, Travis,” Miss Babb said. “We’ll keep working. The fight’s. not over yet.”

Travis and Oster, and Hil, too, when he didn’t have soccer, continued to work on the committee. Travis and Oster both worked afternoons at the library as volunteer shelvers. Travis had never figured that putting books back in their proper places could be so much fun. He kept discovering books he never knew existed. He seemed to bring home as many as he shelved.

One afternoon, when they were both working in the kids’ section, Travis picked up the library’s only copy of
Corral de Tierra
.

“Look,” he said. “You’re popular again.”

Oster laughed, looked away. He seemed embarrassed, which Travis thought was weird.

Travis needed to say something; he did.

“Remember,” he said, “when we were up in the Corral, that day after. And we all promised to write down what we saw, everything.”

“Yes.” Oster kept shelving.

“So, have you been doing that?”

“Yes. Yes, I have.” Oster stopped shelving and pointed a book at him. “And you, have you been writing it all down?”

“I have. Tons. But I’m not quite finished yet.”

“Good. It’s supposed to take time. I’m glad you’re doing it, though.”

Travis still wasn’t finished with his version of what happened last fall, but he was close. He was dying to share it with Oster. Hil, Travis knew, was almost done, too.

“Remember,” Travis said, “when you were talking about
Steinbeck’s Ghost
, the book, your book, your
second
book, you said you’d got it wrong somehow. And Hil said you should finish that book, that he knew it’d be a better book this time.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“So? Are you working on that book, too? Are you gonna put the cave in that book? What happened to us?”

Oster grunted.

“So?” Travis asked.

Oster looked at him.

“Well,” he said. “I have been. Writing, that is,
Steinbeck’s Ghost
. I think I figured it out. What was wrong. I’ve been working on it a little bit. And yes, the cave’s gonna be in there. After I check it out with you and Hil, of course.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want to jinx it.”

“So how far—”

Oster put a finger to his lips.

“Don’t want to jinx it.”

That afternoon Travis and Oster said good- bye in the alley, and Oster drove off to Spreckels. Travis stood a long time in the alley, waiting for something. For what? It was too quiet out.

It was a sunny day, almost warm. The rains had been thick and constant all winter, and the world was lush, exploding. The plum and apple and cherry trees had blossomed all at once, and the rain knocked those petals from the trees. The flowers were as thick as snow on the ground. The mountains—the Gabilans and the Santa Lucias—were so green the world seemed like a whole other planet.

Travis got on his bike and pedaled hard out to Spreckels, the afternoon wind pushing him all the way there. He knew he’d be late for dinner, but his parents would come pick him up.

Oster came to the door.

“So. You’ve been writing,” Travis said. “I’d really like to hear some. Would you read me some? Some of
Steinbeck’s Ghost
?”

“I don’t know, Travis,” Oster said. “It’s kind of a private thing.”

“A private thing?” he said. “Are you kidding me? Private? No, it’s not. That’s crazy.”

There was a last silence.

“You’re right,” the writer said. “Come on in. I’ll read you what I’ve got so far.”

If you’re interested in reading Steinbeck, for the first time or the next, here are some of my favorites. Start at the top and work your way down. —L.B.

The Red Pony
(New York: Penguin, 1993).

A short novel about Jody’s pony, Gabilan, and Gitano, the old paisano. It’s also included in
The Long Valley
.

The Long Valley
(New York: Penguin, 2000).

All of Steinbeck’s best short stories, and all set in the Salinas Valley, including “Johnny Bear” and “The Red Pony.”

The Pastures of Heaven
(New York: Penguin, 1995).

A novel told in stories set in the Corral de Tierra. In here, you’ll find the tale of the talented outcast Tularecito.

Cup of Gold
(New York: Penguin, 1995).

Steinbeck’s first novel is a rousing pirate tale of adventure and treasure based on the myth of the Holy Grail.

The Pearl
(New York: Penguin, 2000).

In this short novel, the discovery of a giant pearl in a small Mexican town brings out the worst in everyone who sees it.

Of Mice and Men
(New York: Penguin, 2002).

Two itinerant ranch hands roam from job to job while working toward their dream of owning a farm someday. A heartbreaking tale of friendship and loyalty.

Tortilla Flat
(New York: Penguin, 1977).

The Knights of the Round Table come to life as cannery workers in Monterey. Heroism was never so funny.

Cannery Row
(New York: Penguin, 2002).

The “denizens” of Monterey’s Cannery Row don’t work too hard at much but having a good deal of fun. Includes Steinbeck’s famous “Frog Hunt” sequence, where a pond of crazy frogs proves too much for Mack and the boys, a slapstick favorite.

Sweet Thursday
(New York: Penguin, 1996).

This sequel to
Cannery Row
features an affectionate portrait of Steinbeck’s closest friend, Edward “Doc” Ricketts, and the further misadventures of the Row’s “denizens.”

The Log from the Sea of Cortez
(New York: Penguin, 1995).

A nonfiction account of Steinbeck’s research voyage to Baja California with Ed “Doc” Ricketts. Steinbeck’s love of nature, and his deep knowledge of it, glow from every page.

The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights
(New York: Viking, 2007).

In the 1950s, Steinbeck spent a year in En gland researching the myth of King Arthur and searching for the real Camelot. These stunning versions of the tales that inspired Steinbeck to become a writer are filled with magic and action.

The Grapes of Wrath, a Novel
(New York: Penguin, 2006).

Steinbeck’s most famous book is the courageous journey of the Joads from the Dust Bowl of Oklahoma to the fruit orchards of California. A great American novel.

East of Eden, a Novel
(New York: Penguin, 2003).

A sweeping epic of early California, this novel is one part stories from the Old Testament retold and a history of Steinbeck’s own ancestors.

About Steinbeck:

Catherine Reef,
John Steinbeck
(New York: Clarion, 2004).

A wonderful biography of the writer with lots of illustrations.