Does bad always follow good? Where does one cross the line between pursuing a dream and being consumed by greed? And how much influence can a small decision have in the world? The novella The Pearl by John Steinbeck explores the answers to these questions to their limits, slowly revealing a portrait of the world which is both terrifying and comforting at once. Through a twisting tale of loss, gain, greed, and – ultimately – death, a beacon of human hope and perseverance shines, making this one of the most memorable books I’ve ever read. The lives of Kino, an impoverished pearl fisherman, and his wife, Juana, are transformed forever when he discovers a perfect pearl, the “Pearl of the World.” Kino dreams of using the money it will make to improve his life in drastic ways; most importantly, sending his infant son, Coyotito, to school. However, he is unwilling to sell the pearl for any sum too small to accomplish his dreams, and the buyers are unwilling to buy it for any sum high enough to do so. The buyers have money and power to steal or kill in order to get the pearl. Kino only has his own strength, knife, and unbending will, and he little realizes how many people are all set on claiming his treasure for their own. Bit by bit, instead of symbolizing invigorating hope for the future, the pearl becomes a painful reminder of the humiliation of the past and the injustice of the present world. One thing that struck me when I was reading The Pearl was how small, everyday actions worked together to play a surprisingly significant part in the tragic resolution of the book. One might not think that things like a doctor’s refusal to treat a poverty-stricken patient with a scorpion bite, or a furious pearl fisherman’s diving deeper than usual to burn off his anger, would indirectly cause the death of a child. But, strangely, they do: independently, these actions are only foolish; together, they are fatal. This aspect of the plot lends an unsettling – almost ominous – feel to the story. The thought It’s only going to get worse was ubiquitous in my mind as I read, and even as I could not put down the book, I didn’t want to read another page. One of the joys of reading is watching someone else’s story unfold in front of you, sympathizing with their losses and triumphs. But, aside from the discovery of the pearl, Kino and his family did not have any triumphs. As I read, their lives went from contented to unhappy to terrified to remorseful and grieved. At the resolution, there was a sense of helplessness and disappointment, of pure human weakness against the forces of ill luck and nature. One of the reasons I love to read is that it uplifts me. Watching good win over evil again and again, in scenario after scenario, inspires me. But what about when good doesn’t win over evil? What about when a sad ending is not diluted by even one small triumph? Does that mean the point of reading the book is lost? On reading the resolution of this novella – and the parts which led up to it – a second time, I think I have an answer. The utter despondency of The Pearl’s plot tends to overpower another element: an underlying thread of hope and shared goals which binds Kino’s family together. Whenever they receive a particularly heavy blow, they are able to rebound because – according to the narrator – Juana, Kino and Coyotito are “one thing and one purpose.” The family has suffered the same hardships and rejoiced at the same successes, and they are all working, together, toward the accomplishment of one ambition: a better life, as much for each other as for themselves. Only when Kino begins to push Juana aside does their life really begin to go downhill. In one scene, rather than give up the pearl or even hear Juana’s opinion, Kino shoves Juana down onto the boulders near the sea. He walks away, holding the pearl which she had advised him to destroy, and is attacked by thieves and almost killed. Eventually, when they flee from the village, Juana walks behind Kino. She is following him because she cares about him, and knows that she cannot change his mind; but she also knows that they are no longer working together toward the same goal, that they are no longer “one thing and one purpose.” When Kino and Juana come back to their tiny hut at the ending, they walk side by side instead of one behind the other: equal again – perhaps more equal than before – and sharing one last bitter loss. Their quiet acceptance of defeat as they walk into the village, heads down, seems like the most incredibly sad ending possible. But when one dries one’s tears and more closely examines the image, a second thing, showing itself even in the way they walk, comes to light: equality and love have been restored between Kino and Juana. Even more importantly, they have learned the importance of what they had lost and have now regained – and how much it can positively influence their lives. In a way, good has won over evil: the anger and greed which had torn their family apart is gone, and though the couple has lost much, they are rich in the things which matter most. The Pearl by John Steinbeck. Penguin Random House, 1947. Buy the book here and support Stone Soup in the process! Have you read this book? Or do you plan on reading it? Let us know in the comments below!
