How shall I express? I am in the middle of my second John Steinbeck novel, The Grapes of Wrath. I am on page 98. How shall I express? That writing is omniscient!
Imagine you have a glass of clear water. You drop a droplet of a lovely ink in it. For some time, that droplet does nothing, and then slowly but surely, it disperses in the whole glass.
Reading John Steinbeck is like that whole orchestra of that beautiful ink droplet and water.
Even though I tried to explain, my words are fickle to express. Because reading John Steinbeck is way more than it…!