The two-sided notebook behind Florence Pugh’s East of Eden

The other half of the writing day

According to the publisher's description of Journal of a Novel, Steinbeck began each working day from January 29 to November 1, 1951, with a letter to Covici. Those letters concerned story problems, experiments in writing and his sons. A novelist warming up by talking to a trusted reader is a lovely detail. Even a monumental book had to start with one manageable page.

Kazan told Penguin’s Ask Penguin podcast that the letters let her follow changes in Steinbeck's relationship to his characters. That makes them useful beyond supplying an extra anecdote. A finished novel presents decisions already made; correspondence can expose the thinking that preceded them. I think that distinction explains why the notebook matters here. An adapter can work from the published sentences while also considering the author's evolving intentions.

That does not make the letters an instruction manual for television. It makes them evidence. The interpretation still belongs to the people creating the series, and a reader can agree with their choices, disagree with them or enjoy the conversation between the two versions.

A sentence changes when someone says it

Netflix’s account of the trailer identifies a concrete example: words from the opening of the novel's chapter 8, spoken by its narrator on the page, are given to Cathy in the adaptation. The wording can retain a connection to Steinbeck while its speaker changes. A useful comparison therefore starts with who is speaking, rather than merely whether the line appeared in the book.

Imagine an observation printed above a scene, then imagine a character saying the same thing during it. The second version invites a further question about that character's understanding. Tone, timing and the surrounding action can all affect the answer. This is an illustration of how the device works, not a claim about an unverified scene in East of Eden.

There is also a precise wrinkle in Kazan's explanation. In the Penguin interview, she says she does not really think of Cathy as the narrator, even though the series uses her voiceover; she likens the relationship to Cathy talking to herself. That is worth holding beside the promotional description of a Cathy-centered story. Hearing her voice does not automatically turn every thought into the series' final judgment.

Pugh has a character to play, not a verdict

In her interview with W Magazine, Kazan describes wanting an actor who could approach Cathy with empathy while retaining the character's edges. Pugh was the actor she had in mind. This is a statement about the creative brief, not a verdict on how any individual viewer will receive the performance.

The distinction helps with a common adaptation argument. Giving a character more space can make that character more understandable without requiring the audience to approve of every choice. A performance has room for hesitation, contradiction and changing emphasis. A label has very little room for any of those things.

I would judge this kind of adaptation by whether the added emphasis produces a more intelligible person and a richer story. Counting favorable moments would tell us less. The published interviews establish what Kazan wanted to attempt; they cannot settle whether every scene succeeds. That remains an interpretation of the finished work.

Seven episodes are a frame, not a photocopier

Kazan wrote and executive produced all seven episodes, and Netflix describes the intertwined Trask and Hamilton families settling in California's Salinas Valley. Her grandfather, Elia Kazan, directed the 1955 film starring James Dean. Netflix’s first-look article explains both the family connection and the broader approach. A shared title and family connection do not require the two adaptations to make identical choices.

The source novel itself is unusually accommodating of digression. Kazan points out in the Penguin conversation that it even includes a chapter about Steinbeck's mother, Olive, taking her first airplane ride. What a gloriously specific thing for a family epic to stop and notice. It is a reminder that a book's character can reside in passages that barely advance its main plot.

Moving such a book to the screen inevitably raises questions about emphasis. Does a passage supply information, atmosphere, a rhythm or a way of thinking? Those functions can suggest different screen solutions. A missing passage alone cannot tell a reader which solution was chosen, and the existence of seven episodes cannot promise a complete inventory of the novel.

The landscape belongs in the conversation too

Stanford’s Steinbeck Institute describes Steinbeck's sustained interest in people within their environments. Meanwhile, the New Zealand Film Commission confirms that the series was filmed extensively in New Zealand, whose landscapes and period locations stood in for America. The imagined place and the production place are separate facts. Both can help explain the work.

We can verify those choices and the creators' stated intentions. They provide useful points of attention: the speaker of a borrowed sentence, the space given to a character, the feel of a setting. They also keep discussion grounded when a familiar title encourages sweeping assumptions.

The notebook offers a gentler final image. Before there was a screen adaptation to debate, there was a writer making another day's start, with a friend waiting on the facing page. That exchange gives this enormous story a human scale. It also gives readers permission to enter the conversation with curiosity, pencil optional.