Reading chapter 4 now. One of the perks of reading a novel is that you get to virtually experience a time and place you’ve never been to - through the vivid words of a writer who honed their craft for life. The descriptive, gripping language paints the scene both inside and outside of characters: the sky, the air, the temperature, the humidity, the talk, the sweat on Joad’s forehead, the dust cloud - not of today, but of the 1930s, way way before I was born, in Oklahoma, where I’ve never been. It feels different from watching movies, where so much flies by too quickly to catch. There’s something wonderful about being forced through the writing word by word at your own pace - you experience so much more detail in return. I guess I just haven’t read a good novel in a while. And it’s refreshing!