The Four Winds
By Kristin Hannah
Her hazel eyes seemed to have experienced all possible tragedy and to have mounted pain and suffering like steps into a high calm and a super human understanding. She seemed to know, to accept, to welcome her position, the citadel of the family, the strong place that could not be taken. And since old Tom and the children could not know hurt or fear unless she acknowledged hurt and fear, she had practiced denying them in her self. And since, when a joyful thing happened they looked to see whether joy was on her, it was her habit to build up laughter out of inadequate materials. But better than joy was calm. Imperturbability could be depended upon. And from her great and humble position in the family she had taken dignity and clear calm beauty. From her position as healer, her hands had grown sure and cool and quiet; from her position as arbiter she had become as remote and faultless in judgment as a goddess. She seemed to know that if she swayed the family shook , and if she ever really deeply wavered or despaired the family would fall, the family will to function would be gone.
I selected this quote, not from The Four Winds, but from the classic literary ode to the dustbowl, John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath. Because when I read the story summary for The Four Winds, my first thought was, ‘wow, pretty audacious for a writer to take on a subject already portrayed by one of the most revered writers in American literary history.’
Then I tried to remember reading The Grapes of Wrath, and realized that for me it had to have been either a quick breeze through the story, or a Cliff Notes read for a paper I had to write in high school. I hadn’t really read The Grapes of Wrath.
So, first I read Hannah’s book. I have enjoyed reading Kristin Hannah’s work, and even use one of her books for the first Deeper Reading Video I posted here on the site. I embraced Hannah’s version of this story as an important “rewriting” of history. We are seeing many women rewrite stories, from fairy tales (think Everafter) to classics. Stories are being told from the woman’s perspective. Yay and well done, was my inclination.
But then I read The Grapes of Wrath. And I was disturbed. Not because Hannah chose to tell the same story. But because Steinbeck told the story with such deep, beautiful, and rich prose that I was saddened that these types of books aren’t published at all anymore. As a writer, attending many workshops about how to write a novel, I am repeatedly told to keep the story moving. That people don’t have patience for a lot of expository description. That you won’t get a book published unless it has the pace of a Dan Brown novel.
I was saddened when I went into Amazon and read the reviews of Hannah’s book, that for most, it appeared to be the first time readers had learned about the depression-era dust-bowl. I was saddened that for many, Hannah’s book might be the only version of the story people will ever read.
Perhaps that ages me. I know that the way we tell stories is changing, and the pace of the internet is actually rewiring the brains of new generations. But I am sad about what we are flying right past in our haste to get to the end. I savored many passages in Steinbeck’s version, and I realized I did have to slow down my reading. I had to sit with many of his descriptions and expositions, not only about the characters, but also about the culture and conditions, the forces of humanity which brought them to their knees. I had to grapple with the emotions evoked in me, not just by the events of the plot, but by the background which illuminated so much about suffering which is inexplicable and at the same time enraging. I also slowed down to watch the tender touch Steinbeck brought to his characters, the dignity in their relationships, the human struggle to maintain a shred of self-respect in the face of unbearable inequity.
So, for this review, while I enjoyed both books, I chose my quote from The Grapes of Wrath. To show how Steinbeck tenderly and poignantly captured the woman’s perspective of this story. How he illuminated the perspective of each character, man, woman and child. How he didn’t just tell me a story, but he drew me into his own deep sadness about this experience, a deep sense of injustice, a deep rage for the ravages of fear and power and greed. I enjoyed Hannah’s version. But I was shaken to the core by Steinbeck’s.