Stone Soup Magazine for young readers, writers, and artists
Nature Video: Hummingbirds
In this video, I tell some facts about Anna’s Hummingbirds. Some facts are very surprising! Hummingbirds are amazing animals, and I hope more people will appreciate them. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGdbdSFleqs
Saturday Newsletter: December 29, 2018
Casping shivered as the cold winter wind blew open the curtains Illustration by Anton Dymtchenko, 13 for “Secrets in the Forest” by Eleyna Rosenthal, 13, published in Stone Soup, November/December 2006. A note from Jane Levi I am writing this newsletter—the last of 2018—sitting by a roaring fire in the English countryside with my friend’s dog on one side and a large mug of tea on the other. Bliss! I love the days between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, when almost everyone is still on holiday, I have a pile of new books to read—if I’ve been lucky with my presents—and I can alternate between long walks, cosy fires, and another delicious snack. I hope all of you have your own version of holiday happiness, whichever holidays you celebrate, and that you are experiencing it as another new year approaches. As well as looking forward to 2019 and making plans for all the new projects we’ll be tackling and work we’ll be publishing next year, the holidays have been a time to reflect on what we accomplished in 2018. It’s quite extraordinary to be able to pile all the magazine issues and books up on the table and see just how many incredible pieces of art, poetry, stories, reviews, and blog posts you all made last year. Congratulations to all of our amazing contributors. Stone Soup would not exist without you, and we are constantly in awe of your creativity and hard work. Thank you! Last February we published one of my favorite stories of the year: an alternative fairy tale, called “The Waterfall,” by 12-year-old Natalie Warnke. In that story, the fairy-tale princess makes it clear that being a princess isn’t necessarily all it’s cracked up to be. For this week’s newsletter, I’ve chosen another kind of fantasy story about a princess: a classic princess-in-trouble-and-in-need-of-rescue (albeit by a rescuer with a twist!). I enjoyed rereading both stories and thinking about the different ways each one approached the genre. It was a useful reminder that there is always a new way to tell an old kind of story. I also love the illustration that goes with this week’s story, and the way it uses almost every trope of fairy-tale fantasy. It was a strong contender for the cover of our new edition of The Stone Soup Book of Fantasy Stories. Besides being a glorious snow scene, it has a perfectly turreted castle, a magical old-fashioned horse-drawn coach, and a princess with streaming golden hair. Even the feathered hat and moustache of the carriage driver give it a fantastical air! Perhaps some of you will take inspiration from the drawing or the stories and remake an old story in a new guise. If you do, please send it to Emma via our Submittable link so we can consider it for publication. And, whatever you do to bring in the new year, we wish you all a happy and merry one—and we cannot wait to see what you create in 2019! Happy new year! This week on the blog Don’t miss Maya V’s thoughtful piece on The Pittsburgh Synagogue, reflecting on how different people respond differently to terrible events. Year-end donations Thank you so much to all of you who have answered our call for donations over the last few weeks–and through the year. We are truly grateful and thrilled to feel the strength of support for our work. Click here if you didn’t receive the donor drive letter, or would like to read its message again. More free subscriptions given away in our 45th birthday promotion Congratulations to our latest winners! Stone Soup is 45 years old this year. We are celebrating that milestone by offering free subscriptions and prizes as we strive to win 1,000 new subscribers before the end of the year. Every 45th subscriber receives a free subscription—more than twenty have already been awarded. The 450th subscriber has been sent their parcel of books, and their free subscription has been awarded. The 900th will shortly be on its way! The 1,000th subscriber (we are so nearly there) will receive a free subscription, plus all 10 books, plus a free site license for the institution (school or public library) of their choice. It’s easy to subscribe: visit this page. This particular promotion will continue until we meet our target or get to the end of the year, whichever comes first. Please share this with everyone you think would benefit from joining the readership of Stone Soup. And don’t forget, you (and anyone you share the code with) can get a 10% discount on your annual subscription using the code CHEER2018 on our subscription form. Published in Stone Soup, November/December 2006, and in the Stone Soup Book of Fantasy Stories Secrets in the Forest By Eleyna Rosenthal, 13 Illustrated by Anton Dymtchenko, 13 Casping peered out of the curtains hiding her in the carriage speeding down a gravel road. A guard on the seat beside her grunted and reached over to pull her back inside. With a sigh of grief and understanding, Casping sat back against the silk-covered seat. She hung her head and let the burning sensation behind her eyes ascend. She let her soft blond hair cover her pale, angelic face as she wept. The carriage took a sharp turn, stopping her in the middle of a sob. She quickly reminded herself this was all for the best. She needed to stay hidden, and stay safe. Death was not an option; she needed to survive long enough to rule her parents’ kingdom. If she did not hide, then surely her family’s enemy, the powerful Rasha, would find and kill her. Casping knew she must accept her fate. Besides, her family must really love her to go to these measures of safety. Casping shivered as the cold winter wind blew open the curtains. She caught a glimpse of frost-covered trees and bushes and wondered what it would be like living in the middle of a deserted forest. At least she would have a cabin to live
