The viewpoint character is Kino, Steinbeck spends the first chapter getting us to side with Kino, and Juana remains unrounded. I disagree that Juana is ‘the true hero’. They only survived each scenario because of her and her ideas. In …The Pearl, Juana is the true hero of the story whose place is behind her man until the end, when they walk “side by side” when before, she always had to walk behind him. If only she weren’t under the thumb of her husband, who knows best according to the laws of patriarchy, they could’ve returned the pearl to the sea and their baby would have lived.īecause of the Female Maturity Formula, authors like Steinbeck are often let off the hook, because, as the following Goodreads commenter says: She realises the evil in the pearl much earlier in the story, functioning as a Cassandra character. Juana is your classic Female Maturity Formula. Juana - Kino’s obedient wife who has recently given birth to their first baby. Owns a canoe and spends his days diving for pearls and fishing to feed his family. Kino - small build, wears a suppliant hat, native to Mexico, no money. Heinemann 1948) Illustrations by Vera Jarman CHARACTERS OF “THE PEARL” The Pearl (John Steinbeck – originally published by W. Bad deeds are carried out by imperfect humans. The oversized pearl itself is blamed, when in fact pearls are just pearls. The illusion of causality is at work in Steinbeck’s “The Pearl”, too, as humble villagers are corrupted by greed as soon as they come into some material good fortune. If everyone were affected by the same cognitive bias as my father we wouldn’t see older women walking around with hands full of inherited rings. That’s how inheritance works, of course - a ring isn’t passed down until its owner dies.
Obviously, to his mind, the ring itself is bad luck. First it belonged to an auntie of his - an auntie who died. I never see that ring again, because my father insists it’s cursed. A year or so later, Nana is killed by a car while crossing the road to buy milk at the dairy. Nana goes to her bedroom, comes back with a ring and says, “See this ring? That’s yours when I die.” I can’t really see the ring from where I sit on the floor, but I nod obediently. I’m four or five, sitting on the carpet in the living room at my Nana’s house. This story reminded me of a half-forgotten memory.
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