December 24, 2016

It Can’t Happen Here — Sinclair Lewis

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , , , , , , , at 10:46 pm by chuckredman

“Aw, shoot, Dad—and you too, Julian, you young paranoiac—you’re monomaniacs! Dictatorship? Better come into the office and let me examine your heads! Why, America’s the only free nation on earth. Besides! Country’s too big for a revolution. No, no! Couldn’t happen here!”

I just read the most amazing book I’ve read since 1984 (the book, not the year). Possibly the most amazing since 1973 (the year, not the book). Actually, Sinclair Lewis’s novel It Can’t Happen Here, which was published in 1935, predated 1984 (the book, not the year) by fourteen years. Which means that Lewis did not have the benefit of hindsight when he recognized what too few people seemed to recognize around the middle of the Great Depression. Sinclair Lewis saw what was happening in Europe. He also heard frighteningly similar rumblings in this country. His book, written half a decade before the true magnitude of European fascism could be witnessed and understood, was a chillingly accurate forecast.

So did Lewis also predict what we in the U.S. have just witnessed and are struggling to understand: the election as President of a populist demagogue, in the mold of Senator Buzz Windrip in the novel? Well, Lewis’s protagonist, liberal journalist Doremus Jessup, listens only half-concerned to the national radio broadcast of the nominating convention, but the similarity is striking:

. . . every delegate knew that Mr. Roosevelt and Miss Perkins were far too lacking in circus tinsel and general clownishness to succeed at this critical hour of the nation’s hysteria, when the electorate wanted a ringmaster-revolutionist like Senator Windrip.

Though Lewis begins his book in satirical tone, we’re not too many chapters in before we realize, along with Doremus, that this story—the rise of a political movement based on anger, hate and false rhetoric—is no joke. It is nearly, in fact, as powerful and sobering as Orwell’s 1984. Here is how Doremus saw Senator/President Windrip’s quasi-official partisans, the “Minute Men”, or “M.M.”, which protected Windrip’s surging popularity by terrorizing the general population and appealing to its basest impulses:

They had the Jews and the Negroes to look down on, more and more. The M.M.’s saw to that. Every man is a king so long as he has someone to look down on. . . . Their mutter became louder, less human, more like the snap of burning rafters. Their glances joined in one. He was, frankly, scared.

Could Lewis have had the Nazi SS in mind? Seems likely.

I just realized that, for better or for worse, many of my favorite books are about the oppression of large segments of society by vindictive, self-righteous governments or ruling classes. A Tale of Two Cities, The Grapes of Wrath, In Dubious Battle, Mother, Doctor Zhivago, Homage To Catalonia, Fahrenheit 451, and the two brave books discussed above. You should probably read these books, all of these books, while they’re still on our shelves. Before they start hurling them into big piles in our city squares and torching them. Which is what happened to Doremus Jessup’s personal collection of books. Which could happen here.

 

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January 25, 2015

Reading Upton Sinclair

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , , , , , , , at 8:47 pm by chuckredman

It’s technically considered fiction, but it’s really more a biography or a history. It doesn’t matter. Whatever you call it, it’s pretty darn magnificent. It’s Upton Sinclair’s book The Flivver King (1937), and, like his more renowned book The Jungle, it almost single-handedly reformed an American industry. *[See my previous post for more recommended reading on the subject of capitalist exploitation of labor.]

The so-called Flivver King was Henry Ford, and Sinclair depicts in substantial detail the life and times of that titan of industry, as well as two generations of a fictional family that worked for him. While I knew that Henry Ford was a powerful industrialist with a reputation for conservative politics and narrow-mindedness, I had no idea of the extent of all those features. Neither, apparently, did the American public during Ford’s lifetime, at least until Sinclair’s book appeared. When it was published, it helped to make the United Auto Workers a viable union, and other industries and unions followed suit. Can you imagine how many peoples’ lives have been drastically improved by this one small book?

Now, you might think such a book would make for less-than-scintillating reading. But in fact the book is enthralling, even chilling, and Sinclair’s subtle brand of irony spices it beautifully. I read The Jungle in my sophomore year of college, and never picked up another book by Upton Sinclair until now. Shame on me!

January 11, 2015

A World to Win

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , , , , , , , at 8:42 pm by chuckredman

My blog entry for April 6, 2014 (scroll down a few months) discusses three top-notch works of fiction dramatizing the plight of the American working class in the early 1900’s. I have just finished a fourth, which deserves equal credit for a powerful portrayal of the exploitation of industrial workers from a Marxist perspective. There is no doubt in my mind that A World to Win, by Jack Conroy (published 1935), is one of the best books I’ve read in a decade, and one of the great novels of his era. I can’t judge Conroy’s body of work because I had never heard of him before I came across A World to Win in the library. The book had been out of print for several decades, but recently republished by the Univ. of Illinois Press’ series called The Radical Novel Reconsidered.

Conroy’s novel is the story of two brothers who grow apart as post-World War I America goes through expansion of industrialization, Prohibition, the Great Depression, and the rise of world fascism. Each brother, in his own way, discovers firsthand the unremitting hardships endured by blue collar workers and the hopelessness which clouds the future of an entire class. Conroy’s characters and their dialogue are as real and colorful as if we were walking those picket lines ourselves. There is little to distinguish A World to Win from the best of Steinbeck. Steinbeck’s prose may have a sharper, more naturalistic edge to it, but Conroy has an earthy Zolaesque frankness in which no subject is taboo, and the sordid details of these humble lives sit side by side with the mundane.

One of the most brilliant devices of this novel is role reversal, and Conroy skillfully utilizes that device not once, but twice, between the two Hurley brothers. The dynamic sibling relationship between these two strong characters is an unforgettable metaphor for the sort of crisscrossing journeys that workers and intellectuals made during some terrible and tormented periods of our history. These journeys, this history, deserve to be made more familiar to the generations of today, and A World to Win deserves to be read and appreciated as a key exponent of this critical process of familiarization.