Book Review: Winter of Our Discontent (John Steinbeck) "Winners and Loser in the Game of Life"

by Zach M.

In 1934, in the midst of the Great Depression, an unemployed Charles B. Darrow developed the board game Monopoly. Upon release, the game was an instant hit. In the interim, Monopoly became an American Icon –according to Hasbro, the owner of the rights to the game, it is the “best-selling board game in the world” and a “phenomenal pastime.” Born during a period of economic strife, Monopoly has lured generations with its promise of riches, however imaginary. With prudent management of assets, aggressive competition with fellow players, and, above all, luck, anyone may be elevated to the status of the beloved Mr. Moneybags. Other players are overcome as a consequence of victory—game theorists call this zero-sum; all players have consented to the risk in the pursuit of said victory. Still, what are the consequences of a zero-sum worldview? In The Winter of Our Discontent, John Steinbeck meditates on winners and losers, the interplay between both in the “game” of life, and, ultimately, the lengths to which some men are willing to go to ensure that they find themselves standing proudly on the winners stand, along with the repercussions of those actions.

The Winter of Our Discontent opens during Easter weekend, with the Hawley family. Throughout history, the name Hawley was associated with prestige and wealth in New Baytown, New York, but after Ethan Allen Hawley’s misfortunes and those of his father it is the name only of the town grocery clerk. However, between Easter and the Fourth of July, various influences—most of all luck, some lecturing, and some scheming against others—contrive to transform Ethan from a societal “loser” into a “winner.” Mr. Baker, the banker, convinces Ethan to use Mary Hawley’s money to reclaim the Hawley’s former position in society. Ethan first gives $1,000 to his childhood friend-turned drunkard Danny Taylor, in the hopes that Mr. Taylor might seek treatment. Alas, Danny uses the money to drink himself to death. This introduces the first moral quandary: Ethan gains Taylor Meadow, a significant and profitable asset because it is the only land in New Baytown suitable for an airfield; his loan to Danny killed him. Still, Mr. Baker also pursued Danny’s land, and in a less upright manner, lending justification to Ethan’s actions. In a separate subplot, Ethan, through a casual conversation with his friend Joey Morphy—a bank teller, discovers that his boss Marullo is likely an illegal immigrant. Ethan turns Marullo into the authorities while gaining the grocery store via Marullo’s request. Ethan turned in Marullo at the same time Marullo was beginning to appreciate Ethan’s inherent honesty, decency, and integrity. These events meld to deliver Ethan newfound wealth and respect. Only in the end is he forced to meditate on the ruin of others that has accompanied his success. With this realization, he becomes overcome by grief and anger at the ways of the world and nearly commits suicide. However, he resists in the hope of a better tomorrow. He says “I had to get back…else another light night go out” (279).

The relevance and humanity of The Winter of Our Discontent finds its roots in its characters. Every character possesses diverse and often contradictory traits. The protagonist, Ethan Allen Hawley, transforms from Christ to a revolutionary; through it all he retains a certain darkness. He is discontented with every aspect of his life: his job, his boss, and the fact that his family is discontented with their position in society. His desire to see good in the world—the following conversation between Ethan and Marullo epitomizes this side of Ethan:

“Meat, now—you paying too much.”

“Well, we advertise Grade A beef.”

“A, B, C—who knows? It’s on the card, ain’t it? Now, we going to have a nice talk. We got dead wood on our bills. Anybody don’t pay by the fifteenth—off the books.”

“We can’t do that. Some of these people have been trading here for twenty years.”

“Listen, kid. Chain stores won’t let John D. Rockefeller charge a nickel!” (21)

--becomes overshadowed by his aggression against his neighbors. Despite this, he maintains his melancholy, indicating that at his core, Ethan is still a moral man, he is simply caught up temporarily in the improbability of his luck much like a gambler on a winning streak. The influence of Ethan’s family cannot be overstated. His children yearn for material comforts. In the beginning, both children act similarly; they make a plan to write “I Love America” essays in pursuit of a prize. “’It’s the grapes,’ said Allen. ‘How about going to Washington, hotel, shows, meet the President, the works. How’s that for the grapes?’” (30). There is no sincerity in their desires. Mary, Ethan’s wife, also yearns for money and the status that accompanies it. In an argument with Ethan, she says “In this town or any other town a Hawley grocery clerk is still a grocery clerk” (34). Thus, she desperately searches for any evidence of her family’s rising social status. She eagerly accepts as truth the fortune her friend Margie Young-Hunt—an aging divorcee who seeks the company of men—delivers, which predicts that Ethan will discover wealth and fame in the town; she is ecstatic when the prophecy is fulfilled. Allen follows Ethan’s model by plagiarizing his “I Love America” essay. When Ethan confronts his son about the cheating, Allen says “Don’t you read the papers? Everybody right up to the top—just read the papers. You get to feeling holy, just read the papers. I bet you took some in your time, because they all do. I’m not going to take the rap for everybody” (276). Thus, Allen plays a critical role: he causes Ethan to fully realize the negative effects of his actions. Yet, if it is Allen who drives Ethan to “the place” in the harbor, a deathbed of sorts, it is Ellen who is his savior. Ethan, on the verge of suicide, draws a talisman from his pocket that Ellen and he marvel over for its seemingly magical qualities. This heirloom reminds Ethan of his duty to kindle the light of hope he sees still burning in Ellen.

