East of Eden

Part 4 begins with the narrator’s metacognitive confirmation that this story, like all stories, is about the essential human conflict of good versus evil. The narrator provides an objective outlook by reflecting on storytelling while telling a story. Furthermore, the narrator’s assertion that this conflict of good and evil is generational is crucial to the novel’s secondary theme: progress. The early 20th century saw enormous changes in the US and the whole world. Technology progressed rapidly, moral codes shifted, and the coming of World War I flipped violence into a monstrosity that no one could have imagined. While progress is good, this novel explores how evil changes shape as the world evolves. The narrator foreshadows how evil in the last portion of the novel will have a different face than the previous evil. Evil may no longer look like Cathy, who is growing older and is less influential, but this doesn’t mean that evil goes away. This serves as a warning. Steinbeck invites examination of one’s own environment and own time to look for the changing signs of evil. Although Steinbeck wouldn’t have known it while drafting this novel, this is precisely the reason that East of Eden has remained an American classic for so many decades. This is not just a story about the Trasks or about California in the 1900s. It’s a story about us all.

A major character in this classic is Lee. Although he’s a secondary character because he’s not a Trask, Lee is the story’s moral epicenter. He gives the story much of its rationality, philosophy, and genuine love. He provides comfort that troubled characters rely on and challenges them to strive to be better versions of themselves. Lee tries to go off on his own adventure and accomplish his dreams, but his rapid return to the Trasks proves that he can’t be written out of the story. Lee is the glue that holds the Trasks together. The Trasks have always needed him, but their move from King City to Salinas requires his presence more than ever. Although Salinas is big, it’s narratively inevitable that one or both boys learn about Cathy (Kate). Adam’s moving his family to the same city where his estranged and evil wife lives is evidence that Adam, while good, lacks certain savvy smarts, a flaw that threatens to destroy his family’s foundation.

Aron’s flaws are much like Adam’s. Like Adam, Aron has little versatility. Although Aron is beloved like Adam, Steinbeck uses Adam’s poor adult judgment and Aron’s naivete to question the value of pure goodness—especially if being too good makes one foolish. Aron may be good, but he doesn’t have Cal’s realistic grasp of the world. Therefore, he doesn’t have appropriate outlets when his resentment builds. Instead of acknowledging them, he turns to religion to find a way out of Salinas and away from the depravity he believes is all around him. Cal watches Aron vanquish sins he’d “never committed,” which the narrative treats almost derisively. Because of his innocence, Aron creates problems where none exist. Cal, while capable of cruelty, is much more able to live productively in the world and engage with conflict in a healthy manner.

Part 4 establishes Cal and Aron as the novel’s new central characters. Although Adam’s influence on the plot remains important, Cal drives the story further. Cal is a victim of circumstance. A motherless, mostly fatherless boy living in the shadow of his sparkling twin brother, Cal struggles to find peace with himself. The darkness that follows him pushes people away, but their judgment doesn’t allow them to see what a good, action-oriented person Cal is. He’s intelligent and is a natural leader. While Aron may be adored, Cal is reliable and can function in the real world. It’s Cal who finds out about Cathy and bears the burden of the truth about their mother. Cal and Adam finally have an honest conversation in which Adam takes responsibility for not nurturing Cal enough. This opens a new chapter in their relationship, one that Cal has been craving his entire life. Buoyed by his father’s confidence, Cal resolves to be better in life—but is still sneaky and in control. Adam’s conversation with Cal about Aron is like Cyrus’s conversation with Adam about Charles when Adam was around the same age as Cal. Here is yet another cycle in the Trask family saga: Rather than be collectively honest, family members keep intimate secrets to protect one another.

As Cal matures and discovers his brother’s flaws, Lee further confirms Cal’s worth. Lee characterizes Adam as the extreme opposite of Cathy—but to a fault. Taking advantage of Adam is all too easy—and Cathy preyed upon his weakness. Aron too is easy to manipulate. Lee ensures that Cal choose timshel—that he doesn’t give in to the idea that he’s like his mother just because he’s the opposite of Aron. Cal has a triumphant moment when Cathy confronts him, and he reveals that he’s her son. He rejects her evil—the first time Cal gets to be the rejector and not the rejected. He asserts himself, self-actualizes his goodness, and refuses to succumb to the biology of his evil mother.

The power dynamics in the dichotomy between Aron and Cal begin to flip in these chapters, just as the power dynamic between Adam and Charles reversed itself when Charles proved himself the responsible brother. Aron wins the girl—Abra. Abra loves Aron no matter what, but his desire to go into the ministry and be celibate challenges their relationship. Abra wants a life with Aron: children, home, family, and security. Because of Aron’s ineptitudes, however, he—just like his father—may be unable to provide the security that Abra craves. Abra’s personality has many layers, and her strong sense of self seems at odds with Aron’s lower-decibel persona. Just as Cathy and Charles were a better match for each other, the narrative implies that Abra has chosen the wrong brother. If Abra is falling in love with Aron because of his looks, then she’s following a love that is superficial.

At odds with timshel is man’s desire to see what he wants to see in the world. Aron chooses to internalize the shame of Adam’s business failure and becomes obsessed with the church as a way out of what he views as a societal issue. Juxtaposing this approach, Cal accepts the world for what it is—good, bad, beautiful, and ugly. Cal may have suffered more than Aron in his quest for love and acceptance, but this very struggle makes Cal better equipped to take on the world and to practice timshel. This too is a cycle that stays alive in the Trask family. Charles was more level-headed than Adam about Cyrus. Whereas Adam always refused to believe that his father was a liar, Charles not only accepted Cyrus for who he was but loved him too. Aron repeats Adam’s mistake. Instead of loving the imperfect father who loves him, Aron resents his father for his failures. However, Cal, aware that flawed people deserve love too, loves Adam for all that he is and isn’t. Whereas Aron and Adam project what they want onto others, characters like Cal, Charles, and Cathy see people for who they truly are. Unlike his mother, however, Cal not only sees but appreciates people for who they are. If Aron didn’t exist, Cal might have had a happier life growing up—but without Aron, Cal wouldn’t be such a self-respecting, strong, reliable young man. Thus, Steinbeck proves that juxtaposition can enhance characters, not hold them back.