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have I then? Luckily such considerations do not often assail me.
    We have had hot weather here if you can imagine it. But today the fog has come in and we are back to normal. My garden is so lovely that I shall hate ever to leave it. I have turtles in the pond now and water grasses. You would love the yard. We have a vine house in back with ferns and tuberous begonias. We have a large cineraria bed in bloom and the whole yard is alive with nasturtiums.
    I feel very sad. It is the feeling of impending doom when one is comfortable and in health. I guess it is an apprehension of the jealous gods. One can’t be as happy as I have been for very long. There’s a law against it. I have worked hard and enjoyed my work and it is the punishment of man to hate his work. Sooner or later I will have work that I hate.
    That’s all. Drop me a line from the train if you haven’t any other time. I’m jealous of your isolation.
    Affectionately,
John

To Mavis McIntosh
    Pacific Grove
August 18, 1931
    Dear Miss McIntosh:
    I think I told you in an earlier letter that the imperfections of the Unknown God had bothered me ever since I first submitted the book for publication. In consequence of this uneasiness, your announcement of the book’s failure to find a publisher is neither unwelcome nor unpleasant to me. If I were sure of the book, I should put it aside and wait for some other story to gain it an entrance. But I know its faults. I know, though, that the story is good. I shall rewrite it immediately. Whether my idea of excellence coincides with editors’ ideas remains to be seen. Certainly I shall make no effort to “popularize” the story.
    I have a carbon of the Unknown God. It will not be necessary to return the original.
    Mr. Miller will hand you a manuscript of about thirty thousand words [Dissonant Symphony ]. It is an impossible length for marketing. I had thought perhaps it could be included under one cover with the ten stories which will make up The Pastures of Heaven. The name is bad, but that can be readily changed. Will you let me know your opinion of this plan?
    The Pastures stories proceed rapidly, perhaps too rapidly. They should be ready to submit by Christmas.
    Thank you for your help. I am an unprofitable client.
    Sincerely,
John Steinbeck

To George Albee
    [Pacific Grove]
[1931]
    Dear George:
    The Sheffields left last Friday or Saturday I guess it was. We had an awfully good time and I enjoyed having them. Now I wonder when you will be coming up. Have been expecting to hear every day.
    As to the shoes—people in our circumstances can’t be giving each other presents. It would be ridiculous. Too much food could be bought with the money and we must hold out in the matter of food. If we don’t go low on it we may manage to do the thing we want to. It’s a kind of endurance contest at best. So forget the shoes, but thank you for the thought.
    I learn that all of my manuscripts have been rejected three or four times since I last heard. It is a nice thing to know that so many people are reading my books. That is one way of getting an audience.
    Hurry and come up or at least let me know when you are coming. We are anxious to see you. I pulled all Tillie’s whiskers out to strengthen their growth. She looks like hell now. We are ashamed to be seen with her.
    Write soon.
    John

To George Albee
    Pacific Grove
[1931]
    Dear George:
    This is the day between—one ms. finished yesterday and the next one not quite hatched. It will be by tomorrow though. [He is referring to the separate stories in The Pastures of Heaven.] This is a good day to write letters.
    I’m pretty happy over these stories. That is because they aren’t finished, I guess.
    It isn’t unusual that you worry about my financial future. Everyone I have ever known very well has been concerned that I would eventually starve. Probably I shall. It isn’t important enough to me to be an obsession. I have