In the introduction to this book, it stated that it was a book written with the intention of becoming a play. A book and a play are written in vastly different styles, so I was intrigued by this. I thought that when judging it I should take into account how this is designed to be a play. Well, at first I thought that. Then I realised, why do that? If a book is written, it is a book, regardless of the author's intentions. It becomes a play when someone makes it a play and therefore it remains a book otherwise. There were brief glimpses of nice description early in the book prior to arrival on the farm, but after that there was little to none. The book, as suggested by my title, overused the word 'said' to such a huge extent. There are other words, Steinbeck. The description as I say was lacking, and very little of a picture was painted. There were opportunities for nice character touches to be placed in the book, little additions to show flair, but these opportunities were bypassed. There was nothing of the quality shown by Franz Kafka, nothing even close, in describing the characters. No attempt at all. The premise of the book was certainly acceptable, two guys on the road with ambition, I have no qualms about that. The story I felt was good also. But overall, what separates this book from great books was its skeletal nature. It was so thin in terms of detail that it just didn't suffice for me. I'm sure others will feel different but that is how it is for me.