The Grapes of Wrath

In the cool, pale light before dawn, Kino's world is whole. He awakens to the Song of the Family, a music woven from the gentle splash of waves on the beach, the pat of his wife Juana making corncakes over the fire, and the soft breathing of their infant son, Coyotito, in his hanging box. This is the music of safety, of warmth, of a life that is simple and complete. But the whole is fragile. A scorpion, its tail a glistening thorn, moves slowly down the rope of the baby's box. In an instant, the Song of Evil, the music of the enemy, crashes into the morning's peace. Though Kino crushes the scorpion to a paste, it is too late. The stinger has struck Coyotito's shoulder, and the baby's screams tear through the quiet village.

The poison spreads, and with it, a desperate fear. Juana's demand is a shock to the neighbors who gather in their hut: “The doctor.” They know the doctor does not come to the brush houses, not for the likes of them. The procession to the city is a somber parade of hope against certainty, the bare-footed villagers moving from their familiar world into the stone and plaster town of the rich. At the doctor's gate, Kino feels the ancient rage of his people, a fury at four hundred years of being treated as animals. The servant's dismissal is swift and contemptuous, the gate closing on their poverty and their pain. In a final, helpless act of defiance, Kino smashes his fist against the iron, his knuckles splitting as his hope turns to blood.

With no other recourse, they turn to the sea, their ancient provider. In his grandfather's canoe, Kino dives into the hazy, green world of the Gulf, the Song of the Undersea filling his mind. But this time, a secret, sweeter melody weaves through it - the Song of the Pearl That Might Be. The need is so great, for his son's life hangs in the balance, that the song grows stronger. Then he sees it: a great oyster, lying alone, and within its lip, a ghostly gleam. Back in the canoe, his heart pounding, he pries it open. There, perfect as the moon and as large as a sea-gull's egg, lies the greatest pearl in the world. As Kino holds it, he sees the swelling recede from Coyotito's shoulder. He throws back his head and howls, a cry of triumph that brings the other canoes racing toward him.

The news of the Pearl of the World travels through the town like a disease, infecting every heart with greed. The priest thinks of church repairs, the shopkeepers of unsold clothes, and the doctor of a life he once lived in Paris. A curious, dark residue settles over the village, and every person becomes related to Kino's pearl, and therefore, his enemy. But Kino and Juana, in their joy, are blind to this. In the warm incandescence of the pearl, Kino sees his dreams take form: a wedding in the church, new clothes, a rifle. And most importantly, he sees his son, Coyotito, at a school desk, reading from a great book. “My son will read,” Kino declares to the awed neighbors. “And he will know things, and these things will make us free.”

But the pearl's light casts a dark shadow. The evil music returns with the night, first with the priest's visit, then with the doctor, who arrives with false concern and a small black bag. He tricks them into believing Coyotito is still in danger, treating the baby with a mysterious powder that first makes him violently ill, then miraculously cures him. In the process, the doctor's eyes search for the pearl's hiding place. Later, in the dark, an intruder slips into the hut, and Kino is struck down in a blind struggle. “This thing is evil,” Juana cries, her voice thin with terror. “It will destroy us. Let us throw it back into the sea.” But Kino's will is hard as stone. “I am a man,” he says, his voice a command. “No one shall take our good fortune from us.”

The next day, Kino walks to the city to sell his treasure, the entire village trailing behind him like a solemn procession. In the dim office of the pearl buyer, a man with a fatherly face and cruel, unwinking eyes, the pearl is laid upon a black velvet tray. The man scoffs. It is a monstrosity, a curiosity, worth only a thousand pesos. Other dealers are called, and they too dismiss it as soft and chalky, a thing of no value. Kino feels the creeping of fate, the circling of wolves. “I am cheated,” he cries, snatching the pearl and bursting through the crowd. He has defied the whole structure of their lives, and now he is truly alone, with only one path forward: to take the pearl to the capital himself.

That night, the violence escalates. Kino is attacked in the darkness and barely survives. Juana, knowing the pearl is a curse, steals out of the hut to throw it into the sea. Kino catches her, his rage transforming him. He strikes her down and wrenches the pearl from her hand, hissing like a snake. As he turns away, he is ambushed. In the frantic struggle, he plunges his knife into a man's throat, and the old life is gone forever. They cannot go back. With their canoe smashed and their house set ablaze by the dark ones, they flee into the night, fugitives from a world that has turned against them.

They travel north, into the dry, hostile wilderness, the music of the pearl now sinister and interwoven with the music of evil. Soon, they are not just fleeing, but being hunted. Three figures appear in the distance: two trackers, sensitive as hounds, and a man on horseback with a rifle. The desperate flight takes them into the high, stone mountains, where they find shelter and a trickle of water in a shallow cave. From this hiding place, Kino watches the trackers make camp by a small pool below. He knows they will be found by morning.

As the moon rises, casting hard shadows on the rock, Kino strips off his white clothes and creeps down the mountain like a slow lizard, his great knife ready. He must get to the man with the rifle. But just as he prepares to leap, a small cry comes from the cave above. The watcher hears it. “Coyote maybe,” he says, raising his rifle. “If it's a coyote, this will stop it.” The gun crashes at the exact moment Kino leaps. He moves like a terrible machine, his knife and the captured rifle finding their marks until all three hunters lie dead. And then, his brain clears from its red concentration, and he hears it - the keening, moaning, hysterical cry of death from the cave.

They return to La Paz in the golden afternoon, not in single file as they had left, but side by side, casting long shadows that stalk before them like towers of darkness. Kino carries a rifle, and Juana carries a small, limp bundle in her shawl, crusted with dried blood. The people of the village fall back in silence, sensing the two have gone through a terrible pain and come out on the other side, removed from human experience. They walk past the burned patch where their house stood, past the broken canoe, and stop at the water's edge. Kino holds out the great pearl. In its gray, ulcerous surface, he sees evil faces, the light of fire, and the frantic eyes of the man in the pool. He sees Coyotito, lying in the cave with the top of his head shot away. He offers the pearl to Juana, but she looks into his eyes and says softly, “No, you.” And with all his might, Kino flings the pearl back into the sea. They watch the small splash in the distance, and as the pearl settles among the waving algae on the sea floor, its music drifts to a whisper and is gone.