NOTE: major plot spoilers for East of Eden ahead.
"Timshel." Hebrew for "thou mayest." The last word spoken by Adam Trask at the end of East of Eden, after his devastating stroke upon learning of his son Aron's death in World War I.
Aron joined the army after his brother, Cal, revealed to him the truth about their mother, Cathy: that she is not dead in the east, but in fact living in their city, and runs its most notorious and vicious brothel under the name "Kate."
Cal feels he killed his brother. Lee, long time servant of the Trask family, desperately implores Adam to absolve his son Cal of the guilt that is set to destroy him. Adam, in his fugue, finds a moment of clarity to mutter "timshel," a Hebrew verb central to the understanding of the story of Cain and Abel.
Brief aside: while I haven't read all of Steinbeck's work, I think it's a safe assertion that East of Eden is his most ambitious work. It also appears to be his most sentimental one, and could be described as a novelization of two variations of the Cain and Abel story. The more literature one reads, especially in a digital age, and the more one tries to write literature, the bitterer one can become in his reading tastes. My instinct is to criticize East of Eden for being too "on the nose," but another part of me feels that the sprawling ambition and psychological depth of the novel are salves against such a critique.
When Cal and Aron are boys, their father Adam, his servant Lee, and family friend Sam Hamilton discuss the story of Cain and Abel. Initially, they were drawn to the Bible in pursuit of names for Adam's boys, who, at ten months old, remained unnamed-- their father, fully beset by grief at Cathy's betrayal and abandonment, withdraws from social living and relegates Lee to caring for the boys. As they search for names, they discuss the story, which is perhaps the most important conversation in all the book.
"Adam said, 'I can't get over feeling that Cain got the dirty end of the stick.'
'Maybe he did,' said Samuel. 'But Cain lived and had children, and Abel lives only in the story. We are Cain's children. And isn't it strange that three grown men, here in a century so many thousands of years away, discuss this crime as though it happened in King City yesterday and hadn't come up for trial?'" (354).
In discussing the lasting appeal of the Cain and Abel story, which Samuel believes to be seemingly hopeless, Lee says "'I think this is the best-known story in the world because it is everybody's story... The greatest terror a child can have is that he is not loved, and rejection is the hell he fears.'"
Ten years pass. The boys grow. Samuel, Lee, and Adam are discussing, again, the story, and reflecting on the night they first discussed it in their pursuit of naming Cal and Aron (as he comes to be known, shortening from "Aaron").
Lee discusses his disquiet at the differing translations of one set of lines of the story. One translation says "if thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him."
Another translation says "Do thou rule over him."
Lee, so troubled by the difference, connects with scholars at his family association in San Francisco, who learn Hebrew upon hearing about the issue. They conclude with a true translation of the verb timshel, "thou mayest."
It's not a command, and it's not a promise. It's a choice. You can rule over your desire, but there is no guarantee.
In the end, after Aron's death in war and Adam's stroke, Lee drags Cal before his father. "'Your son is marked with guilt out of himself--out of himself-- almost more than he can bear. Don't crush him with rejection. Don't crush him, Adam,'" he says. "'Help him, Adam-- help him. Give him his chance. Let him be free. That's all a man has over beasts. Free him! Bless him!,'" he continues.
And out of his fugue, Adam says only "'Timshel.'" Thou mayest. You can, Cal. You can conquer your desires and the innate badness you think inhabits you. And in so doing, he frees his son.
Cal lives on and has children. Aron lives only in the story. Just as Cain and Abel find themselves in their story.
And the best part? Supposedly, there's no verb Timshel in Hebrew, and the whole thing is a Steinbeck invention/mistranslation. And it doesn't matter, because Lee, Cal, and Adam believe it to be true. People make their own meaning.
It's masterful parallel structure, and there's still so much more to say.