Fields and Crops

Here's the deal: in this book, the fields and crops give us imagery that is both beautiful and backbreaking. Yep, this imagery packs a one-two punch, and is both at once. Hop in the Shmoop-mobile and we'll show you how this works.

Picture this: you're driving along in sunny California and there're crops as far as the eye can see. There are vines with grapes, or maybe plants with strawberries or cotton. And with all those colors, the crops are quite a sight to be seen. Well that's a picture Francisco gets all the time:

In the latter part of October, after the grape season was over, we left Mr. Jacobson's vineyards in Fresno and headed for Corcoran to pick cotton. As we drove down the narrow, two-lane road, we passed vineyard after vineyard. Stripped of their grapes, the vines were now draped in yellow, orange, and brown leaves. Within a couple of hours, the vineyards gave way to cotton fields. On both sides of the road we were surrounded by miles and miles of cotton plants. (8.1)

Sounds pretty, right? There's nothing like the word draped to conjure a soothing scene. But before we start daydreaming about diving into fluffy heaps of cotton, let's not forget that before long Francisco and his family will be working in those cotton fields. And when we say working, we mean twelve-hours each day under a beating sun. Or sometimes when it's freezing cold. With just a teensy tiny break for lunch. Instead of a serene scene, then, this image of the fields also represents back-breaking work.

So we've got some pretty views of fields, plus the hard truth that fieldworkers end up laboring like mad to harvest all the crops. This imagery really is two things at once.

How do you think the beautiful fields imagery relates to the backbreaking imagery of harvesting those crops? Does one overpower the other?