How a Boring Introduction Almost Ruined The Grapes of Wrath for Me
If an introduction is longer than most chapters, it is too long!

After reading a wonderful review of The Grapes of Wrath by Shanti C K, I decided to finally take this book off my “Must read” list and read it. But after the longest, most boring introduction I’ve ever encountered, I’m weary.
I’m reading the Penguin Modern Classics Kindle edition. The first thing you find when you open the book is the “Introduction” by Robert DeMott. I’m not familiar with DeMott, and the book says nothing about him or his credentials. Thankfully, Google is a click away, and I could quench my curiosity. DeMott is a famous author and scholar. His speciality? Steinbeck’s work. He has published numerous books and over seventy articles and essays on Steinbeck and his work. I get it, DeMott is an expert; he knows all there is to know about this book. But I wish he had kept most of his knowledge for later — either in a separate article, essay, book, or even an “Afterword”.
DeMott’s “Introduction” is so wordy and boring that I thought I might become blind while reading it — I feared my eyes would forever become stuck in some weird way, as I couldn’t stop myself from rolling them at the zillion mentions of how Steinbeck’s book is a magnificent work of fiction, created with the sweat and tears filled with the purpose and intention of the author. Okay, perhaps I’m a bit too overdramatic here. But as someone who hasn’t read this book and isn’t very aware of its particulars, this extensive (and, in my opinion, totally unnecessary) foreword risked ruining my experience of the story.
I managed not to throw up, barely. But my fear now is, how can I enjoy reading The Grapes of Wrath after all this? Even though the introduction was praise-talk, as such things often are, I know the book is considered exceptional by many, a classic of English literature. So now my expectations are through the roof, at the same time that I expect the book to be the endlessly boring literary triumph that has the critics going crazy (because of its mastery) and the public going bonkers (how can this bore fest be the story everyone’s talking about?).
Introductions should be short
Imagine you’re at a party, and you meet a friend. They’re with someone you’ve never seen before. Your friend then introduces you to this new person. How shocking (and terrible) would it be if your friend spent half an hour in an interrupted monologue about how great this person is, all their accolades, and how much you’d enjoy befriending them? There would be much embarrassment all around. Nobody enjoys an introduction like that.
I once read that if you’re unsure your book needs an introduction or foreword, it’s because it doesn’t need it. Sure, The Grapes of Wrath is on another level, and an introduction is called for.
An introduction with subchapters, though? I’m not so sure. It was the first time I encountered such a thing. I stopped reading when I reached “II”. I’ll go back once I finish the book, but I want to experience the story, not be told about it endlessly before even starting on Steinbeck’s words.
I saw the time left in the chapter (1 hour), and I thought Kindle was misreading length and perhaps even joining a few chapters together. It happens occasionally. But there was no mistake this time. This introduction takes 7% of the book — a story of almost 500 pages! How that’s even a thing, I don’t know. It was a litany of praise for 2% (on the Kindle version, there are no page numbers for the introduction, so the percentage is all I can do here), and then subchapter II begins by talking about Steinbeck’s story. I can see chapters linked throughout, though, which makes me believe this part of the introduction relates the author’s lived experience to his work. That’s quite cool, but in my opinion, completely misplaced in an introduction.
There are four subchapters within the introduction. I’m no literary critic or connoisseur, so perhaps I should keep my opinion to myself. But I’m also not good at that. Introductions should be short. Sure, hail some praise, flaunt the millions of copies sold and how the book changed the literary landscape. Highlight why the author was just the right person to have written such a story, and whatever other quirky fact may make the reader more excited for what’s to come. But be brief. Getting your reader tired and bored (and with super high expectations that can’t possibly be met) is a terrible premise for starting a book.
Reading should be fun
This kind of introduction brings me back to my middle and high school days, when we had to read classic books the teacher would impose on us. I’m Brazilian, so we read Portuguese language classics, not the same English-speaking readers will have in school. Perhaps the experience is different, but for us, it was boring book after boring book.
I’ve been an avid reader from a very young age, so I wasn’t unfamiliar with reading books when school started requesting us to read the classics. Quite often, I’d have my own book in my bag alongside the required novel. And yet, I’d join my peers’ choir of lamentation whenever the next title was announced.
I’m not surprised many of my friends would claim to hate books. I didn’t like those stories, either, and I was undoubtedly a book lover.
The main problem was two-fold. First and foremost, we were too young for such mature books. I’ve reread some of those classics as an adult, and they may not have entered my top ten books of all times, but they’re not bad stories for a grownup who’s used to reading. For a teenager, though, they’re boredom incarnated. Slow-paced stories and formal writing, often in a style that’s not how we talk in our daily lives. It’s no surprise teenagers would find it hard to connect to such books — they don’t talk about the things that are important for modern teenagers.
The second problem, though, could’ve been easily overcome. All the high praise and overanalysing of the classics makes them less attractive and fun. The story becomes this inflated mess you read several times, trying to distil meaning and make sense of perceived allegories. The author is almost godlike, and the reader can’t enjoy the story. After all, reading isn’t enough; it’s paramount to analyse the book and find the correct answers. Having your own opinion about such classics is a sin, and can only show how you’re unlearned. The extra pressure makes it impossible for the young reader to enjoy the story.
Of course, I can’t say if this is the same experience all students have worldwide. But when I read some long, boring, and infatuated introduction, such as the one I was faced with before beginning The Grapes of Wrath, I’m back in that classroom, back being twelve and sure that the book my teacher was praising so much would be tedious, dull, and highly uninteresting. How annoying is it that I can’t enjoy the story but must find the correct answers and analysis to get a good grade? Before I even start reading the book, my brain categorises it as a boring read that must be done and, above all, that finding the correct answers is paramount and enjoying the story isn’t necessary (and probably won’t happen). It isn’t fair to a book to have this kind of start.
