Ever since his first book was published in 1929, John Steinbeck has been writing about America—while America changed. In 1960, when he was almost sixty years old, Steinbeck felt that he might have lost touch: “I was working from memory,” he said, “I had not felt the country for twenty-five years.” To reassure himself, he set out on a remarkable voyage of rediscovery, accompanied by a distinguished French poodle named Charley, and riding in a three-quarter-ton pickup truck equipped with a miniature ship’s cabin and named Rocinante. Ultimately, his course took him through almost forty states. Again, as always, his concern was with the people: “From start to finish I found no strangers….these are my people and this is my country.” Rarely, if ever before, have people and a country been examined and reported with so much love combined with so much critical insight.