Steinbeck’s The Red Pony is a series of stories centered around one boy’s coming of age, growing up on a farm in the early twentieth century. The book is less of a collection of short stories than a longform story, told in parts.
I liked it, but I generally enjoy Steinbeck. I found approx. 17 copies of this thin book at my local library. No doubt some middle school in the neighborhood has chosen this book as assigned reading. Or perhaps the library chose The Red Pony for their teen book club, assuming such a thing exists.
The language of the book is direct, with Steinbeck’s usual clear, strong sentences. I can easily see why this book, with its short length and ease of reading, would be recommended for young adults. I am sure I would have found the book profound but a tad obvious, in my own sarcastic, easily dismissive youth.
Slightly older now, I can see the beauty in simple statements and raw emotions, both of which The Red Pony certainly has a surplus.