The Grapes of Wrath. Featuring new 2021 illustrations
John Steinbeck

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Kitob haqida Taassurotlar3 Iqtiboslar105 Oʻqiyapti320 Javonlarda

John Ernst Steinbeck Jr. has been called «a giant of American letters”.His magnum opus The Grapes of Wrath, which epitomises the harrowing events of the Clutch Plague era, stirred widespread sympathy for the plight of migrant workers.Many of Steinbeck's works are set in the Salinas Valley of his childhood and they frequently explore themes of fate and the injustices suffered by their everyman protagonists. Featuring new original Illustrations by D. Fisher.

Fiction

Yosh cheklovlari: 16+

Huquq egasi: ООО "Мультимедийное издательство Стрельбицкого"

Nashr sanasi: 2022

nashriyot: Strelbytskyy Multimedia Publishing

rassom: Fisher

Qogʻoz sahifalar: 287

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Oʻqib boʻldingizmi? Fikringiz qanday?

👍👎

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Сергей С.taassurotlarni ulashish2 oy oldin

👍Tavsiya etaman

Great

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Татьяна Сtaassurotlarni ulashish2 oy oldin

👍Tavsiya etaman

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Камилла Хайитоваtaassurotlarni ulashish2 yil oldin

👍Tavsiya etaman

🔮Dono

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Iqtiboslar105

Диана Андрееваiqtibos olmoqda2 yil oldin

Casy said, “I been walkin’ aroun’ in the country. Ever’body’s askin’ that. What we comin’ to? Seems to me we don’t never come to nothin’. Always on the way. Always goin’ and goin’. Why don’t folks think about that? They’s movement now. People moving. We know why, an’ we know how. Movin’ ‘cause they got to. That’s why folks always move. Movin’ ‘cause they want somepin better’n what they got. An’ that’s the on’y way they’ll ever git it. Wantin’ it an’ needin’ it, they’ll go out an’ git it. It’s bein’ hurt that makes folks mad to fightin’. I been walkin’ aroun’ the country, an’ hearin’ folks talk like you

1 kishiga yoqdi

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Диана Андрееваiqtibos olmoqda2 yil oldin

How can we live without our lives? How will we know it’s us without our past? No. Leave it. Burn it

1 kishiga yoqdi

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Xiqtibos olmoqda3 kun oldin

grows. We’ll start over. But you can’t start. Only a baby can start. You and me — why, we’re all that’s been. The anger of a moment, the thousand pictures, that’s us. This land, this red land, is us; and the flood years and the dust years and the drought years are us. We can’t start again. The bitterness we sold to the junk man — he got it all right, but we have it still. And when the owner men told us to go, that’s us; and when the tractor hit the house, that’s us until we’re dead. To California or any place — every one a drum major leading a parade of hurts, marching with our bitterness. And some day — the armies of bitterness will all be going the same way. And they’ll all walk together, and there’ll be a dead terror from it.

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