In East of Eden, Steinbeck comments on the way in which time has become compressed in the modern age.
The split second has been growing more and more important to us. And as human activities become more and more intermeshed and integrated, the split tenth of a second will emerge, and then a new name must be made for the split hundredth, until one day, although I don’t believe it, we’ll say, “Oh, the hell with it. What’s wrong with an hour?” But it isn’t silly, this preoccupation with small time units. One thing late or early can disrupt everything around it, and the disturbance runs outward in bands like the waves from a dropped stone in a quiet pool.
In the days of early industrialization, in the 18th and 19th centuries, traveling relatively far distances became something more broadly possible. By carriage or by train or by boat, you had the first lurches of globalization as vast empires spread across the globe.
When I read about traveling in books, or from events of the time, I’m struck by how slow it all feels when compared to today. Travel time was mapped in days and weeks, not hours. Seconds mattered little.
Along the way, you would need to stop. Pretty often actually. To rest, or to gather supplies, or to get some water and food, or change horses, or dozens of other things. Stories in these fictional universes visit distant relatives along the way—that they maybe have not seen for quite a long time, or ever at all—stopping in for a warm fire and a bit of company.
Finding these connections along the way was an essential part of travel. You would have to rely on the kindness of strangers and relatives to make it anywhere. These serendipitous, and sometimes chance, encounters provided the backdrop for a lot of fiction written from this time.
But then we became obsessed with the split second. The speed of travel. Trains, planes and automobiles.
I went with the whole family to Pennsylvania this past weekend. It was so fun, we had a really, really good time. Honestly, the most fun we’ve had together since C was born. Just the best possibly family trip.
The drive was about four hours, and we more or less drove through the whole way, stopping here and there. Along the way I passed about half a dozen old friends and relatives. A lot of them I haven’t seen in a while. But we drove on.