Ethan’s public relationships are likewise critical. Indeed, these exchanges are at once the most coincidental and precipitating events in the novel. A casual exchange with Joey Morphy about Marullo plants the seed for Ethan to defeat Marullo. Margie Young-Hunt and Mr. Baker also drive Ethan’s desire for material success. Of course, there are also Ethan’s victims. Danny, Ethan’s childhood friend, comes from a family of former prestige, like Ethan. However, in adulthood, Danny lived in a drunken trance. Danny was a disappointment who died a disappointing death. Still, Ethan’s guilty conscience regarding Danny haunts him. There is also Marullo, Ethan’s overbearing boss and a shrewd businessman. He views himself as a mentor for Ethan and gradually grows fond of Ethan and his honesty (Ethan refuses a bribe to deal with a vendor). Marullo becomes so enchanted with Ethan that he offers him a joint partnership in the store. Only after Marullo is forced from the country does Ethan discover that Marullo was a good man distorted by American values.

“Before he came over he knew the words on the bottom of the Statue of Liberty. He’d memorized the Declaration of Independence in dialect. The bill of Rights was words of fire. And then he couldn’t get in. So he came anyway…It was quite a while before he understood the American way, but he learned—he learned. ‘A guy got to make a buck! Look out for number one!’ But he learned” (227).
In The Winter of Our Discontent, ideals are left behind, lines are blurred, and morality becomes ambiguous.

Time and setting are manipulated to make a symbolic statement about the action. The action is split into two parts, the first of which takes place over Easter weekend and the second of which proceeds during the Fourth of July. These two parts each address specific areas of Ethan’s societal transformation. Easter weekend, beginning with Good Friday, represents Ethan’s death and resurrection. Indeed, Good Friday places Ethan in a terrible mood, sorrowful about the crucifixion. “Good Friday has always troubled me. Even as a child I was deep taken with sorrow, not at the agony of the crucifixion, but feeling the blighting loneliness of the Crucified” (36). But with Easter and Christ’s resurrection comes the gentle beginnings of Ethan’s resurrection. It is on Easter Sunday that he meets with Mr. Baker to discuss investments—the investments that conform later make Ethan financially independent. Suddenly it is the Fourth of July and Ethan discovers his financial independence. Marullo offers him partnership of the store and loans him a car for the weekend. In addition, it is over the Fourth that Allen wins the essay contest, albeit fraudulently, making for a weekend of intense celebration. Ethan is a success, though he rapidly realizes the by-products of his success.

Diction and text structure are also important for crafting statements about society and establishing character. The first two chapters of each part are written in third person; the rest is written from Ethan’s point of view. These third person introductions charter The Winter of Our Discontent with a broad goal of critiquing society at large. On an individual scale, the juxtaposition of dialogue and internal thought that are wildly different in tone develops Ethan’s complex personality, making him a relevant and convincing character. While he speaks playfully to his wife, affectionately calling her “chicken-flower,” “darling,” and “ladybug,” his internal mind is shrouded in darkness, highlighting his disgust at both his actions and the forces that drew him to them. In the end, subtle arrangements in the text structure of The Winter of Our Discontent deliver a profound statement.

From its publication, Steinbeck’s The Winter of Our Discontent has been received with mixed review. While it won the 1962 Nobel Prize in Literature, Arthur Mizener wrote a critical response in The New York Times begging the question “Does a Moral Vision of the Thirties Deserve a Nobel Prize?” (vii). This was a slight improvement to the initial New York Times review by Carlos Baker which concluded that “This is a problem novel whose central problem is never fully solved…For this reason, despite its obvious powers, The Winter of Our Discontent cannot rightly stand in the forefront of Steinbeck’s fiction” (viii). Perhaps the lukewarm, or at least confused, response to The Winter of Our Discontent is a result of its uncomfortable message. It serves as a mirror into which modern America might look and examine its unflattering face, count its crow’s feet, and search for grey hairs. It recognizes that everyone commits and justifies acts that are, at the very least, morally ambiguous; perhaps this unabashedly honest recognition is the cause for its unpopularity. But the novel’s most frustrating and—in the age of Sarah Palin, who rose from sports reporter to political force by chance—its most relevant theme is that planning is often inconsequential in life. Just as in that quintessential game of Monopoly, sometimes the only thing separating winners and losers in life is a roll of the dice.