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grandpamary 's review for:
The Red Pony
by John Steinbeck
I read this in the fifth grade, this was seven years ago, so this review should be read with that in mind.
I had been placed into an advanced reading class with a teacher who looked like a catfish and smelled like death, in a classroom the size of a closet with very little ventilation. Just put yourself at our oval table, and then imagine yourself reading The Red Pony, and you will hopefully understand why I refused to read--or complained without end about reading--anything that John Steinbeck has ever written.
I hated the never ending descriptions and the insanely extensive details and pretty much everything about this book. In part because I was in fifth grade, part because it's the Red Pony, and partially because of that godforsaken class I was in.
So I got myself kicked out of the class, buried the book behind all the other books on my bookshelf, and never thought about John Steinbeck again until The Pearl four years later.
Since then, I have gained a certain appreciation for never ending descriptions and loads of details, and so I look upon John Steinbeck (but not The Red Pony) quite differently now.
I had been placed into an advanced reading class with a teacher who looked like a catfish and smelled like death, in a classroom the size of a closet with very little ventilation. Just put yourself at our oval table, and then imagine yourself reading The Red Pony, and you will hopefully understand why I refused to read--or complained without end about reading--anything that John Steinbeck has ever written.
I hated the never ending descriptions and the insanely extensive details and pretty much everything about this book. In part because I was in fifth grade, part because it's the Red Pony, and partially because of that godforsaken class I was in.
So I got myself kicked out of the class, buried the book behind all the other books on my bookshelf, and never thought about John Steinbeck again until The Pearl four years later.
Since then, I have gained a certain appreciation for never ending descriptions and loads of details, and so I look upon John Steinbeck (but not The Red Pony) quite differently now.