How we cite our quotes: (Part.Chapter.Paragraph)
Quote #1
The morning came, a bright one with the tawny look of autumn in the sunlight. My wife and I parted very quickly, since both of us hate good-bys, and neither of us wanted to be left when the other had gone. (2.1.3)
Even though Steinbeck signed up for this solitary (except for Charley) adventure, he sure doesn't seem to be excited about going out alone.
Quote #2
She gunned her motor and exploded away for New York and I, with Charley beside me, drove Rocinante to the Shelter Island Ferry, and then to a second ferry to Greenport and a third from Orient Point to the coast of Connecticut, across Long Island Sound, for I wanted to avoid New York traffic and get well on my way. And I confess to a feeling of gray desolation. (2.1.3)
It didn't take long for Steinbeck to start feeling kind of sad and lonely, it seems. Even though he doesn't specifically use those words, what else could it be, since he admitted parting from his wife was difficult?
Quote #3
We drove on in the autumn afternoon, heading north. Because I was self-contained, I thought it might be nice if I could invite people I met along the way to my home for a drink, but I had neglected to lay in liquor. (2.1.33)
To help offset some of the natural isolation of his project, Steinbeck quickly outfits Rocinante with a full liquor bar to help attract visitors. Because nothing says fun like going into a stranger's car to consume alcohol.
Quote #4
Even the cabin was dismal and damp. I turned the gas mantle high, lit the kerosene lamp, and lighted two burners of my stove to drive the loneliness away. The rain drummed on the metal roof. (2.3.2)
The day Steinbeck drove through Maine in the rain seemed to be particularly lonely and depressing for him. By the end, it seems like he was feeling thoroughly down and isolated, as his thoughts here can attest.
Quote #5
On the long journey doubts were often my companions. (2.3.61)
Hmm, now that does sound lonely—having only your thoughts as company is one thing, but having only your doubts sounds a lot worse.
Quote #6
After the comfort and company of Chicago I had had to learn to be alone again. It takes a little time. But there on the Maple River, not far from Alice, the gift of it was coming back. (3.3.12)
Oh, okay, so here we're getting some nice comments about solitude. Even though most of the time he's lonely, he obviously sees a purpose and a comfort in isolation, too—at least, at certain times and in certain doses.
Quote #7
And I made some notes on a sheet of yellow paper on the nature and quality of being alone. These notes would in the normal course of events have been lost as notes are always lost, but these particular notes turned up long afterward wrapped around a bottle of ketchup and secured with a rubber band. The first note says: "Relationship of Time to Aloneness." And I remember about that. Having a companion fixes you in time and that the present, but when the quality of aloneness settles down, past, present, and future all flow together. A memory, a present event, and a forecast all equally present. (3.3.12)
Here we get more musings on isolation and how it can affect someone. Apparently, in Steinbeck's view, isolation makes past, present, and future all appear to be equally present, whereas having someone around forces you just to live in the here and now.
Quote #8
A number of years ago I had some experience with being alone. For two succeeding years I was alone each winter for eight months at a stretch in the Sierra Nevada mountains on Lake Tahoe. I was a caretaker on a summer estate during the winter months when it was snowed in. And I made some observations then. As the time went on I found that my reactions thickened. Ordinarily I am a whistler. I stopped whistling. I stopped conversing with my dogs, and I believe that subtleties of feeling began to disappear until finally I was on a pleasure-pain basis. Then it occurred to me that the delicate shades of feeling, of reaction, are the result of communication, and without such communication they tend to disappear. A man with nothing to say has no words.
Of course, Steinbeck always comes back to the dangers of being too isolated. Here, he suggests that if you get too accustomed to not being around people, you lose language—and the "shades of feeling" that come as a result of communicating. So, you not only lose words, but you also lose the emotions that they express. We guess it's all an illustration of that old saying "use it or lose it."
Quote #9
A little farther along I stopped at a small house, a section of war-surplus barracks, it looked, but painted white with yellow trim, and with the dying vestiges of a garden, frosted-down geraniums and a few clusters of chrysanthemums, little button things yellow and red-brown. I walked up the path with the certainty that I was being regarded from behind the white window curtains. An old woman answered my knock and gave me the drink of water I asked for and nearly talked my arm off. She was hungry to talk, frantic to talk, about her relatives, her friends, and how she wasn't used to this. For she was not a native and she didn't rightly belong here. (3.4.21)
Steinbeck encounters a woman who apparently has become so isolated that she appears to feel unsafe even in her own home. She is basically begging Steinbeck to stay and hang out with her.
Quote #10
Everything was convenient, centrally located, and lonesome. I lived in the utmost luxury. Other guests came and went silently. If one confronted them with "Good evening," they looked a little confused and then responded, "Good evening." It seemed to me that they looked at me for a place to insert a coin. (3.7.120)
Steinbeck laments the impersonal hotel/motel culture in the West, where the "do it yourself" attitude means you can toast your own bread and basically make your own breakfast without having to ever interact with anyone. And so, when you actually try to interact with someone, they look at you like you're cray-cray. Steinbeck is not a fan.