The Row Itself |
Cannery Row in Monterey in California is a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream. Cannery Row is the gathered and scattered, tin and iron and rust and splintered wood, chipped pavement and weedy lots and junk heaps, sardine canneries of corrugated iron, honky-tonks, restaurants and whore-houses, and little crowded groceries, and laboratories and flop-houses. Prologue to "Cannery Row" |
Just about dusk one day in April 1948, Ed Ricketts
stopped work in the laboratory in Cannery Row. He covered his
instruments and put away his papers and filing cards. He rolled
down the sleeves of his wool shirt and put on the brown coat
which was slightly small for him and frayed at the elbows. "About Ed Ricketts" from "The Log from the Sea of Cortez" |