Yosemite & Disneyland? Sure. But you haven’t seen the real California until you’ve visited these places.
It is always a challenge to commemorate a life, never mind a writer’s life. Unlike museums devoted to sports legends or war heroes, a museum that honors a man of arts and letters must reflect his quiet, solitary pursuit. Which is to say that such a repository may be unbearably dull. How delightful, then, is the National Steinbeck Center at the end of Salinas’ Main Street, a place whose undercurrents deliver shock after tiny shock — here an arc of unknown history, there a jolt of social commentary. The museum is just a couple of blocks from where townspeople burned Steinbeck’s books, enraged at his perceived betrayal of them and agriculture, the economic star then and now ($3.5 billion worth of crops in 2006) of Monterey County’s show. Never mind that he was a hometown boy — you can see his Victorian birthplace just up the street from the museum and have lunch there — he was Judas to the growers and landowners portrayed unsympathetically in "Grapes of Wrath" and "East of Eden." The modern-looking center may seem incongruous with the unpretentious persona of the author, whose work won Pulitzer and Nobel prizes. But like his books, it shines a light on the issues, using film clips and displays that are muted set pieces, occasionally somber but never dull. To see this place and the fields that surround Salinas is to understand that Steinbeck’s so-called Valley of the World is really the Heart of California.
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