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jessiahmarielle 's review for:
Of Mice and Men
by John Steinbeck
Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men left me in quiet ruin. Line by line, it is a masterwork of prose. The ending shattered me, as it would’ve done for anyone. But for me, it got a little more personal.
I see myself in George, because his experience with Lennie is very comparable to mine with my neurodivergent sibling.
I know what it means to walk through the world beside someone who doesn’t quite fit the mold—someone with a misunderstood heart, and a mind that moves differently, and yet whose soul you know better than anyone. And because you know them, you protect them and stick by them. Even when they make mistakes and hurt people. Even when the world recoils.
Steinbeck doesn’t romanticize that burden. He shows it plainly and painfully. Because this kind of love is not loud or perfect. Instead, it’s persistent, grieving, and human.
I see myself in George, because his experience with Lennie is very comparable to mine with my neurodivergent sibling.
I know what it means to walk through the world beside someone who doesn’t quite fit the mold—someone with a misunderstood heart, and a mind that moves differently, and yet whose soul you know better than anyone. And because you know them, you protect them and stick by them. Even when they make mistakes and hurt people. Even when the world recoils.
Steinbeck doesn’t romanticize that burden. He shows it plainly and painfully. Because this kind of love is not loud or perfect. Instead, it’s persistent, grieving, and human.