I read this in one night when I flopped drunk on my friend's girlfriend's couch after a night around the bars.

It's so timely as to be telepathic.

One character literally remarks, regarding the town his troops are occupying, how he is puzzled that there were no flowers or candy thrown at the soldiers who "liberated" them, as everyone had promised they would.

I mean, Come On, how can that not blow your mind, just a little bit?

It was written as Allied propaganda during WW2 explicity at the request of the government, with Steinbeck's full compliance.

It was contraband in Italy, where one could be put to death for transmitting it. it was printed on tissue paper to be smuggled through fascist occupation and the courageous souls who took it upon themselves to get it out to the Allied soldiers narrowly missed death more than once.

This is what Literature's all about- for me. Writing (and reading!) like your life depended on it. And it's immensely gratifying to know that for some, it actually did.

It's not necessarily a literary masterpiece, but its of sufficient quality to be valuable as a piece of art than as a simple historical artifact.

It's even sympathetic to the Nazi characters! They are portrayed as human beings, not monsters, since that would be ironically to play into the fascist game after all- didn't the Nazis, for example, attempt to claim that they were superhuman?

An overtly propagandistic novel which actually addresses the humanity of the enemy (and that's quite an enemy we're talking about here) is a mightly impressive and respectable feat, says I.

I'm just glad I read it. What it represents, on several levels, is gratifying and positive that this very minor book should never be forgotten.