Cannery Row…

After my dear pal, lalunadiosa mentioned Cannery Row, I could barely resist posting the following lines. They’re so utterly evocative of Cannery Row and seem to encapsulate the entire book within themselves.
[P.S Besides, I can’t think of anything else to write about….:-(]

‘Cannery Row in Monterey in California is a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream. Cannery Row is the gathered and scattered, tin and iron and rust and splintered wood, chipped pavement and weedy lots and junk heaps, sardine canneries of corrugated iron, honky tonks, restaurants and whorehouses, and little crowded groceries, and laboratories and flophouses. *the best lines, I feel are…* Its inhabitants are, as the man once said, “whores, pimps, gamblers, and sons of bitches, by which he meant Everybody. Had the man looked through another peephole he might have said, “Saints and angels and martyrs and holy men,” and he would have meant the same thing.’

Amazing opening lines, among many that I’ve read!

Thanks to sat_chit_anand who reminded me of an old joke:
What do you call a ‘hangover’?
‘Wrath of Grapes’

Keeping with the topic of Steinbeck, of course….:-)